If you can't slurp, you can't eat Chinese noodles

Some Random Final Thoughts About China

Noodles: They are the national dish, it seems. Rice seems to be more Japanese, noodles more Chinese. 'Engineer' confided to me, during our fancy dinner at the 5-star Shang-ri-la hotel, "I'm a simple guy. I just eat noodles." And he doesn't eat fish which, In China, may be as sacriligeous to us an Iowan not eating corn on the cob, or morel 'shrooms. We had fresh fish at every meal, thanks to Michael. And it was delicious.

But back to the noodles. The Italians have it all wrong. Wrapping spaghetti around a fork shoved into a spoon seems antiquated when one sees the Chinese eat noodles. Then, again, I've seen the end of a strand of speghetti; but I've never seen the end of a strand of noodles. One might conclude that they may be endless.

As an aside, there are many kinds of noodles. Michael was especially fond of the Hong Kong noodles, thin little see-through noodles. The ones pictured were served in a neat restuarant near the Terra Cotta Warriors. I called them serious noodles. More like the spaetzel served in the Amana Colonies.

Noodles 101 teaches to grasp a bunch of noodles with chopsticks, and stuff them into your mouth. Then you slurp them up until the mouth seems full enough. It helps to bend ones's head over the plate as spatter can be significant depending upon the speed of the slurp. Although, I know of no such measurement, as in rpm's for example.

At this point, the diner does something foreign to Caucasian ways. You bite off the noodle strands and the rest falls back onto your bowl. Of course, this action flies in the face of everything our mothers taught us; but then we didn't have Chinese mothers. It's really sort of fun, once you get the hang of it. Hey! Everyone else in the restaurant is doing the same thing. When in Beijing do as the Beijingers do, I always say. Well, now I do.

"Think of all the starving kids in China!": We depression kids of the thirties were duty-bound to clean our plates. Our parents warned us again and again that food was precious and we were far luckier than others. 'Think of all the starving children in China' became a mealtime mantra, even if the food left was okra, or dandelion greens, or sweetbreads. Honest.

I mentioned this to a lovely Chinese waitress who was removing my plate with food still on it. She laughed, "That's funny. Our parents always told us to think of all the starving children in Indonesia!"

Pickup Trucks: I never saw one. Of course, we were in the big cities so maybe that tipped the scales. But not one? Lot's of three-wheeler bicycles hauling stuff though; perhaps that's why.

Praying before breakfast: A young Chinese lady sat down near my table in the cafe and before she ate her food, closed her eyes, clasped her hands and bowed in an attitude of prayer. By now emboldened because no Chinese person had refused to engage in smiles and nods or English repartee, I stopped by her table on the way out, "Excuse me, bu are you a Christian?" I asked. When she admitted she was, I asked if she was Catholic. Yes, again. "But there are some Protestants in China," she added.

The National Geographic reports that 8.2% of the Chinese are Christians. Multiplied by their population that may be more than in America.

I left her table, recalling how the Russian Communists had brutally rejected any form of religion. Communist China seems to have taken a different stance. And the lady worked for the hotel.

Using a Toothpick: The Chinese do this differently, and I saw scores of them performing the ritual. Michael showed me how: You cover your mouth and the toothpick with your other hand and shield the act from watching eyes. Somehow this seems like a cultural advance.

Gunpowder, Yo-yos and umbrellas: Since we've returned, the Gazette featured a story of how local children are learning of the Chinese culture and now know that the Chinese invented gunpower, yo-yos and umbrellas. Seemed strange the reporter left out the Chinese inventions of silk, paper and printing, which seem to outrank yo-yos and umbrellas, IMHO.

Smog in Beijing: The Friday after my Wednesday return, the Des Moines Register ran a picture showing three bicycle riders riding with a backdrop of what they called smog, so dense one could see nothing behind the riders. The title of the picture was something like: This is not L.A. It's Beijing. I sent three pictures of Beijing to the editor at the Register, taken only days before, saying that it appeared the reporter had turned morning fog into smog to make a case. Our pictures, and we, never once revealed an iota of smog. The smog story seems to have a life of it's own, facts be damned.

This Trip Called Life: In an upscale, posh department store, the equal of Macys, I watched a young lad scootering along on wheels embedded in his tennis shoes. Suddenly, it occurred to me what this trip we call life is all about: It's a venture we take from 'wheels on heels' to 'meals on wheels.'

Have a good ride.