Mutianyu

The Great Wall

Mutianyu Village is located in a ravine at the base of the Yanshan Mountains, approximately 70 kilometers to the northeast of Beijing. Two facts of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) history made this location particularly auspicious. The first was Ming enthusiasm for wall building, motivated in large part by a persistent fear that the Mongolians, whom the Ming had defeated in order to become the next ruling dynasty of China, remained a formidable threat to their grip on power. The physical space buffering the divide between the Han Chinese and Mongolian civilizations thus became prime building ground for defensive walls to keep the Mongols out.

The second fact was that in 1402, the Yongle Emperor usurped the Ming throne and subsequently returned the capital city from Nanjin in the south back to Beijing, This development elevated the strategic importance of Great Wall sites closest to the capital as a last line of defense against a Mongol invasion.

The Village

Leaving the Great Wall site, the view of the village is framed on both sides by mountains and hillsides that are sprinkled on both sides by mountains and hillsides that are sprinkled with ancient pines and sliced into bits of terrace just wide enough to accommodate a pair of apricot or chestnut trees. The main road that serves as the primary vein of village life snakes its way down into the ravine, as if someone started drawing an 's' and forgot to stop.

To the east of the main road, smaller dirt roads spread like fingers with houses at the end of their tips. To the west, the much flatter terrain permits a horizontal clustering of homes arranged in maze-like fashion. Some of the homes are coated with a thin layer of whitewash with bits of bare brick showing through in spots, and their facades are adorned with small garden patches fronted by doorways lined with long red strips of glossy paper whose bulbous gold-coloured "Good Fortune" characters become distorted as the corners start to peel away.


Mutianyu: Off the Great Wall- E. Williams








The School House







Sancha



to be continued...

The Big Dong

Last Thursday when my T. Dot fellow foodie Tudor came to town for a visit, I arranged for a meal at Beijing's revered modern duck institution, Da Dong. Of course, I asked Adlyn to accompany us on this holy grail of Peking duck journeys, enlightening us to the ways of imperial duck dining and of course, showing us the keys to the VIP by way of a visit to the famous back kitchen...

Da Dong has an impressive facade, a grand hall used as a waiting area with a bar and stools looking into the glass-encased kitchen. As most patrons have to wait for a table- yes, even us- the bar is a great idea because they can work on getting their guests slightly tipsy which makes ordering from the elaborate menus that much more interesting later... Another great idea is the free flow of house wine and juice to speed up the process of inebriation. Alriiiight.

The General Manager came out to greet us after a short wait and brought us to meet the Master Chef and the army of sous chefs standing in military rows in the kitchen. There were three large ovens in which ducks are hung exactly 1 meter away from the flame to ensure optimal succulence and crispiness. In the middle of the wall hung a large blackboard displaying in handwritten chalk the number of ducks on order that night. The kitchen was about 300 hundred degrees and my face melted in the heat of the flames.

We talked to the Chef and found out all his secrets, which I will now package up into a little ball of espionage and bring back to Toronto, where duck lovers are seriously missing out.

Here are some sous chefs at work, the Master chef giving us a lesson in Da Donging, and a happy family portrait.






The food was a feat of artistic gastronomy that I'm sure is the first to hit the Peking duck scene. The traditional components of duck are all there; the sesame rolls, the paper-thin pancakes, scallions, cucumbers, sweet sauce and minced garlic, but everything was just that much more haute because of the delicate presentation and showy setting. Duck is the focus, but the offerings do not end there, with page after shiny page of accompanying dishes from braised sea cucumber to mango-wrapped scallops. Some dishes are decidedly sexier with the markings of a well-traveled chef who understands the appeal of molecular gastronomy on the senses and palate. We ordered dishes like mushroom with beer foam, hoisin-glazed cod in a pumpkin, minced duck meat served in a "bird nest", and lotus root, although my less than inspiring descriptions do the menu no justice. Seriously, the mushroom with beer foam had a much more appealing name, which I forget... My favorite was the cod. What miso? Hoisin is the new it-glaze! I could sit there and eat 5 of those everyday for the rest of my life.

The highlight of my dinner though, was naturally the duck. That was when I realized the reason for the army of sous chefs in the kitchen. They are on call to roll each duck by trolley out to the hundreds of tables and perform the art of slicing the finest meat off the bones. Apparently, the marking of a top-tiered duck chef is the ability to cut the duck into 100 slices. No easy feat believe me, despite cheers and encouragement from our table, I think our chef was only able to slice it into 60. Booooo. A+ for effort though!

A tasty trick from the imperial kitchen, which Da Dong practices but I have not seen in other duck kitchens, is to dip a crispy-thin layer of melt-in-your-mouth duck skin into sugar and placing it on your tongue. Holy mother of duck it was divine. I didn't even need to have the meat after that it was so good. I won't entertain you with the other details of the meal, you are either familiar with the components of a Peking duck dinner or you should read Fuchsia Dunlop's comprehensive foray into Da Dong for a better understanding. Without further ado, here are le fotos.














A sweet ending.

Chanel No.5 film feat Audrey Tatou

In my mind she just embodies all that French luxury stands for.




Watch it here.

you me and the bourgeoisie

Stop the press. I chewed gum in Singapore. Whoops, totally forgot where I was, so don't tell on me please.

After four days on the island I'm convinced Singapore is the ideal society. I mean, the city is aesthetically perfect. Even chinatown smells good. For a city known for its urban sprawl it has an astounding array of nature reserves and parks all manicured to a tee. They've thought of everything, no joke. There is a massive food court in every mall. There is a giant mall to your immediate left, and right. Its like you don't go shopping, shopping comes to you. The outdoor parks have free outdoor elliptical machines. What? There is no traffic on roads because pedestrians cross on over and underpasses. You can't even delay train traffic if you wanted to jump on the tracks. They've encased the platform in a glass cage. There are no homeless people, unless they're hiding in a tree shrub on me, cus I've been looking. It's also the only country I've been in outside of Canada where such a diverse group of inhabitants live in evident respect and harmony. Perhaps I've only brushed the surface and there exist many layered complexities, as with any country. But I.am.impressed. especially after just arriving from the polar opposite nation in wealth, standard of living, and human rights.

On the topic of societal juxtaposition. My mind has been on overload the last while, looking back in retrospect on my time in Nepal. Several people have asked me for a takeaway, and truthfully I was looking for some peace and familiarity in surrounding to be able to place my perspective again. I wrote the first couple of days at Chetana Children's Center that I felt almost a guilt, a self-serving fulfillment, in being there. At night on my hard wooden crate, I dreamed of my warm bed in Canada, the laptop with wi-fi I craved. It was all mine. A few months and a cross-continental flight away. But I was sobered by the transient nature of the kids' experiences with volunteers. We come and go, but what are we REALLY doing for these kids? Are we really helping them or are we just buying goodwill with a two thousand dollar plane ticket? I suspected the latter, I wanted to 'make a difference', but it was the feeling of self-righteousness that I sought in the reflection of the apathetic western world. Some of you wrote that its better that some good is done than no good done at all, and I'd have to agree. But at the end of my stay, just as I suspected, I learned more from the kids than they ever learned from me.

I looked at them and knew that some would never see the world beyond the peaks of the Himalayas. They will be happy within the safety of what they know, but will never brave to leap beyond the progress of their nation. Change only happens with perspective and this doesn't doesn't come easy. My aim at the begining of this journey was to gain perspective, a vague goal, but one that left retrospective clarity open to interpretation. Nepal is a country strife with political and socio-economic problems that locals don't think will dissipate overnight. With a hierarchical caste-system and failing government, promise of reform is a change noone can belive in. I compare the lack of basic rights to life in Canada, where everyone regardless of creed or status in life has access to free education and indirectly, an opportunity at advancement. CCC, as it turns out, is not an orphanage in the strictest sense of the word. Ramji, Sabina's late husband wanted to create a center of opportunity for promising children. A secondary school principal himself, he was moved by the sight of a child labouring in a restaurant one night. He handpicked each of the current six children based on aptitude and poverty. I did notice on the first day how smart they all were.

I worry that Sabina will close the center, as she has often thought about after her husband's death. There are too many expenses and not enough money. I worry that the kids will have to forego university after they graduate CCC because their families can't afford it. I told them that I will do everything I can to be an enabler when the time comes. I realize that my comforts and familiarities are not rights, but gifts. That somehow, against the odds, I made it out of the millions to land in the lap of luxury while members of my own family live in poverty in rural China. What does this mean to me? Among many things, that opening one's eyes to the world through travel is not only a privilege but a duty. To live in blissful ignorance and sheltered comfort is sacreligious when there are those who can't afford to dream up a plane ticket, even if they get passed the first barrier of fantasizing basic human rights.

Travelling makes you realize how interconnected everything is. Nation to nation, nation to human, human to environment. I know most eyes are on the Gaza strip right now. As the Palestinian death toll tops 1000, you think of what tears apart this connection in our social fabric. Its fragility shows in racial tensions, blame games, bloodshed and impasse. Does Marius Grinius deserve criticism for our lone vote on the UN Human Rights council? Was it a decision of "sound judgement"? Based on the wording of the motion's language, maybe. Was it an act of "integrity"? It's harder to say. A ride-or-die friend emailed me two days ago with an epiphanous view of the business world today.

First day of business school
Prof: what does the number 50 billion mean to you now in this terrifying state that the world economy is in? You all read the news, what was 50 billion?
Me: err the worst ever opening guess on the Price is Right?
Prof: No, this is very serious given current economic blah blah blah don't make light of it blah blah Madoff scandal blahhhhh

I also managed to infuriate Sarah when I suggested it was mildly hilarious that Bank of America can fire 35 000 people, that's a fucking municipality of people, a village. She didn't see eye to eye with me...mostly because she is short I guess.

All in all, a lot of comparatively rich people lost money, not a real tragedy, it's not like everyone in Africa suddenly died from fucking Spanish Flu. That would be a tragedy, and semi-ironic. The only downside is it's hitting ppl below poverty lines in developing nations now.

Epiphany? I think so...cash moneys just ain't that important in the grand scheme of things. It's a poisonous mind set that business school implants.


That's some true mind-reading, NPC, ride-or-die, no-holds-barred insight right there. Mad props.

Anyway, this talk about our ignorance of the social fabric's fragility holds special interest to me in the context of art. I, along with the rest of the art world, have been obsessing over Chinese contemporary artists for a long time now. They have sprouted up post-repression style and blossomed to international acclaim. The beauty of these artists lies in that their subject matter is so fresh from recent liberation and social conscience weaves heavily throughout the canvas. One in particular that I've noticed is Deng Cheng Wen and his Blind Walking series, as seen below.



His work highlights ideas critical to understanding modern China. That urbanization and westernization is leading traditional culture down the path of destruction, and that the young generation is oblivious to the adverse effects of these detrimental changes. These pieces illustrate the paradoxical nature of China's socio-environment. The country maintains that progress is only possible if there is stability, and stability is achieved when there is limited dissent. However the collective mentality of people moving in the same direction can be negative and multiplies the effect of obliviousness the individual has to his surroundings, leading to the age-old idiom , "the blind leading the blind". The great thinkers of our time have said that our narrow vision can only be restored by removing our socio-cultural blinders, and it is up to this generation to do so.

See more of his work here:
http://www.hongart.net/?option=art&collectionid=27