This post begins and ends with food. I finally got a few days off from the new school here in Jining to rest and do some food shopping. I miss the rituals and tastes of my own cooking. Yesterday morning I took public bus #2 (1 yuan - 16 cents) to Jining’s largest and most modern supermarket, about a mile away from my 50s style apartment complex. The supermarket sells bulk ingredients by weight, sort of like what we find at large co-op markets. Among the numerous bulk items are fresh mixes of popular Chinese spices. I purchased 500 g (1 lb) of fresh ground chicken, a few mysterious spice mixes, and a whole bunch of other stuff. I fried the ground chicken in olive oil along with freshly chopped garlic and one of the wet mixes. The mix looks like it has peanuts and small chilies in it. I tasted it as I went along. It’s very good stuff. I froze small batches of the final product to enjoy later with rice and noodles. My friends know I like to cook and freeze for tasty meals at a moment’s notice. As an aside, I usually pair the earthy flavors of meat or legume with fresh citrus (lemon, lime, orange, and grapefruit) or light acidity (vinegars – rice, light grape, light apple). That’s just my personal taste. I wish I had better experience and imagination for pairing compatible wines with my dishes, but that’s what knowledgeable friends who know their wine (like Christine) are for. Chinese wine experts are as rare as American baozi experts. Back to the supermarket. I also bought fresh veggies - tomatoes, spinach, green peppers, carrots, green beans, and an unknown veggie that looks like its father was a vigorous stalk of celery and its mother an eager lettuce. It may be one of the Chinese cabbages. It smells a bit like turnip. It should go well with garlic in a sauce or soup. Also: two boxes of crackers – coconut and rice, one bag of freshly-made wheat chips, and two 300 ml bottles of Tsingtao Stout beer (very good stuff, not available in America). Also: 500 g of local ripe concord grapes, six Chinese oranges, a small yellow melon, two lemons, four mangos, three apples and yogurt for fruit smoothies. Yummy. Also: two freshly made spinach/onion/tofu-stuffed pastries the size of hamburgers. They went into the refrigerator. Three yuan for two of them, about 25 cents apiece. It was a relaxing and inexpensive food shopping experience. I completely filled my large tote bag. Total supermarket expenditure: $18. Yes, that’s correct, $18. Any artist would appreciate the bus ride and colorful supermarket. China is a different world. I made some new supermarket friends. A smile goes a long way. BTW, the HUGE, air-conditioned supermarket and adjacent shopping mall are all entirely underground. Past, present and future seem to merge without boundaries in contemporary China. Life in the People’s Republic flows collectively from then & there to here & now. The Chinese seem to accept any state of historical or sociopolitical being that fosters their genetically collective proclivities, from Communism to Capitalism. I think the average American has no inkling of the power of collective Jungian consciousness except maybe a Mormon or two. I appreciate Jining’s awesome underground supermarket the same way I appreciate the broad streets and exquisite Tabernacle of Salt Lake City. Collective creation eventuates small kivas of tribal community as well as great walls and pyramids of world culture, but these creations are really just the socially evolved institutions and architecture of our planet. They are impressive, but also no more inherently spiritual than a resort or casino. For me, the true beauty of spirit flies like a neutrino cleanly through the material world until it finds a home in the individual heart. Real spirit is pursued by mind until it’s captured and claimed as a personal residence for divine love in the embryonic soul - God and mortal setting up joint housekeeping. Home and family are the essential collection of spirit in all its diversity. This morning in my kitchen I am eating one of the tofu pastries for breakfast along with a fresh apple-mango smoothie. Ray Charles plays on the stereo. Dark thunder booms. A monsoon squall starts pounding on tiled rooftops. Below, three young girls with identical black ponytails, clean white shirts, blue shorts and yellow school backpacks huddle beneath a big red umbrella, talking. They suddenly turn and run together, laughing, up the alley to the city bus stop, a collective bouquet of charm and color on a grey Chinese morning. Life is good. ------- I have been putting large amounts of time into the school and making my temporary apartment comfortable. The school’s curriculum in phonics is deficient. Students are not mastering how to sound out English words for simple reading. The school’s training method is for students to quickly stand up and shout out (badly mispronounce) entire words – “DOG-uh, CAT-uh, HOUSE-uh.” The Chinese teachers do not realize their English is largely unintelligible. They train students the same way they were trained by Chinese teachers, who were trained by previous Chinese teachers – Cheenglish. I am redesigning flash cards and other materials for phonics. Also looking for simple phonics-friendly graphic stories/books so students can read begin reading aloud for practice and grasp the meaning of the words through the visual context. Think “Cat in the hat.” I want to make time for my own art (photography, video) but the outdoor summer heat and humidity here are debilitating. Right now it is 95 degrees and 80% humidity. My T-shirts and shorts are always wet from my own sweat. I walk into the shower and change clothes whenever possible. To be active and creative in this near-tropical climate requires an almost masochistic frame of mind. My body begs me to stop any activity. It just wants to sit or sleep. Systemically, my cellular respiration feels compromised from the humidity. Sweat does not evaporate readily. It collects. Kidneys require more liquid to do their job. No matter how much water I take in, my urine is still too yellow, never colorless. Drink, drink, drink. Piss, piss, piss. My body tries to respond to the humidity. Environmentally, any iron tools and implements that are not stainless steel begin rusting immediately. Mold and mildew pervade any unventilated space. Five portable fans purchased from a street vendor keep the apartment air constantly in motion. A chorus of cicadas in the trees outside my 3rd floor window sings, “OK, Pacific Northwest white boy, you are in our jungle now.” I respond, “OK, buzzing minions. At least I got to eat a few of you at a banquet.”
Posted on: Thu, 01 Aug 2013 23:38:27 +0000
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