with Cara Lopez Lee, author of They Only Eat Their Husbands, a memoir of adventure in Alaska & around the world
April 4, 2008
Guangzhou, China
Yesterday, Fiona Zhu and I walked to Shang Xia Jiu, which literally means “Up-Down Nine,” as in “Up and Down 9th Street.” The long pedestrian avenue crosses the old town center, but it’s also one of the city’s trendiest hangouts. It’s the longest shopping street in Guangzhou, and a perfect showcase of Old China and New China.
April 3, 2008
Guangzhou, China
It’s another wet, cloud-swaddled morning in Guangzhou, the city’s towers and apartment blocks floating in a bath of white mist. Perhaps it’s for the best. This industrial city might otherwise look too starkly gritty and real in the full light of day. Since I’ve been here, daylight has seemed like the perpetual dusk of a nuclear winter.
If you’ve been waiting for the next installment of the search for my Chinese roots, please excuse the slight delay. As Marcia Brady would say, “Something suddenly came up.” It turns out I can’t manage a travel story every single day, unless I neglect my clients. So, to preserve my honor, and pay my mortgage, lets say I’ll post every day I can. That said, let’s return to China, where I’ve just left behind the small town of Bok Sa, for the big city of Guangzhou, once known as Canton. Once upon a time, this river port was a place where East met West. Now it is a place where the commercial power of the East is rising…
March 31, 2008
Bok Sa, Toishan, Guangdong Province, China
Another misty, rainy day and night in Toishan. I haven’t really seen the sun since I walked out of the airport in Hong Kong seven days ago. I do recall one five-minute reprieve when the clouds parted just long enough yesterday, or perhaps the day before, to remind me that the sun does still exist here in China.
March 31, 2008
Bok Sa, Toishan, Guangdong Province, China
Yesterday, we paid our promised visit to Old Mr. Ma Wen Hui. When we arrived, his granddaughter Ma Jin Feng and her mother Kuang Cui Lan flung open their doors and eagerly shepherded us inside.
March 30, 2008
Bok Sa, Toishan
Yesterday I took a laxative in the wee morning hours, but it didn’t kick in until afternoon, and even now I still feel full of crap. All the doughy dim sum in the mornings, and white rice and rice-based foods all day long aren’t helping. I’d pay a lot of money just for a bowl of oatmeal.
March 29, 2008
Bok Sa Town, Toishan, China
Yesterday, I hoped to find my great-grandfather’s village. I had thought he was from the village of Gong Hao. But it turns out that Gong Hao isn’t a village; rather, it’s a small district of many villages. Our hotel’s owner, Mr. Wong, knew of one village where a 99-year-old man still lives, and he suggested we go there, in the remote hope that the man might have known my great-grandfather. It seemed unlikely, as Ma Bing Sum left in 1908, a year before the old man was born. Still, I was eager to meet someone who could tell me about the ancient traditions of the region. So we called ahead, and Old Mr. Ma was expecting us.
March 28, 2008
Overseas Chinese Hotel
Bok Sa Town, Toishan County, Guangdong Province, China
In the town of Bok Sa, I’m not merely one of the few foreigners: I’m the only non-Chinese foreigner. As such, I’ve become an instant celebrity. Last night, our plump, smiling, short-haired, crooked-toothed waitress explained that many Overseas Chinese come here from America, but they all speak Chinese and they all look Chinese. That’s why the people in this town keep staring at me, not quite as often as people stared the last time I came to China, but just as boldly and just as unsmilingly. I keep trying the advice I saw in a blog post; another traveler in China said a big smile would draw one in return. So, instead of looking away, or staring back with the same stony eyes, I smile. Nothing. They just keep staring.
March 26, 2008
Hong Kong
I wanted a “hearty” breakfast. Fiona Zhu wasn’t familiar with that word, so I said, “I want to eat a meal that will make me feel full and make me strong… so I can walk all day.” She still seemed at a loss, possible because I also said I wanted to eat what locals eat. Finally, I mentioned jook, a rice porridge usually served with bits of meat and vegetables. I’d never eaten it before, but it was something my Uncle Roy had told me he remembered eating when he lived in China. Jook was something Fiona understood.
March 26, 2008
Mong Kok, Kowloon, Hong Kong
Yesterday morning, Fiona Zhu and I ate breakfast at a noodle shop. I ordered rice noodles with pork in soup. I expected little bits of pork, and was disconcerted to see an entire chop in my bowl. It was tasty, although I could see why some people think Cantonese food bland compared to Szechuan, or other spicier regional cuisine. Our waitress also brought us a pile of steamed Chinese greens. The bitterness was a sweet reminder of childhood, when Chinese food with Gramma and Grampa at a small Cantonese restaurant in East LA was an almost weekly part of our lives.
