Lunch in the Alley

(I wrote this a few weeks ago; now I know more about Chinese food and can ask for more dishes than I could when I wrote this!)

I’m getting a little tired of the food in our dining hall; I think I’ve tried all of the dishes that look appealing that sit in the trays that we can point to. There are lots of other things we see people eating which they are order and are made in the kitchen we can only see a glimpse of, but we don’t know what the dishes are called. If we were in a restaurant, we could say “I’m having what she’s having,” but the dining hall is a huge crush of people on three floors and not conducive to conversations about what you might like to eat with the people behind the counter. It’s gently or not-so-gently push your way to the front, point out something you want, and stick your meal card into the reader so they can deduct how many RMB it costs. I know several good restaurants on the west side of the Third Ring Road, but that’s about a 15 or 20-minute walk, and I needed something faster. There’s an alley that runs behind our building filled with small restaurants and shops, also known for the vendors who set up carts and sell food and other goods. I thought I’d look for some jaozi or baozi (two kinds of filled dumplings, the first boiled and the other steamed), and if I could figure out how to say it, some bok choy with garlic and chilies.
It was a beautiful day today, sunny and dry, the haze of smog gone, the sky bright blue, a great day for a stroll down the alley. The variety of vendors in a small space is remarkable: on the short walk to the noodle shop, you can see dozens and dozens of local scenes worth a photograph. I saw a man open a small cardboard box filled with tiny cages; in each cage were even smaller white rabbits and white kittens. On the other side of the alley was a man who every day sets up a cart topped by a steel drum, which is used as an oven to cook smoky sweet potatoes that he sells hot in their jackets, setting them along the rim when they are cooked. In the alley you can also buy a kind of hot dog or sausage grilled in a hot skillet. Another man sells stuffed animals. Beiwai’s student population is about 70% female, so no jokes about eating cats or rabbits: these little white morsels- I hope - are sold as pets, and I saw them examined by college students carrying their books back to the dorm, not men or women thinking of cooking dinner. Many of the vendors sell fruit: watermelons, fat purple and green grapes, bitter melon, pale yellow pears, striped apples, large yellowy-pink peaches. Others sell vegetables: bok choy (it goes by another name in Mandarin-speaking Beijing), onions, scallions, lettuce, cilantro, potatoes, carrots, long thin cucumbers, something that looks like baby spinach. One man sells phone cards from a blanket, lined neatly with dozens, each in a different pattern. Most of the vendors use some sort of wheeled cart to either convey their wares or as a portable table or both. Some carts are attached to a bicycle wheels and pedals so they can be covered and ridden home at the end of the day, or transported to another location. When business is slow, they take a nap.
People sleep anywhere in China, and it no longer surprises us to see them sleeping in unlikely public or private spots. One night, stuck on a bus in traffic at the same spot for twenty minutes, one of our students noticed two waitresses, in their uniforms, sound asleep at a table in the upstairs front window of the restaurant. People sleep on top of carts, on tables, crouched against walls, seemingly oblivious to the crowds going by.
All the while I walked along the alley, I could see over the wall to our building, Guojiao, which reaches up 17 stories. It has a distinctive profile and can be seen from quite a distance in the direction of the alley (east, away from the Third Ring Road), so if you are looking for a restaurant for a few blocks around you see it when you come out and find your way back. There is a western-style restaurant called Tube Station, with pizza and coffee and an English menu, but I’m not hungry for western-style food yet. I tried another – looked like a noodle shop, a good place for dumplings. The alley also includes a Japanese restaurant where I’ve eaten in a group: excellent, and Japanese style (one person, one plate) so fine for just a few people. I found a noodle shop: no baozi today, but they did have jaozi, though no one spoke English. So – some jaozi. And yi ping shui – one bottle of water. I watched them pour hot water out of a tap into a cup. Bu, meiyou bei shui, wo yao yi ping shui. No, I don’t want a cup, I want a bottle of water. Meiyou ping shui. We don’t have bottled water. Yi ting kele? A can of Coke? Meiyou ting kele. I saw her reach into a refrigerator and pull out a 16-ounce bottle of Coke. Hao, yi ping kele. Good, a bottle of Coke. A plate of about eight jaozi arrived, boiled ravioli filled with chopped pork, garlic and scallions. My small phrasebook doesn’t include the Mandarin word for bok choy or green vegetables, so that will have to wait for another day. I looked around for the dark vinegar that the dumplings are usually served with – the manager pointed to the table behind me. Someone handed me the bottle of vinegar. She brought another small dish of sauce, explaining the difference. They were both thin and brown. One vinegar, one flavored soy? I think so. Delicious. I paid the bill: 8 kuai (yuan, or RMB): less than a dollar.