 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
Travel China: The Noodle Man ~ Article by Jaime Hamilton |
| WAVE Journey.com Women's Adventures, Vacations & Experiences ~ Your Journey Starts Here! |
TM
A Woman's Directory For Travel and Life.
WAVE Journey is your one-stop online resource for women-oriented travel businesses & services
around the world.
WAVE Journey is for every woman to enjoy. If you love to travel, cook, read or revel in outdoor activities this website
is for you. If you are looking to connect with other like-minded women or if you are interested in finding businesses
or services that cater to women, WAVE Journey is your number one online travel resource.
WAVE Journey is your one-stop online resource for women-oriented travel businesses & services
around the world.
WAVE Journey is for every woman to enjoy. If you love to travel, cook, read or revel in outdoor activities this website
is for you. If you are looking to connect with other like-minded women or if you are interested in finding businesses
or services that cater to women, WAVE Journey is your number one online travel resource.
I had a hankering for soup the other day...it was no different from most days since liquids seem to be the
only thing in my diet other than mystery meat skewers, odd taffy-like candy and beer…which is still a liquid.
I decided to do a bit of exploring before hitting my usual noodle joint - I've already 'mastered' dumplings
(shui jiao - pronounced shwee jaow) and was looking for something else to broaden my culinary pallet. I
decided Noodles with Green Vegetables sounded promising and vegetarian. Armed with my one Chinese
phrase - repeated a dozen times before I left the apartment - I meandered down the alley – a quaint
street by the name of Wendi Lu, inspecting shops, casting smiles at weary Chinese folks who could only be
thinking "why the hell is this American here of all places?"
only thing in my diet other than mystery meat skewers, odd taffy-like candy and beer…which is still a liquid.
I decided to do a bit of exploring before hitting my usual noodle joint - I've already 'mastered' dumplings
(shui jiao - pronounced shwee jaow) and was looking for something else to broaden my culinary pallet. I
decided Noodles with Green Vegetables sounded promising and vegetarian. Armed with my one Chinese
phrase - repeated a dozen times before I left the apartment - I meandered down the alley – a quaint
street by the name of Wendi Lu, inspecting shops, casting smiles at weary Chinese folks who could only be
thinking "why the hell is this American here of all places?"
| Pg 1 of 2 | Next Page | |
Wenzhou – located in the Zhejiang province of China – is what one might call an “up
and coming city.” A modest population, constantly in flux, of 6-9 million people keeps
this business town afloat. Wenzhou is known for its shoe factories – producing 30%
of the world’s shoes and 80% of the world’s lighters. It is also home to several
universities – one of which I had just begun a yearlong contract teaching English.
With virtually no Chinese under my belt, I fled the states – fearful of the ever-
worsening recession and endeavored to make my mark on the world…in Asia.
On this particular day, I wandered into the newer grocery market - a smaller version
of a Safeway - that sells anything from socks and underwear to frozen shrimp and
fresh produce. While there a teller followed me around, occasionally saying "hello."
He may have thought I was casing the joint, he may have been curious about me, or
he may have wanted to speak English. I didn't bother with him, smiled and continued
to walk around the store. I really wanted to shove my hand into the gigantic rice bin
and play with my food, but couldn’t risk it with that silly 17 year-old pimple-faced
teller following me around like a puppy dog.
Empty handed, I left in search of food, and meandered down the road, looking in
storefronts and shop windows - there are so many shops with clothes and fashion
bits...I've wondered on several occasion how these folks make a living. It seems like
there is a new shop every day, or at least construction going on day and night. I
have a theory that these shop owners buy their goods in bulk, sell as much as they
can, and then close up shop, thus resulting in multiple renovations of the same space
within a three month period. The turnover rate for shops in these parts is astounding!
Rounding the corner to the soup shop, I noticed yet again, another Chinese man
staring at me. Big surprise there! I smiled and quickly averted my eyes - adopting my
"French" pose, deciding to act shy and demure whilst pretending to be fascinated by
the pattern the bricks made on the sidewalk. It's not that I don't want the attention...
because I don't...but I really don't want to give the wrong impression to these folks.
Better to seem modest and respectful than overtly friendly…besides, I don’t even
know how to say the word “no” in Chinese! I continued to walk. The man followed
me. I paid him no mind.
Stopping at the door to the soup shop, I went inside the very small "restaurant," if
you can call it that. The dining room is smaller than an average bedroom in the United
States – with most of the square footage in the back for the kitchen. Dreading my
next task, but too hungry to really care, I began the worrisome task of remembering
just how to say my one Chinese phrase. The man followed me in, "shui jiao" he yelled
from the door and immediately put his things down: a man purse - strangely similar
to a Coach bag my sister owns, a bottle of tea, and his Armani Exchange clad self. He
sent me a goofy grin and attempted to start a conversation with me. This fellow
looked like an Asian version of Pinocchio without the long nose – big eyes, goofy grin,
glasses, and a very large and round head toped with a mop of straight black hair
stereotypical of all Asians. Again, I smiled, "dubuqi," or "sorry" I managed to say and
walked to the counter to order my food. In China, you order your food first in most of
these places, pay and then they bring your food to you. So strange to me at the
time! But then again, everything is strange in foreign countries.
and coming city.” A modest population, constantly in flux, of 6-9 million people keeps
this business town afloat. Wenzhou is known for its shoe factories – producing 30%
of the world’s shoes and 80% of the world’s lighters. It is also home to several
universities – one of which I had just begun a yearlong contract teaching English.
With virtually no Chinese under my belt, I fled the states – fearful of the ever-
worsening recession and endeavored to make my mark on the world…in Asia.
On this particular day, I wandered into the newer grocery market - a smaller version
of a Safeway - that sells anything from socks and underwear to frozen shrimp and
fresh produce. While there a teller followed me around, occasionally saying "hello."
He may have thought I was casing the joint, he may have been curious about me, or
he may have wanted to speak English. I didn't bother with him, smiled and continued
to walk around the store. I really wanted to shove my hand into the gigantic rice bin
and play with my food, but couldn’t risk it with that silly 17 year-old pimple-faced
teller following me around like a puppy dog.
Empty handed, I left in search of food, and meandered down the road, looking in
storefronts and shop windows - there are so many shops with clothes and fashion
bits...I've wondered on several occasion how these folks make a living. It seems like
there is a new shop every day, or at least construction going on day and night. I
have a theory that these shop owners buy their goods in bulk, sell as much as they
can, and then close up shop, thus resulting in multiple renovations of the same space
within a three month period. The turnover rate for shops in these parts is astounding!
Rounding the corner to the soup shop, I noticed yet again, another Chinese man
staring at me. Big surprise there! I smiled and quickly averted my eyes - adopting my
"French" pose, deciding to act shy and demure whilst pretending to be fascinated by
the pattern the bricks made on the sidewalk. It's not that I don't want the attention...
because I don't...but I really don't want to give the wrong impression to these folks.
Better to seem modest and respectful than overtly friendly…besides, I don’t even
know how to say the word “no” in Chinese! I continued to walk. The man followed
me. I paid him no mind.
Stopping at the door to the soup shop, I went inside the very small "restaurant," if
you can call it that. The dining room is smaller than an average bedroom in the United
States – with most of the square footage in the back for the kitchen. Dreading my
next task, but too hungry to really care, I began the worrisome task of remembering
just how to say my one Chinese phrase. The man followed me in, "shui jiao" he yelled
from the door and immediately put his things down: a man purse - strangely similar
to a Coach bag my sister owns, a bottle of tea, and his Armani Exchange clad self. He
sent me a goofy grin and attempted to start a conversation with me. This fellow
looked like an Asian version of Pinocchio without the long nose – big eyes, goofy grin,
glasses, and a very large and round head toped with a mop of straight black hair
stereotypical of all Asians. Again, I smiled, "dubuqi," or "sorry" I managed to say and
walked to the counter to order my food. In China, you order your food first in most of
these places, pay and then they bring your food to you. So strange to me at the
time! But then again, everything is strange in foreign countries.
Stomach growling rather noisily, I resolved to spit out the Chinese words I’d been
chewing over for the last 45 minutes. Making a fool of myself, I uttered "Ching tai mean
ctow;” I managed it with as much confidence as possible. The woman stared at me,
eyes wide, mouth agape. Oh no, had I ordered fried babies feet or chair intestines &
brain soup? She continued to stare at me for another half second – chewing her gum
and no doubt trying to figure out what the hell I wanted. “Mian tai?” she finally asked -
soup; I nodded frantically, my earrings swaying with the bobbled movement of my head.
“Fyyvee,” she said holding up her five fingers. Just like that – communication success.
“Oh, right. Got to pay,” I stammered in English. I fished out the money, gave her five
coins, dropped her a “shi shi,” or thank you and mentally congratulated myself on
communicating somewhat clearly my wants and wishes. Still reveling in my success, I
was about to turn around when I realized Asian Pinocchio – or The Noodle Man as I
have affectionately called him since – was standing right behind me smiling that dorky
smile again. Come to think of it, he looked a lot like the villain in the Disney movie
Despicable Me…but Asian.
Oh crap, now what? I thought rather pessimistically. Rather than actually speak to him, I
sat down immediately, hoping that he’d get the hint that I was in no way, shape or form
interested in having a conversation – not that we could actually converse anyhow. In
China, actions speak louder than words I’m told – if you don’t want a man’s attention,
you simply tell him “no” very firmly and let it go at that. The Noodle Man didn’t get my
subtle hint. Speaking to me in Chinese – which sounds surprisingly a lot like Klingon but
without the guttural sounds – I adopted the doe-eyed stare and simply looked back at
him. I’m not that much of a dunce because his intention was clear – waving his hands in
the air and motioning to my table, he was asking my permission to sit with me…across
from me at a very very small table. What did I do? Well, I didn’t tell him yes, but then
again, I didn’t tell him no either. He took my confused non-answer as a positive one and
plopped himself down in front of me.
chewing over for the last 45 minutes. Making a fool of myself, I uttered "Ching tai mean
ctow;” I managed it with as much confidence as possible. The woman stared at me,
eyes wide, mouth agape. Oh no, had I ordered fried babies feet or chair intestines &
brain soup? She continued to stare at me for another half second – chewing her gum
and no doubt trying to figure out what the hell I wanted. “Mian tai?” she finally asked -
soup; I nodded frantically, my earrings swaying with the bobbled movement of my head.
“Fyyvee,” she said holding up her five fingers. Just like that – communication success.
“Oh, right. Got to pay,” I stammered in English. I fished out the money, gave her five
coins, dropped her a “shi shi,” or thank you and mentally congratulated myself on
communicating somewhat clearly my wants and wishes. Still reveling in my success, I
was about to turn around when I realized Asian Pinocchio – or The Noodle Man as I
have affectionately called him since – was standing right behind me smiling that dorky
smile again. Come to think of it, he looked a lot like the villain in the Disney movie
Despicable Me…but Asian.
Oh crap, now what? I thought rather pessimistically. Rather than actually speak to him, I
sat down immediately, hoping that he’d get the hint that I was in no way, shape or form
interested in having a conversation – not that we could actually converse anyhow. In
China, actions speak louder than words I’m told – if you don’t want a man’s attention,
you simply tell him “no” very firmly and let it go at that. The Noodle Man didn’t get my
subtle hint. Speaking to me in Chinese – which sounds surprisingly a lot like Klingon but
without the guttural sounds – I adopted the doe-eyed stare and simply looked back at
him. I’m not that much of a dunce because his intention was clear – waving his hands in
the air and motioning to my table, he was asking my permission to sit with me…across
from me at a very very small table. What did I do? Well, I didn’t tell him yes, but then
again, I didn’t tell him no either. He took my confused non-answer as a positive one and
plopped himself down in front of me.