Shopping and walking in China

Shopping is a pastime enjoyed by many of China’s foreign residents. Clothing, electronics, assorted kitsch items: It’s all affordable.

I shot this image last weekend as Mrs. Stevo and I were taking a break from shopping. What attracted me was the lovely and long 4 pm shadows.

I bought a shirt and a headband for my torturous adventures in the local gym. Mrs. Stevo purchased a shirt, a yellow number that proclaims “Superstar” or some such statement to the world. Ah, shopping. I hate it yet love it.

An extravagant dinner is a big part of the recent Chinese Mid Autumn Festival celebration (a much tastier part than the moon cakes). Mrs. Stevo and I were lucky enough to dine with some friends, Kejia or Hakka people. When I heard snake was on the menu I started to highly anticipate the meal. Would it taste like chicken, as I had heard? Frog, another legendary chicken-flavored meat, does taste somewhat like chicken I had discovered.

Snake is much better than Chinese Mooncakes

Mrs. Stevo has a pathological fear of snakes. Not like, “Yikes, a snake!”  More like, a crying fit that requires a sedative. This fear isn’t limited to the live reptile: It also extends to anything that looks like (in her perception) a snake. Toy snakes, the elongated shadow of a moth, gerbils, all cause a screaming fit. Mrs. Stevo was a little hesitant to attend the Mid-Autumn Festival celebration in case live snakes were slithering around. That was not the case, the snakes were cooked.

The yellow-tinted snake wine tasted venomous. It was if the snake was biting the inside of your mouth from the great hereafter. It wasn’t without its charms but not a tipple I would partake of every day.  I did not sample the snake gallbladder wine. I will only go so far in my efforts to culturally assimilate.

An earthen pot held snake and chicken soup. The steamy, light-flavored broth did indeed taste like chicken. I didn’t get to eat the snake meat: Mrs. Stevo’s nerves started to get jittery when she realized the pot was full of snake. The fact the snake was deceased and had been cooked for several hours didn’t matter much.

The giant platter of snake meat looked a lot like fried fish fillets. The skin was a greyish black. As I pulled the meat from the bones I was a tad repulsed. You’re eating a snake, a gross slithering creature, my inner monologue droned. I pushed forward, eating the snake fillet, and then another.

Yes, snake does taste like chicken. The texture, at least of the snake I ate, was chicken-esque.

My next goal, a difficult one, is eating monkey. Yes, the look cute on TV, that’s just good PR. If you have ever dealt with a real monkey (the little bastards) you’d ask for an invite to the feast.

The Stevo's were married October 3, 2006.

It was three years ago today that Mrs. Stevo and I had our wedding reception. We were married the July before at the registry office: That happens in China – months (or years) between the civil ceremony and the reception. Mrs. Stevo thinks the reception is the proper occasion to commemorate. I disagree, but my thoughts on the matter aren’t important.

October 3, 2009 means three things, a strange convergence of lives, the lunar calendar, and past events. Our wedding anniversary, Mid-Autumn Festival, and the anniversary of the death of Mrs. Stevo’s grandfather (she thinks he died on this date so she would always remember him).

One day, three events. ‘Tis a strange world sometimes.

After my fun afternoon playing dressing up in the park with Mrs. Stevo, I decided to revisit the locale. Mrs. Stevo acted as make-up artist/assistant, wearing a Queen Elizabeth-type hat (she is fond of hats), her colleague was the model. No, it’s not a perfect shot. There’s a few technical details that irk me, but overall it’s not bad. Shooting in a public space, with many spectators, and trying to keep track of a model, gear, and setting flashes is not an easy task.

I’m heading into a lovely 8-day national holiday. It will be a photographyfest. Stay tuned.

Guangxiao Si, the Bright Filial Piety Temple is one the oldest in Guangzhou, Guangdong Province’s capital. History places the first temple buildings on the site during the 4th century, before mighty Guangzhou was a city. The compound is significant because Hui Neng, of the Zen Buddhist sect, was a novice at the temple during the 7th century.

That’s what the guidebook says. Guangxiao Si has seen dynasties rise and fall, generations born, live and die, and one of the largest cities of the world spring up around its walls. Much of the temple was destroying during a 17th century fire and rebuilt. It remains timeless place of stillness and beauty.

Fragrant smoke hangs heavy over the grounds. Incense, purchased from the temple or the shops surrounding it, is placed before the Maltreya Buddha.
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Women say prayers and leave offerings at the West Iron Pagoda. The ritual continues as they walk around the four-sided iron structure, saying prayers facing north, east and south. Some circle the pagoda, fingers trailing over the cold surface, incense burning in the other.
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Chanting surrounds the Mahavira Hall. The faithful line its walls, texts in hand.
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A group gathers in front of the structure. Inside a master chants sacred words, his voice heard above the hundreds.
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Two monks retreat from the holy chaos for a moment’s respite. I watch them leave, and the assembled worshippers continue with rituals as their ancestors have for generations.
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Originally Published: November 24, 2007.

The apple of Sti Fu's eye: Island/Ellen

Mrs. Stevo and I had dinner with a former student of mine and her parents this past weekend. Island, who has changed her name to Ellen, is starting Grade 3. She was/is the apple of Sti Fu’s once-calloused eye. Honestly, she was the only reason that kept me from quitting during my last term at the incredibly badly managed Chinese private school. Seeing her each afternoon gave me purpose.

I had grown accustom to seeing Island everyday. Mrs. Stevo called her parents and we met at a local and somewhat swanky restaurant. Island/Ellen jumped up and down upon seeing me. She handed me gifts: A stuffed animal (a red cow), a small plastic kangaroo in a box, and a sheet of lined paper plastered with stickers.

The father, a department head at an airline, ordered: Turtle soup served in a coconut shell, sea cucumber in a delightful sauce, steaks, and an assortment of other gastronomic delights (eat your heart out Donna).

Paying a restaurant bill in China isn’t an easy task. Who invited who dictates who settle the mai dan. They invited us, but I had wanted to see Island: A quandary. Mrs. Stevo thought I should pay.

I had 600 RMB in my pocket, more than enough to cover dinner for five. (The night I got engaged I bought dinner for eight, and the better part of a delivery truck full of beer, and that bill was less than 300). I knew the rare (and pretty) food we had consumed was out of my price range. Mrs. Stevo has a credit card but keeps it locked away in a drawer.

The bill came.

Mrs. Stevo: Pay the bill.

Stevo (whispering): I can’t.

Mrs. Stevo tried with verbal acrobatics to take the bill . I projected screams of “NO! NO! NO!” with my mental powers hoping to curb Mrs. Stevo’s generosity.  In the end the father brushed Mrs. Stevo aside and paid the bill. Of course, when we dine out again it will be my turn.

The good of this: I got to see Island/Ellen again. The bad? Not really anything. Perhaps a back-breaking dinner expense sometime down the road. But, Island/Ellen is worth it.