Last night we recovered from a long day of sightseeing to the Jewish Center of Harbin (20,000 Jews lived in Harbin, China from the early 20th c. until the 1930’s developing a large majority of the businesses and building the complex which is the downtown area of Center Street, with its Old World European architecture. The Chinese were very welcoming to the Jew, even referring to them as “Harbinitsi” (sp?) and inviting them back annually for a celebration honoring their contribution to the community.
So that was the morning. We had been brave souls and chosen to take the bus from the East gate entrance of the campus, a mere 1 yuan (16 cents) to travel all the way to downtown. It was relatively painless, a bit of a jaunt from the bus stop to downtown, where the Jewish Center was located. We then wanted to try a dumplings place that our host, Yong, had suggested, called Old World King Dumpling or something to that affect. Delicious. Crowded clean restaurant. Horrible service. We were basically ignored. But the food was again another delicious assortment of textures and flavors and spices.
Our driver Joe introduced to Chinese cucumbers. These are a favorite snack item for Chinese. They carry them in their bags and will munch on them raw. These have a crisper thinner skin, and are a nice change of pace from raw carrots. I think this is one item we can carry over to our American lifestyle. The cucumbers are then also prepared in dishes, usually in long strings, and are a perfect complement to the spices. YUM.
After we ate a late lunch of dumplings, and checked out a bakery that Beloved and the kids have been dying to try, we decided to take the bus back to campus. It was a stressful experience. Imagine a city bus. Each seat is taken so you grab a handle and stand there. The entire length of the bus fills up. Then the bus continues to stop at each stop. Another full length of the bus fills up because no one is getting off the bus yet. Then the bus takes on another bus stop full of people, therefore filling the bus to seven people across, the entire length of the bus (two in each seat on each side = four people, three people standing=seven people totalx20+rows of seats= a hella lot of flesh). I had to close my eyes and do some deep breathing because the sight of so many people pressed against me and more importantly, my children, was agony. Tank’s head was sometimes appear over the crowd “Mom let’s get off at this next stop k?” and Bumpo’s expression was one of goggle-eyes and distress. She was without arm’s length of me and was two ‘black heads’ away from her sister, so I was not happy. Claustrophobia is real and beloveds, I would not be afraid to admit I’d be the one at the Who concert running over people to get out of the crowd.
This agony prevailed for about 20 minutes, burdened even further by a drunk man in an unbuttoned shirt, sweats and visible underwear waistband. He had open seeping bleeding sores on his legs. He spent the majority of his time in Beloved’s face speaking garbled Chinese belligerently in his face. Beloved said he was thisclose to elbowing him in the face. Glad he didn’t.
Got off the bus, we let the kids go on ahead as we walked over to the school grocery store to pick up a few things. Dinner consisted of cheese, crackers and Harbin beer. Early night sleep wormed through by images of Bumpo getting pushed off the bus or Doe getting groped by drunk Chinese guy.
As were walking home Doe said “Hey Dad…just a thought…somethings are WORTH paying the extra money for!”
I would rather walk six miles than ever get on a city bus in China ever again.
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