It has been more than a week since I returned to Toronto. When I am asked “How was China?”, I am having difficulty crafting a response that is neither gushing, as in "amazing, exciting, challenging, life changing" or triggers a long hyper paced outpouring of stories and anecdotes that have my poor listeners drinking from the proverbial verbal fire hose. Somewhere in there, is a middle ground but I have not found it yet. For China was all of those things and more for me. On my outbound flight, I read an interesting article, suitably in the airline magazine, that explored the transforming power of travel. I tore it out, not really understanding at the time, how much it would eventually resonate with me, but sensing that there was something in the content that might be important on my journey.
“Getting lost to yourself might be the best way to find out who you are” was the closing statement. Yes, emphatically yes, and now I understand how and why. If you have not had the experience of losing yourself in a city or country, where every simple action becomes a challenge, then it is difficult to convey the sense of consciousness that must accompany every single waking minute. It is tiring at first, and generally frustrating, but once you abandon yourself to the flow of this kind of travel, then it becomes the essence of the experience itself. Every sense is heightened, every adaptive ability is stretched, every strength and weakness exaggerated. You discover that you are braver than you ever thought, not just because you are doing something that others think is brave and they would not attempt themselves. (I got that incredulous reaction from western women around my age almost universally in China). Nonetheless, I also recognized when I was not up to everything that came my way, and where a more adventurous soul might have leaped in for the sake of the memory, the bragging rights, the “we will never pass this way again, so go for it”, I demurred. And I learned to forgive myself for that. For not feeling the need to prove myself brave. To myself or to anyone else.
Was that perhaps the greatest gift of my trip to China? It was certainly one of them. But the greatest prize of all was the discovery of how much I enjoyed writing. And that I have changed my self definition to writer. (Sounds so much more productive than “retired”). When asked what I did for a living in a charming cafe in Shanghai, I said, “I am a writer”. Out loud, to a perfect stranger, just to try it on for size. Now of course, her reaction, was “oh, what have you written?. I cast around for a suitable answer, coming up with only a lame, nothing you would know. Now, that is the downside of verbalizing one’s dreams: you create an expectation in the recipient of something concrete when all you have to offer are some thoughts in a battered notebook and a couple of possible titles. And of course, that opening question is closely followed by: “Are you writing a book? What’s it about?” Mmmh, again, questions to which my answers are vague and mumbled. But, it does force the issue. I recall an oft quoted story of a published writer making polite cocktail chat to a business man who announced somewhat pompously, that when he retired, he too was going to become a writer. To which the novelist replied, yes, and I’m going to become a brain surgeon. The point of course, is that writing says easy and does hard. But like travel, writing puts me in a place where I am truly, completely in the moment. In the zone, as the athletes say. There is no better place for me to be.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Yesterday, I climbed The Great Wall
And tomorrow, I fly home. I would like to write more about China, my impressions and my adventures. But some thoughts are best to wait until I am no longer here. And that, of course, says something about China in itself.
I leave you for the moment with pictures from my trip down the Li River, from the city of Guilin to the town of Yangshou. Whenever I quizzed a fellow traveller about their journeys in China, this destination always came up as one not to be missed. The voyage down the river was obscured by rain and fog, but that did not dampen the enthusiasm of the Chinese men at my table (actually, as a single, I was put at their table and they were the hosts of our long on board lunch) They had ordered the regional specialties for the group: river sails in garlic, deep fried whole fresh water shrimp, beer fish, and steamed flat fish. They tried hard to get me to drink beer with them, but I had been previously cautioned that once you accept one alcoholic drink in China, you will be in deep for the rest of the evening or journey in this case. No stopping or you will be considered a very rude foreigner and not appreciative of your hosts' generosity. But if you firmly but nicely insist that you do not indulge at the outset, there will be no bad feelings. So I turned my glass over, drank my bottle of water, and joked with them (as best you can with no common language) and let them push the snails and whole shrimp on me. They were a little dismayed that the crunchy shrimp with heads on did not deter me from eating them with gusto: making foreign women squirm is good sport apparently!
Our destination of Yangshou is a pretty charming town on this beautiful river, with lots of back backers in dreds and sandals on the circuit from Vietnam and Thailand. It's that sort of place. It also offers the best rock climbing in China, so there are a lot of robust, adventure type travellers too. Over breakfast, I met a retired couple from Arizona who had been here for 6 months teaching English: they advised me that if I wished to stay a month or a year, just walk down the street, take a left and I would be assured of a job for as long as I wanted. I admit, I thought about it. My breakfast was enjoyed at a little cafe owned by a former hot dog vendor from Ottawa and his bride whom he met here on his first day in Yangshou. They live above the cafe with their new baby, where she makes jewellery and they ponder whether to move to Canada. Like most of China, Yangshou is developing, building, growing: it is clinging hard to its image as a laid back haven for city weary tourists and travellers. But I could see the "luxury" condo developments underway at every turn. I think that I came to Yangshou at the best, and last time.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Sex in this City
My hosts and I were unable to give the cab driver sufficiently detailed directions to our intended dining spot, (not an uncommon event when street names change each block and street numbers are not sequential) After 30 frustrating minutes of getting nowhere fast, we obeyed the dictates of our rumbling stomachs and got out and walked south in search of a late evening dinner. Normally, a dinner for 3 at a quite elegant Sichuan or Yunnan restaurant would never top $70, even with drinks. But it was getting on 9:30, and with no such haven in sight, we threw frugality to the wind and walked into Jasmine, a high concept and high end Asian fusion restaurant/club.
Here we had entered the rarefied land of plush expense accounts and equally padded bodies camouflaged by well cut Italian suits. It was the sort of place where the only reasonably priced bottles of wine were the 350ml kind. (It took sending the waiter back twice to figure that out!)
As we settled into our large club chairs, I leaned back, enjoying the stylish ambiance, I happened to catch the conversation between the 2 businessmen seated close behind me. (The chairs were so large that it was easier to hear them than converse with my dining companions. Really.) One was Chinese, and the other an attractive American with lots of salt and pepper hair. As the conversation drifted from congratulating each other on the conclusion of a successful deal and an equally pleasant dinner, the Chinese gentleman asked the other if he had a girlfriend. Frankly, as a woman in about the same demographic cohort as the American, my ears perked up. The American said no, that he was in fact, looking for a new girl, that he was not looking for anything long term, and that he had learned that from his previous experience. All of this is verbatim by the way. Then the conversation shifted to real estate in California, how much his wife loved growing grapes in their $11.1 million property, and how his gorgeous and brilliant 25 year old daughter would love the challenge of China but his son was too conventional and would not take the risk.
Now, I am not going to comment on the morality of the man's choice to have a long term girl friend here in China: he knows what California divorce laws are like and perhaps his wife was fully aware of his arrangements. No one really understands anyone else's marriage. It's not the first time that I had heard reference to a "Chinese wife". But I did wonder what had happened to this person , now known only as "Previous Experience".
Was she a still young woman of 30, who after 5 years of entertaining Mr. California, had decided it was time to move on, get her own life, husband and possibly child? Or was it a case of a lady who had spend years catering to him while he was in town for his monthly meetings, planning the special outings, making sure the cupboard had his preferred foods and drink, and the fridge was stocked with cold water and ice, the way Westerners like it. I hoped that he had siphoned off enough funds from his personal or corporate accounts to leave her well provided for, and that she still had her apartment that he had arranged for their trysts: it is unlikely that a Westerner would have been willing to live in a Chinese style flat. I hoped that she was not still not waiting patiently for the special ring tone, the nudge on Messenger, or the knock on the door. But I was unable to suppress the vision of a small elegant woman of a certain age, sitting straight backed , dressed in his favourite silk kimono, hoping it was not, but knowing, that like those beautiful Beijing roses in June, they were finished.
There would be no "unintended consequences" from this liaison: with the Chinese one child policy, abortion is easily available at public hospitals for about $65 per procedure. However, in response to some international pressure about the high rate of abortions, the government outlawed promotional advertising some years ago. Still, flyers and newspaper ads offering the procedure from less savory and less safe outlets are commonplace. Indeed, the easy access to abortion was intended for married women to comply with stringent laws. However, with the increasing rate of sexual activity of unmarried women, especially in urban areas, young single women have become major users of the service. While sexual activity is on the upswing, sexual education has lagged seriously behind. Slogans are everywhere: useful information is not. Getting pregnant while unmarried would be a major loss of face for her family and so her support system would disappear: few unmarried women would want to carry a baby to full term.
Small packs of condoms are available in bright pink, girly packaging and displayed optimistically at the beauty counter check out, along with the lip gloss and the breath mints. But a young male acquaintance of mine told me that his friends will not use them So that other "unintended consequence" of unprotected sexual activity, STD's are also on the rise.
Clubs in cities like Beijing offer frenetic "hook up" opportunities, for Westerners and Chinese natives. Although the nightly outcomes might be the same, intentions between the 2 groups differ. I was told that Chinese men seek out Western women for a night of unencumbered fun because the beautiful Chinese girls in the same clubs might charge them for the privilege. On the other side, young Chinese women often see Western men as their ticket out of China, and would do pretty much anything to make that happen. Western men are not oblivious to the opportunity that circumstance represents and have been known to see the city as a sexual "all you can eat buffet", if you pardon the metaphor. Getting the girl home to your apartment is as easy as flashing a passport: getting her to leave once ensconced is a bit more tricky. Parties that should have been over in the light of day have a strange way of continuing until the next afternoon or evening. But then, how do you get her to leave when she won't put her pants on?
Here we had entered the rarefied land of plush expense accounts and equally padded bodies camouflaged by well cut Italian suits. It was the sort of place where the only reasonably priced bottles of wine were the 350ml kind. (It took sending the waiter back twice to figure that out!)
As we settled into our large club chairs, I leaned back, enjoying the stylish ambiance, I happened to catch the conversation between the 2 businessmen seated close behind me. (The chairs were so large that it was easier to hear them than converse with my dining companions. Really.) One was Chinese, and the other an attractive American with lots of salt and pepper hair. As the conversation drifted from congratulating each other on the conclusion of a successful deal and an equally pleasant dinner, the Chinese gentleman asked the other if he had a girlfriend. Frankly, as a woman in about the same demographic cohort as the American, my ears perked up. The American said no, that he was in fact, looking for a new girl, that he was not looking for anything long term, and that he had learned that from his previous experience. All of this is verbatim by the way. Then the conversation shifted to real estate in California, how much his wife loved growing grapes in their $11.1 million property, and how his gorgeous and brilliant 25 year old daughter would love the challenge of China but his son was too conventional and would not take the risk.
Now, I am not going to comment on the morality of the man's choice to have a long term girl friend here in China: he knows what California divorce laws are like and perhaps his wife was fully aware of his arrangements. No one really understands anyone else's marriage. It's not the first time that I had heard reference to a "Chinese wife". But I did wonder what had happened to this person , now known only as "Previous Experience".
Was she a still young woman of 30, who after 5 years of entertaining Mr. California, had decided it was time to move on, get her own life, husband and possibly child? Or was it a case of a lady who had spend years catering to him while he was in town for his monthly meetings, planning the special outings, making sure the cupboard had his preferred foods and drink, and the fridge was stocked with cold water and ice, the way Westerners like it. I hoped that he had siphoned off enough funds from his personal or corporate accounts to leave her well provided for, and that she still had her apartment that he had arranged for their trysts: it is unlikely that a Westerner would have been willing to live in a Chinese style flat. I hoped that she was not still not waiting patiently for the special ring tone, the nudge on Messenger, or the knock on the door. But I was unable to suppress the vision of a small elegant woman of a certain age, sitting straight backed , dressed in his favourite silk kimono, hoping it was not, but knowing, that like those beautiful Beijing roses in June, they were finished.
There would be no "unintended consequences" from this liaison: with the Chinese one child policy, abortion is easily available at public hospitals for about $65 per procedure. However, in response to some international pressure about the high rate of abortions, the government outlawed promotional advertising some years ago. Still, flyers and newspaper ads offering the procedure from less savory and less safe outlets are commonplace. Indeed, the easy access to abortion was intended for married women to comply with stringent laws. However, with the increasing rate of sexual activity of unmarried women, especially in urban areas, young single women have become major users of the service. While sexual activity is on the upswing, sexual education has lagged seriously behind. Slogans are everywhere: useful information is not. Getting pregnant while unmarried would be a major loss of face for her family and so her support system would disappear: few unmarried women would want to carry a baby to full term.
Small packs of condoms are available in bright pink, girly packaging and displayed optimistically at the beauty counter check out, along with the lip gloss and the breath mints. But a young male acquaintance of mine told me that his friends will not use them So that other "unintended consequence" of unprotected sexual activity, STD's are also on the rise.
Clubs in cities like Beijing offer frenetic "hook up" opportunities, for Westerners and Chinese natives. Although the nightly outcomes might be the same, intentions between the 2 groups differ. I was told that Chinese men seek out Western women for a night of unencumbered fun because the beautiful Chinese girls in the same clubs might charge them for the privilege. On the other side, young Chinese women often see Western men as their ticket out of China, and would do pretty much anything to make that happen. Western men are not oblivious to the opportunity that circumstance represents and have been known to see the city as a sexual "all you can eat buffet", if you pardon the metaphor. Getting the girl home to your apartment is as easy as flashing a passport: getting her to leave once ensconced is a bit more tricky. Parties that should have been over in the light of day have a strange way of continuing until the next afternoon or evening. But then, how do you get her to leave when she won't put her pants on?
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Tension in Macau
After an intense 3 days of shopping and touring in Hong Kong, I boarded the busy ferry to the island of Macau. Macau was a Portuguese trading outpost from the 1500's, and the stepping off point for the Jesuit missionaries working in Asia. Hence the unique blend of Asian and Portuguese food, culture and architecture. It is now a "Special Administrative Region" like Hong Kong, but there is a special tension here that Hong Kong does not suffer from. Hong Kong, whatever the pace of development and growth, will always be confident in its core identity as a global center of commerce that pays unapologetic homage every day to the power of trade and the glory of affluence. I have never seen so much money so grandly and proudly displayed: New York seems modest in comparison.
As the only place in China with legalized gambling, Macau has been under aggressive pressure from real estate and gambling consortiums. There is now some dissonance being expressed with the pace and intensity of development: at the time of writing, the local government apparently wanted to put a moratorium on new gambling licenses and land reclamation. ("Land reclamation" is simply a positive spin on "sea destruction ") As you can imagine, pro and con editorials and accusations are flying fast and furious in the local morning papers. As a first time visitor, I can only say, please hold the line.
Don't get me wrong: despite not being interested in slots or table games, I have visited Las Vegas with family and friends and on business on a regular basis for over 15 years. The attraction for me now is a 5 star luxury long weekend with the girls and some of the best dining in North America. Seriously. take a look as this sample of fine restaurants from Frommers; " multi-Michelin-starred chef Joël Robuchon opened two restaurants in the MGM Grand; deservedly famed chef Julian Serrano reigns at Bellagio's Picasso; Thomas Keller, the brains behind Napa Valley's French Laundry -- considered by many to be the best restaurant in the United States -- has a branch of his Bouchon bistro; legendary chef Alain Ducasse is behind Mix at THEhotel; ...2006 James Beard Awards featured several Vegas nominees, while Robuchon's L'Atelier won Best New Restaurant in 2007." Of course, you have to be prepared to spend $30 on a starter and upwards of $75 on a main, but hey, that's what's winnings are for. Or at least, that's what I tell my mom when she scores at the slot machine! Otherwise, it's off to the "all you can eat before 5pm" $12 buffet.
So while Vegas is styled as a place for adult fun, however you define it, the gambling face of Macau is not fun at all. Not because the branches of the Wynn or the Venetian are any grand or luxurious than they are in Vegas; it's because gambling in China is not meant to be fun. At least not that I could see. As I walked through the ill kept, dingy underground passage between the original Casino Lisboa, over to new Wynn , I saw only sad, dejected faces. In the casino, there was no laughter, no shouts of excitement, not even a lot of that annoying ding ding ding from the slots. There are not as many slot machines in Macau which certainly keeps the din to a minimum: I imagine that table games are considered to be more "lucky" or perhaps requiring more skill than simply pushing a button. And no alcohol is consumed while gambling: this is a serious business.
I watched one baccarat table where a young woman appeared to have a streak of good luck, judging from the crowd pressed around her, urging her on. As she was dealt her cards, the women standing behind her started to blow air from their mouths, and waving one hand towards the dealer, as if to wish away bad luck from the player. (Or perhaps bad luck on the house) The Chinese are very superstitious, and never more so than when gambling. And betting is done aggressively: one possible reason for all those disappointed faces I saw earlier was that they bet the whole bankroll on one play and lost. That's normal. It's not about extending out the play for its own sake, seeing how long your money can last, as my friends and I do in Vegas. It's about the chance, the win, the roll, putting everything on the line. And when it's done, it's over.
So why do I think that enough is likely enough. Well, when I travelled over the bridge to the smaller island of Taipa, I passed the massive Venetian complex and 3 equally massive holes in the ground which will shortly become the Hard Rock Cafe, the Sheraton, and a Hyatt. Getting past these works in progress required traversing 4 very large roundabouts. Not a sidewalk to be seen. So what I envision will happen will be a transformation very much like Vegas: huge retail, hotel and casino complexes, connected by above and underground people movers, dominating the skyline and extending ever further out into the harbour until Macau and Taipa are one land mass. The format and intention are very much in line with Vegas: keep in the punters in the complex, away from the outdoors, and always in front of a table or a store. But how much more of it does one or two small islands really need?
And what is at risk? Well you can already feel the impact of the new gambling complexes: I was staying in a charming Portuguese style pousada and I could not get a cab at a casino hotel to take me there at night. Too much easier money to be made shuffling the players from casino to casino. The architecture of Macau is lovely and best appreciated while strolling or sitting at a local coffee shop (did I mention that the egg tarts here are wonderful, as is most of the Portuguese food?)But if the tourists are simply bused from ferry to casino, and then shuffled from one gaming table to another, never to see the light of day, who will support these restaurants, museums and cultural attractions? Macua may be at risk of being a city that simply exists to support the casinos, instead of the other way around.
My advice is to see it soon before it disappears. Have dinner at the well known local culinary school, where you can have an excellent 4 course meal accompanied by very good Portuguese wine for about $50. Stay in a pousada, and admire the lotus flowers growing in ponds with stone fountains and orchids displayed against traditional blue and white tiles. Wander the narrow cobblestone streets and enjoy this special Asian urban experience while you can.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Living the High Life in Hong Kong
A travel guide book that I consulted when planning this excursion said that everyone should spend at least one night of their lives at the legendary Peninsula Hotel in Kong Kong.
Well, I thought that if one night is good, 3 must be better! Indeed, it was the best hotel stay of my life, and I have rested my head in some pretty plush spots. Like the Plaza and the Helmsley Palace in New York in the 90's when the Queen of Mean still reigned. To describe a high end hotel, resort or even a condo development, as "luxurious", is almost meaningless. What was once considered luxurious is now so common place as to be the norm. At a certain price per night, we expect marble bathrooms, fine linens and plasma TVs. Inspired by decorating magazines, lifestyle television shows, and broader travel, many of us have brought that high end "hotel style" into our homes, most certainly into the bedrooms.
So what makes a high end hotel special? And what defines luxury in a town where "over the top" is a way of life? For me, luxury at the Peninsula is best defined by their attention to detail. Details like 2 robes and 2 sets of slippers: one light set for lounging, one terry set for just out of the bath. 2 linen garment bags: one for dry cleaning, one for plain laundry. Nothing plain about the laundry delivery however: my humble work out top was returned in a separate cloth lined basket, wrapped in tissue and closed with a gold foil seal. Needless to say, the room was huge, the white marble clad bathroom came complete with TV and mood lighting, and the LED display on the room door gave you the exterior temperature, (as did the phone by the bed) and allowed you to set your room status to privacy please, or send the valet, so you need not open the door. No flimsy paper door knob hangers here! Indeed, the papers (international and local) were delivered via a separate box just inside your door. No fear of being locked out in your robe (or worse)! The control panel by the king bed means that you never need leave the comfort of your down duvet to open and close the wall of drapes, adjust the lighting, turn on or off the TV and radio. I could go on and on, but you get the gist. Yes, I could learn to live like a "tie, tie".
What is a tie tie you ask? (I am likely spelling it wrong, but the pronunciation is as you see) It is the moniker for the sort of wealthy woman who is so accustomed to being catered to, every minute of every day, that she brings her ama to her club to hold the towel for her as she steps daintily from the shower. She could be from anywhere, even the mainland: apparently no one nationality has a monopoly on the love of excess. Ostentatious jewellery and lots of it, is one of the hallmarks of these ladies. It also serves a practical purpose beyond simply broadcasting your husband's wealth and proclaiming your status: it can be used to fund your defense when you hit said husband over the head with a heavy Chinese antique statue, have your 2 amas and driver help you roll him up in the Persian carpet and put him in the locker for 5 days until he starts to smell. A true story, and one that has inspired the expatriate wives in Hong Kong to threaten their husbands with being rolled in a carpet should they too become a little annoying! Meant with affection of course. I assume.
What is an ama? It is a housekeeper, cook, cleaner, nanny that lives with you, usually in a cupboard the size of the average North American bathroom. Maybe smaller. In this cupboard is the toilet, shower, and room for a bedroll. Good thing these Filipino and Sri Lankan women are tiny. ( I jest) My expat friend in Hong Kong, aka "Fabulous", and the source of these stories, is the sort of good person who rejected most of the condos offered her family because the living quarters for the ama's were no better than prison cells. It is expected that you will have at least one ama, and likely a driver. Sunday is the day off for the ama's in Hong Kong, and they crowd the central parks of Hong Kong, having lunch after listening to the broad casted Mass, sitting on blankets or newspapers spread out under the trees. If you have ever been to a cocktail party with a hundred women you have some idea of the din caused by a thousand women in animated discussion.
Without their cook, the ex pat families head to their favourite local restaurant or private club. I had dinner in 2 very high end restaurants in Hong Kong and was struck by the lack of locals (unlike Shanghai). After my dinner at a private club with my friend it all become clear: why would you spend money dining out when you can come to your posh club and have a wonderful meal. away from the busy noisy city, overlooking the sparkling lights of the harbour. She certainly appreciates how extraordinary the expat experience is, and works hard to ensure that her kids know it too: life back in Canada is going to be an adjustment, and not just because of the weather!
If you don't want to sit on the terrace, the helpful folks at the club will pack up a hamper for you to take on a private boat to a nearby island. Hong Kong is in the South China Sea, and although most visitors only see the high rises and conjestion, it is surrounded by lush tropical islands with beaches and few people. In fact, that is where I am off to now. On a public ferry mind you.
Well, I thought that if one night is good, 3 must be better! Indeed, it was the best hotel stay of my life, and I have rested my head in some pretty plush spots. Like the Plaza and the Helmsley Palace in New York in the 90's when the Queen of Mean still reigned. To describe a high end hotel, resort or even a condo development, as "luxurious", is almost meaningless. What was once considered luxurious is now so common place as to be the norm. At a certain price per night, we expect marble bathrooms, fine linens and plasma TVs. Inspired by decorating magazines, lifestyle television shows, and broader travel, many of us have brought that high end "hotel style" into our homes, most certainly into the bedrooms.
So what makes a high end hotel special? And what defines luxury in a town where "over the top" is a way of life? For me, luxury at the Peninsula is best defined by their attention to detail. Details like 2 robes and 2 sets of slippers: one light set for lounging, one terry set for just out of the bath. 2 linen garment bags: one for dry cleaning, one for plain laundry. Nothing plain about the laundry delivery however: my humble work out top was returned in a separate cloth lined basket, wrapped in tissue and closed with a gold foil seal. Needless to say, the room was huge, the white marble clad bathroom came complete with TV and mood lighting, and the LED display on the room door gave you the exterior temperature, (as did the phone by the bed) and allowed you to set your room status to privacy please, or send the valet, so you need not open the door. No flimsy paper door knob hangers here! Indeed, the papers (international and local) were delivered via a separate box just inside your door. No fear of being locked out in your robe (or worse)! The control panel by the king bed means that you never need leave the comfort of your down duvet to open and close the wall of drapes, adjust the lighting, turn on or off the TV and radio. I could go on and on, but you get the gist. Yes, I could learn to live like a "tie, tie".
What is a tie tie you ask? (I am likely spelling it wrong, but the pronunciation is as you see) It is the moniker for the sort of wealthy woman who is so accustomed to being catered to, every minute of every day, that she brings her ama to her club to hold the towel for her as she steps daintily from the shower. She could be from anywhere, even the mainland: apparently no one nationality has a monopoly on the love of excess. Ostentatious jewellery and lots of it, is one of the hallmarks of these ladies. It also serves a practical purpose beyond simply broadcasting your husband's wealth and proclaiming your status: it can be used to fund your defense when you hit said husband over the head with a heavy Chinese antique statue, have your 2 amas and driver help you roll him up in the Persian carpet and put him in the locker for 5 days until he starts to smell. A true story, and one that has inspired the expatriate wives in Hong Kong to threaten their husbands with being rolled in a carpet should they too become a little annoying! Meant with affection of course. I assume.
What is an ama? It is a housekeeper, cook, cleaner, nanny that lives with you, usually in a cupboard the size of the average North American bathroom. Maybe smaller. In this cupboard is the toilet, shower, and room for a bedroll. Good thing these Filipino and Sri Lankan women are tiny. ( I jest) My expat friend in Hong Kong, aka "Fabulous", and the source of these stories, is the sort of good person who rejected most of the condos offered her family because the living quarters for the ama's were no better than prison cells. It is expected that you will have at least one ama, and likely a driver. Sunday is the day off for the ama's in Hong Kong, and they crowd the central parks of Hong Kong, having lunch after listening to the broad casted Mass, sitting on blankets or newspapers spread out under the trees. If you have ever been to a cocktail party with a hundred women you have some idea of the din caused by a thousand women in animated discussion.
Without their cook, the ex pat families head to their favourite local restaurant or private club. I had dinner in 2 very high end restaurants in Hong Kong and was struck by the lack of locals (unlike Shanghai). After my dinner at a private club with my friend it all become clear: why would you spend money dining out when you can come to your posh club and have a wonderful meal. away from the busy noisy city, overlooking the sparkling lights of the harbour. She certainly appreciates how extraordinary the expat experience is, and works hard to ensure that her kids know it too: life back in Canada is going to be an adjustment, and not just because of the weather!
If you don't want to sit on the terrace, the helpful folks at the club will pack up a hamper for you to take on a private boat to a nearby island. Hong Kong is in the South China Sea, and although most visitors only see the high rises and conjestion, it is surrounded by lush tropical islands with beaches and few people. In fact, that is where I am off to now. On a public ferry mind you.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Luxe Dining in Shanghai
I had 2 very different dining experiences in the last 2 nights. If I had only gone to one restaurant, I would be convinced that Shanghai is the gastronomical epicentre of the East. If my experience had been limited to the other, I would have left thinking that this city proves yet again that money can buy many things, but good taste is not one of them.
First the disappointment: the M in M on the Bund must stand for mediocre. A cheap shot at an expensive restaurant but well deserved. I had my usual order: 3 appetizers with accompanying wine, all suggested by the maitre de. I find that an appetizer and a main do not offer enough of a stage for the chef to display his or her talents, and often, it is too much food as well. 3 small plates served in courses works well for me, in volume and in variety. So the view of the Bund at night, with the river boats and high rises of the Pudong all lit up in flashing colour is spectacular. And if madam is cold on the terrace, a wrap will be provided. All around me, groups of business colleagues celebrated with champagne and cigars, and large parties of family and friends toasted their special occasions. A festive place warmly lit and elegantly presented. Shame about the food.
I was prepared not to have my culinary socks blown off: it was presented as Shanghai’s first gourmet restaurant (since 2000), not her most innovative now, but a definite must do for visitors. I was expecting something along the lines of Scaramouche or Canoe in Toronto: lovely views of the sparkling city below, comfortable surroundings, and solidly executed cuisine with luxury touches in ingredients and presentation. A place to take out of town business colleagues or go for a special anniversary dinner with family. Well, the lobster and shrimp bisque was the color of brown lentils, tasted mostly of celery and smelled vaguely of fish. If a crustacean came anywhere near this bowl, it was merely waved over the surface to satisfy the description on the menu. The small bird in the roasted pigeon salad was appropriately crisp, richly brown and juicy. Needed salt however. Or some flavour. The accompanying dollop of coriander puree and undressed leaves were green. Nothing more can be said. The final course consisted of 4 small lamb dumplings with a yogurt sauce and a bit of chili: everything was adequate alone but did not hang together as a coherent dish. And the dumpling dough was tough and thick: a sad comparison to the light and delicate pork dumpling wrappers I had that day at a dim sum chain at a quarter of the cost.
The place was packed and so they were in a hurry to turn my table: the courses came swiftly and I was seated and gone within an hour. With so successful a franchise, I suspect that the chef does not see a need to stretch himself or his loyal clientele. In fact, it does not feel like there is a chef at the helm at all, more a corporation. Indeed I understand that they are looking at opening up a location in Beijing. They should save themselves and diners in Beijing the bother and the boredom.
In contrast was my meal on Monday at T8 in the trendy Xintiandi area in the French Concession. I found the place down a dimly lit cobblestone alley, glowing with the candles of other restaurants and cafes. Decor was all Asian inspired antiques, warm wood, stone and comfortable upholstered chairs and low couches. Anyone would look good in such an elegant atmosphere, but who needs to when the food is this stunning. I was first sat at a quiet table for 2 by the window, and when I said it was a little too isolated, and asked if I could sit at the bar, I was quickly moved to the “chef’s counter”. You know, that highly coveted seat right at the open kitchen where you can watch the chef and brigade go through their paces and see everyone else’s dishes come together. A perfect perch for a food voyeur.
First the disappointment: the M in M on the Bund must stand for mediocre. A cheap shot at an expensive restaurant but well deserved. I had my usual order: 3 appetizers with accompanying wine, all suggested by the maitre de. I find that an appetizer and a main do not offer enough of a stage for the chef to display his or her talents, and often, it is too much food as well. 3 small plates served in courses works well for me, in volume and in variety. So the view of the Bund at night, with the river boats and high rises of the Pudong all lit up in flashing colour is spectacular. And if madam is cold on the terrace, a wrap will be provided. All around me, groups of business colleagues celebrated with champagne and cigars, and large parties of family and friends toasted their special occasions. A festive place warmly lit and elegantly presented. Shame about the food.
I was prepared not to have my culinary socks blown off: it was presented as Shanghai’s first gourmet restaurant (since 2000), not her most innovative now, but a definite must do for visitors. I was expecting something along the lines of Scaramouche or Canoe in Toronto: lovely views of the sparkling city below, comfortable surroundings, and solidly executed cuisine with luxury touches in ingredients and presentation. A place to take out of town business colleagues or go for a special anniversary dinner with family. Well, the lobster and shrimp bisque was the color of brown lentils, tasted mostly of celery and smelled vaguely of fish. If a crustacean came anywhere near this bowl, it was merely waved over the surface to satisfy the description on the menu. The small bird in the roasted pigeon salad was appropriately crisp, richly brown and juicy. Needed salt however. Or some flavour. The accompanying dollop of coriander puree and undressed leaves were green. Nothing more can be said. The final course consisted of 4 small lamb dumplings with a yogurt sauce and a bit of chili: everything was adequate alone but did not hang together as a coherent dish. And the dumpling dough was tough and thick: a sad comparison to the light and delicate pork dumpling wrappers I had that day at a dim sum chain at a quarter of the cost.
The place was packed and so they were in a hurry to turn my table: the courses came swiftly and I was seated and gone within an hour. With so successful a franchise, I suspect that the chef does not see a need to stretch himself or his loyal clientele. In fact, it does not feel like there is a chef at the helm at all, more a corporation. Indeed I understand that they are looking at opening up a location in Beijing. They should save themselves and diners in Beijing the bother and the boredom.
In contrast was my meal on Monday at T8 in the trendy Xintiandi area in the French Concession. I found the place down a dimly lit cobblestone alley, glowing with the candles of other restaurants and cafes. Decor was all Asian inspired antiques, warm wood, stone and comfortable upholstered chairs and low couches. Anyone would look good in such an elegant atmosphere, but who needs to when the food is this stunning. I was first sat at a quiet table for 2 by the window, and when I said it was a little too isolated, and asked if I could sit at the bar, I was quickly moved to the “chef’s counter”. You know, that highly coveted seat right at the open kitchen where you can watch the chef and brigade go through their paces and see everyone else’s dishes come together. A perfect perch for a food voyeur.
The young man you see on the right is the Chef: born in Hungary, Jeno Friedl trained in Austria, Germany, and spent 3 years in Marbella, absorbing the latest in Spanish gastronomy (so says the website) In softly accented English, he was the one who advised me on my meal selection and took the order from me. After each course, he came and asked me how I was enjoying my meal. Oh happy day.
The first course was marinated scallops: on an 18” long narrow white plate, the thinly sliced perfectly tender scallops were nestled in a row of crème fraiche studded with chives. Over the top he ran a wide translucent ribbon of shimmering ginger jelly. The dish was strewn with yellow and purple nasturtium petals, perfect ½ inch cubes of hot pink watermelon and pale orange melon, and sprinkles of red rice that had been popped in hot oil until crunchy. (I know, because I asked him what the intriguing little red bits were) Not only was it the most exquisite presentation I have ever seen on a plate, it tasted literally dissolved on the tongue as you inhaled the sea and spring all together.
But wait, it gets better. The next course was a beef Carpaccio with arugula. Sounds like a tune we all know the words to. Not in the hands of this man, who is literally a painter on a plate. On a large, 18” long, and 10” wide shallow platter (I mention the plates, because every dish had its own unique presentation and special serving dish ) he placed the tender deep red beef in a large rectangle, over which there was a lattice work pattern of a creamy aioli, topped with bright green baby arugula. A few petals of grilled portabella mushrooms added a color contrast and toasted macadamia nuts were sprinkled over the piece. The whole effect was like looking at a red brick wall with a delicate green vine, trained on a lattice, climbing up it: a small mound of deep crimson beet sorbet in the middle looked just like a rose. And it tasted sublime.
The first course was marinated scallops: on an 18” long narrow white plate, the thinly sliced perfectly tender scallops were nestled in a row of crème fraiche studded with chives. Over the top he ran a wide translucent ribbon of shimmering ginger jelly. The dish was strewn with yellow and purple nasturtium petals, perfect ½ inch cubes of hot pink watermelon and pale orange melon, and sprinkles of red rice that had been popped in hot oil until crunchy. (I know, because I asked him what the intriguing little red bits were) Not only was it the most exquisite presentation I have ever seen on a plate, it tasted literally dissolved on the tongue as you inhaled the sea and spring all together.
But wait, it gets better. The next course was a beef Carpaccio with arugula. Sounds like a tune we all know the words to. Not in the hands of this man, who is literally a painter on a plate. On a large, 18” long, and 10” wide shallow platter (I mention the plates, because every dish had its own unique presentation and special serving dish ) he placed the tender deep red beef in a large rectangle, over which there was a lattice work pattern of a creamy aioli, topped with bright green baby arugula. A few petals of grilled portabella mushrooms added a color contrast and toasted macadamia nuts were sprinkled over the piece. The whole effect was like looking at a red brick wall with a delicate green vine, trained on a lattice, climbing up it: a small mound of deep crimson beet sorbet in the middle looked just like a rose. And it tasted sublime.
My last course was an arugula risotto, perfectly cooked to a al dente texture: the vegetal flavour of the rich green rice was complemented in taste and texture by the earthiness of poached quail eggs and truffled ice cream. Oh baby! The way that ice cream melted into the hot rice was a sensual experience on the tongue that I could have enjoyed for a long long time. Ineed, I was never rushed, and it was the best, most attentive service I can remember having in a restaurant anywhere.
Both meals came in at a little over $100 each, without tax or tip. I confess to having an extra drink and dessert on the terrace at M on the Bund just to prolong my stay! So the meal at T8 was more expensive: it was also more substantive in volume and in the use of luxury ingredients. And of course, in the quality of food, the inventiveness of the menus and the care in presentation, the two establishments are literally at opposite ends of the high end dining spectrum. I know where the smart money is going.
Postscript: I read some reviews online in preparation for writing this review, and discovered to my regret, that T8 is one of those few restaurants in China that does encourage tipping. And I thought it was just my charming Canadian accent that inspired such attention!
Both meals came in at a little over $100 each, without tax or tip. I confess to having an extra drink and dessert on the terrace at M on the Bund just to prolong my stay! So the meal at T8 was more expensive: it was also more substantive in volume and in the use of luxury ingredients. And of course, in the quality of food, the inventiveness of the menus and the care in presentation, the two establishments are literally at opposite ends of the high end dining spectrum. I know where the smart money is going.
Postscript: I read some reviews online in preparation for writing this review, and discovered to my regret, that T8 is one of those few restaurants in China that does encourage tipping. And I thought it was just my charming Canadian accent that inspired such attention!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Roses Blooming with Abandon
Not too much prose today: I am in the midst of trying to capture the essence of a delicious dinner I enjoyed last night. It was at a "fushion" restaurant which was recently judged by Conde Naste to be one of the top 50 in the world. Tonight, I am dining at one of the top 10 in China. It promises to be an interesting comparison of the cuisine of 2 of China's best Western style chefs, overlayed with the relative experience of the solitary diner (that would be me) in their establishments. A hardship I can hardly wait to experience!
As I promised some posts ago, there will be roses, and they are blooming in all their fragrant, beautous glory right now. In China, the rose is the symbol of youth; there is no one flower that symbolizes love exclusively as the rose does in the West. The peony is much revered in China: as a symbol of spring, it is also a metaphor for female beauty and reproduction. Peonies denote wealth and abundance, and in bloom can represent love and affection. According to one Chinese site on symbolism that I scanned, the leaves of the gingko tree also represent love. Novel idea for a Valentines' day gift: nothing says "I love you" like a gingko tree planted in the back yard!
Interestingly, I discovered that our own Maple Leaf is the emblem of lovers in China and Japan. Mmmh, could be the basis for a new tourism marketing campaign for Canada. But we must be wary of overpromising. Indeed, I wonder if travellers from those 2 nations are dissappointed now when they travel to our country and find a wealth of leaves but a dearth of lovers!
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