Po Chai Pills and Other Items of Interest

by Jamie Rhein on

When I was reading National Geographic Traveler, I came across an essay by Daisann McLane, an American living in China who writes the blog, Learning Cantonese and is the “Real Travel” columnist for the magazine. Her essay was about getting sick and taking some mystery pills, meaning she didn’t know what they were exactly, but the doctor- told her-to-take-them pills. They were called Po Chai and they worked. Daisann’s experience reminded me of my own.

Getting medicine from in Asia facinated me when I lived there. In Singapore, the doctor I went to had an office in an apartment complex. This is typical in Singapore. Mega apartment complexes often have grocery stores, beauty parlors and a doctors office for anyone to use. You don’t need an appointment, you just show up. The doctor I went to was excellent. After she found out what was wrong with me,( nothing much really), she sometimes gave me a prescription.

Before I went on a trip, I’d also head to the doctor to get a supply of pills for stomach ailments. She’d count some out and put them into a tiny zip lock bag. By the end of the trip I never could remember which pills were for what problem. Once in awhile, I’d take my pill stash to her so she could again tell me what was what.

In Taiwan, the doctor, also a walk-in type, gave pills in a strand of packets, each packet a separate dose. If there was a 10-day dose, there would be 10 little pouches attached together. When you got to the last pouch you were on the last dose. If two or more pills were to be taken together, and there always seemed to be two or more, those were in the same pouch. There was never an indication of which pill went to which purpose. The advantage of this method is there weren’t a lot of bottles to keep track of. The disadvantage is those packets could take up a lot of room.

Daisann’s subject matter goes beyond medicine, each month she adds new essays with photographs, and provides some language lessons besides. Her recent essay, “Hong Kong is Always With You” is linked to another essay she wrote that was recently published in Slate.

A Canadian in Beijing: Simatai, The Great Wall: Take 3

by Ember Swift on

My sister and her fiance Steve arrived in Beijing on a Thursday afternoon and they hit the ground running. Before the sun had fully set, they had checked into their hotel, eaten a traditional hot pot meal and were in attendance at my last and final performance in Beijing. That night was a late but great one, and it was wonderful to have them there.

Six o’clock the next morning rolled around far too quickly.

We were scheduled to depart for Simatai Friday morning, the most beautiful tourist section of the Great Wall. A car was waiting for us just outside the hotel lobby, thanks to my wonderful friend Stuart who works for a travel company (Intrepid Travel) and who has excellent connections with things like this. He set it up for us and I was thrilled to not have to navigate public transportation with my family after such a late night. I was already bleary-eyed and poised to nap on the two and a half hour trip out of town.

When sleepy, must sleep. That’s my body’s motto.

The driver was very nice and we smoothly exited the city in nearly absentee traffic and quickly found ourselves in the morning mist of the outlying Beijing area. I slipped back to sleep in the front seat while my sister and Steve chatted about the scenery and the different energy of China compared to Canada. I tried to stay awake to act as the translator and tour guide, but it was for naught.

I woke up when we turned the final corner towards Simatai. Off of the highway, this last twenty minutes took us through several small and quaint countryside villages where we could see small-scale farming and country life up close, sometimes just a few feet from the windows of the car.

We all exclaimed at the brilliant greens and natural beauty that is in such contrast with the grey cement of Beijing. I reminded them that there is a lot of green hidden between buildings in the city, but it takes awhile to find it and celebrate it. I hoped I would get a chance to take them to some beautiful places in the city as well. We only had a few days together, and the density of the “intended” schedule was already apparent.

This tourist site is the section of The Great Wall that is farthest away from Beijing. Its beauty took my breath away. The misty mountains, the water below as you climb the several hundred feet up to the wall, the parts of the wall not fully renovated and so still breathing some of the crumbling history into the soles of our shoes – all of it was incredible! Even though this wasn’t the wild wall, it was part of the story. I am continually inspired by this snaking stone wonder that covers this part of China. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of laying my eyes upon it as it weaves its way along the skyline.

All told, seeing this part of the wall completed the cycle between the first section of the wall that I saw (Mutianyu, which was extremely renovated and almost pristine in its square edges) against the extreme rustic beauty of the wild wall that I saw when I went hiking in early June. Here was the middle ground between the two and it felt like the missing link in the chain of historical events.

We climbed the few kilometres up taking many rests in the heavy humidity. At one point, we came upon a group of women lounging along the wall’s edge. They all had sacs and were dressed in the same deep navy blue pants and shirts. I thought they may be workers, but it turned out that they were all vendors and were all selling the same items.

Three of these women greeted us and began to walk with us. When they realized I spoke Mandarin, they got even more excited and the conversation took off. Eventually, I realized that they were planning to accompany us (as though official guides) and I stopped walking. So too did my sister and Steve and I rounded off the conversation. I then gently requested that we be left alone to walk separately. I thanked them for their kindness but explained that we wanted to have some space just the three of us. They responded in kind and then trailed us by about fifty feet as we climbed the wall, always keeping us in view.

Finally, closer to the top, they inched nearer again and began to offer some interesting historical information about what we were seeing. I’m a sucker for history and so I didn’t discourage it and I listened and translated for my sister and Steve who were also interested in what they were saying. Eventually, they pulled out their tour books and asked us to once again consider buying their wares.

My sister wanted a book. They started the price at 180 kuai. I laughed outright at such an inflated price and told my sister to not pay more than 20 or 25 kuai. She eventually paid 50, which we learned was the starting price for the same books down at the base of the mountain where the rest of the vendors were. Oh well, I suppose my instincts were correct in terms of price, but my sister felt their ascent, historical information and overall persistence was worth the extra cash. She has a heart, after all.

We didn’t go right to the very highest point, but instead took the trail towards the cable cars. They wanted to take the easy route down and I relented and agreed. I wasn’t tired but it was threatening rain and I figured being in a covered cable car in the rain was better than getting wet while making our descent. In the end, the cable car ride was about ten or fifteen minutes of peace. I rode alone and they rode together and I took the time to just watch the scenery slowly roll out beneath me – such a carefully and meticulously landscaped valley – and the wall fade into the mist of the mountains behind me. I shut off my brain and let the colours soothe.

It was all very storybook-like. It was lovely.

Our driver was waiting for us at the bottom. We piled in and ate the picnic lunch I had brought while we made our way back to the city. Due to the midday traffic, the trip back was much longer than the trip there, but it was still interesting. The driver and I had a great chat about historical sites in and around Beijing and I fared relatively well in Chinese throughout it all. He was complimentary and taught me some interesting new words.

When we got back to the hotel, I was ready for a nap but happy to have seen the Great Wall of China one last time before I had to go home.

I fell asleep in my hotel room conscious of my great fortune and privilege in being in Beijing for so long. I have seen the Great Wall three times now! Some people – most people – never get to see it even once.

Life is great.

A Canadian in Beijing: Exposed Bellies For The Fellies

by Ember Swift on

I’m writing this from Canada. I suppose I’m no longer technically a “Canadian in Beijing.” Still, there are a few things I haven’t yet had a chance to tell you about from my trip and so the next couple of posts will be slightly anachronistic. And then, I’ll give you the full low-down on my reverse culture shock that I’m currently experiencing!

Now, something I haven’t yet talked about falls on the heels of my post entitled “Umbrellas Not For Fellas” (hence the wacky title above!) This was a post about how women use umbrellas to block the sun in Beijing, but that men rarely do so. I often wondered what men do to keep cool and then I quickly discovered their technique:

Exposed bellies.

Yes, it seems that men in Beijing feel quite comfortable rolling up their shirts and exposing their bellies to cool off. I have not yet seen a woman doing the same thing. To top that off, there is no requirement for abs of steel to take part in this tradition. Any sized belly can be exposed as long as it’s hot enough outside to warrant the half-roll-up “look.” It’s perfectly acceptable and certainly replaces the North American way, which is for men to remove their shirts altogether.

I have been noticing this phenomenon since late May when the weather got warm enough to warrant the need to cool off. The problem has been in the photography. I haven’t felt comfortable just plainly photographing one of these men in order so that I had blog material. In fact, I felt more like a paparazzi than ever in this pursuit and I tried to stealthily take pictures, which you can tell was not always successful.

This gentleman caught me right in the act of photographing him. In fact, he wanted me to buy a tourism book in exchange for the photo I snapped. I almost did just that. I feel pretty guilty about my interest in his innocent stomach exposed to the misty mountain air, but not guilty enough to fork over the inflated price he wanted for his souvenirs. I left as stealthily as I had approached, apologizing quietly and self-conscious about having been “caught.”

My one consolation is that he probably doesn’t actually realize that my interest was in his belly. He probably thought I was just an obnoxious white tourist wanting a picture of a Chinese man selling souvenirs. Hardly a real consolation, but enough to quell the embarrassment at least!

I suppose I bring with me the North American notion that exposing one’s midriff is a rather vulnerable and private act. Well, alright, maybe that’s just my own notion considering the number of exposed bellies I have seen in videos on MTV or Much Music! But of course those are women I see on television and the men in China are not doing it for style or for sex appeal. It’s a practical act.

It’s ventilation.

Even so, there’s just something more intimate about these exposed bellies of Chinese men, to be honest, and despite how “everyday” it appeared to be to these men, young and old, it was something I dared not be too obvious about wanting to further expose.

But, now that I’m back in Canada, I feel okay about it somehow. Have I escaped my shyness via distance? Perhaps I’m far enough away to no longer feel self-conscious about looking and being interested in this phenomenon.

Well, regardless of the psychological self-assessment that I’m currently applying to this very blog, here you go… the bellies of Beijing-area Chinese men cooling off throughout the month of June. Sent to you directly from Canada and in answer to your burning, post-umbrella-post question as to “what do men do to keep cool in Beijing?”

They show their belly buttons.

Without removing their shirts.

Can you imagine that sunburn?

Would they call that a Beijing belly tan?

Hhhmmm….

France’s Visitors Equal Its Population

by Jamie Rhein on

Here is an interesting fact I came across. The number of people who visit France each year is equal to its population. Each equals 60 million. [source: National Geographic Traveler] Of the visitors, here are some statistics about Paris, the city that is partly responsible for the visitor bounty.:

  • number of people who visit the Eiffel Tower: more than 6 million
  • number of people who visit the Louvre: more than 5 million

In an aim to get more people to come to Paris, July 9 is the first ever Tourism Day in Paris. Visitors will receive a commemorative bracelet and a map to find participating venues.There are also other events of note that coincide. One of them is the Paris Cinema International Film Festival, July 3-14, where over 300 films will be shown. For information about both, check out Parisinfo.com where you can find all you need to know about travel in Paris and travel deals.

A Canadian in Beijing: Peking Duck

by Ember Swift on

Well, my trip is rounding to a close and there have been several things on my “to do before I leave” list. Eating Peking Duck is not one of them, however, but here I am poised to write about it. No, I didn’t eat any. Yes, I watched it get eaten. I heard the exclamations. I partook in the pancake portion. It was fun.

Even vegetarians can eat at a Peking Duck restaurant, I found.

My sister and (nearly) brother-in-law came to Beijing to visit a few days ago. We have been going strong with activities since they arrived, many of which were on their “Beijing-in-four-days” wish list. Since I also had my list, there were several things to check off and we’re still chipping away at the items. One of their “must-dos” was to eat Peking Duck.

I am told this is a requirement of all non-vegetarian Beijing visitors. (And all the ducks in China thank the vegetarians for their graceful exemption!)

The experience was really interesting, however, and being a witness to an age-old tradition was worth the photos and the social joy. As a bit of a farewell dinner with some of my dearest friends here, it was also filled with a lot of laughter and stories. I was so happy to be able to introduce people from my China life to people from my Canada life. I couldn’t stop smiling.

We went to a very famous Peking Duck courtyard-style restaurant called Hua Jia Yi Yuan . It was gorgeous.

The front entrance was decadant and it opened into a long corridor into a lobby with a smiling hostess that greeted us in both English and Chinese. The main courtyard was open and full of lattice work and decorative beams painted in the traditional Chinese style. Everything was made to look classic and old but it was also filled with modern furniture and beautiful woodwork that was obviously new in its polished glory.

They led us upstairs to plush red velvet, cushioned chairs and a full dining area. In fact, the place was sprawling and appeared to be nearly full on this weekend night. Everyone looked happy, I noticed, and so I knew the food would be good. Faces were multinational, which is another good sign. Places filled with only non-Chinese faces have proven (in my opinion) to be overpriced and often lacking in taste. Places with both non-Chinese and Chinese customers tend to be excellent on all counts — not too pricey and tasty.

Both proved true. The whole meal cost us each about 65 kuai or approximately $10 Canadian.

We all sat and I offered introductions all around. The connections at the table were formed instantly and the stories, food and beer flowed effortlessly.

What a pleasure it is to watch people you know and love form clear lines with people you also know and love. I have found that my friends here are not always friends with each other. In other words, I have met several different people from different backgrounds and through different scenes while here in Beijing over these three months. Putting them together at a table is not something I’ve had much chance to do. Well, at least not when I could witness the results (my gigs have been collective experiences, but I’m always on stage and not able to see or hear how things go!) and so, I sat back and watched these wonderful people engage each other and just smiled.

I felt incredibly fortunate to know them all.

Soon the food arrived. It was definitely an experience in eating! Peking Duck comes with these thin round pancakes and several cold vegetables in small piles like cucumbers, radish, lettuce (etc) as well as two different sauces, a sweet and savory option. My sister’s finance had everyone laughing when he described his “duck roll-up” as a “Chinese Fajita。” My friend Traci laughed the hardest when she followed that up by explaining that every time her boyfriend eats her Mexican cooking, he describes fajitas as “Mexican Peking Duck.” (Her boyfriend is Chinese and she is American.) We all burst into more laughter. Perspective really does depend on where you’re standing, eh?! Both descriptions are right.

Basically, you put slices of the duck meat into the pancake along with the other ingredients of your choice and then you roll it up and eat it in your hands like a little sandwich pocket. I found it fascinating. I ate a vegetarian version of that as well as several other dishes that were ordered off the menu. I was not lacking in food!

By the time we were done eating and had talked ourselves into a dull roar, I looked around and noticed that we were the only table still occupied. It was about 10:30 at night and the place was deserted. I marvelled at how insular our table had felt for me to have not even noticed a single other table depart from a once packed dining room. It made me smile all the larger. The people I was with were absorbing, to say the least. It was a great night.

When we left, we posed for photos in the lobby and chatted for awhile about the “wall of fame” and the separate room off the corridor for the live fish to swim their final rounds of fish tanks before heading for the kitchen. This is very common in China where the restaurants want to give the customers a view of the freshness of their product. I silently reminded the fish that not everyone comes there to eat them and then turned to go.

We walked out to the sidewalk still chatting and laughing, seemingly not without energy for more stories and anecdotes about China and culture and the travelling bug. This halting goodbye outside became another ten minutes before we finally filed into different taxis and waved farewell.

Duck was apparently delicious. For me, the whole night was delicious. The company, the food, the atmosphere, the vibe. I felt filled with good fortune to have met such wonderful people here and to have such a wonderful family.

Life is full.

And so were our stomachs.

[Pictured from left to right: Stuart, Traci, Me, Rui, Temple (my sis) and Steve (her finance)]