Dongbei, the next episode - dog meat and bai jui

Ok so from Beiji cun, the next place I planned to go was Manzhouli. Like Beiji cun it's on the border with Russia but Manzhouli is in Inner Mongolia, and the railroad actually passes through into Russia there. Unfortunately there was no easy direct train so and I'm actualy still in transit. Here it is so far.

I took the bus back to Mohe county the next day and looked into getting to Manzhouli. It turns out the best way was to bus it south for the first leg to a place called Mangui, where there's a train that will go most of the way to Manzhouli stopping at a place called Hailar. I'd just missed the bus that day so I stayed another night in Mohe, paying for my own dinner for a change. I took it easy and stayed indoors because it ended up raining like crazy. I stayed in the same little room as last time, this time no roommate though. Still only $2.50. I love it.

The next day, I hopped the bus to Mangui. We started off on a paved road, then moved to a dirt one. At first I assumed we were taking a shortcut to the highway, but soon realized that this was the highway. For the Whitakers to compare, the road quality was about like the dirt roads up at the Ranch, but not so twisty. Three and a half hours later we'd arrived in Mangui, but not before I'd made my next friend. I swear, it's an endless stream of these people who think they need to take care of me. This guy is a little better though, we're still traveling together actually. I call him Lao Gao, Lao means old and Gao is his last name. Believe it or not, that's respectful over here. He's about 60 years old, wears glasses, dresses well and like many other Chinese always looks well groomed even though we're traveling. He's from southern China and I think that's why he's a little easier to stomach than my first roommate or the owner of the bus. He doesn't try to make all my decisions for me and he doesn't try to pay for everything, but he does worry about my safety and me getting ripped off for being a foreigner. He's said several times that I'm just a kid, and he needs to look out for me so my parents won't worry.

On the bus to Mangui we'd just happened to sit next to each other. He was also going to Hailar and told me that there was no train until the next morning. We agreed to find a place together in Mangui and split the cost. When we got there he did the looking for the room, and it's a good thing because I broke my record for cheapest lodging yet. 5 kuai for my half of the room, that's like $0.60. Ah, China.

Mangui is a town, bigger than the place I'd come from but still just a speck in the wilderness that is China's Dongbei. I'd say the population was about 10,000, on the same scale as an Ellensburg. The great majority of buildings were delapidated and paintless, resulting in a depressing grey cast to the neighborhood. However, the gardens which abound in all such places in China definitely livened things up with their vibrant greens and yellow sunflower patches sprinkled throughout.

Room booked, I took off to climb the hill with stairs to a pagoda I'd seen from the bus on the way in. It was good excercise and a nice veiw, but the stairs were concrete and the pagoda made of cheap metal plating. The paint was new and fairly bright but obviously would fade before long like many other cheaply built Chinese structures. I also found it ironic and symbolic that the pagoda was almost at the top of the hill, but not quite. The place of honor at the top where the stairs really terminated was the new tv broadcasting tower and accompanying buildings. China just isn't what it was a few thousand years ago.

Later I went to dinner by myself. I picked a little restaraunt randomly, one of many in town. After sitting down and ordering some stew, four guys at another table waved me over to talk. I sat down with them and soon they offered to treat me to dinner, as happens frequently around here. I protested, but as usual it was no use. I didn't realize what they were treating me to until they lifted a chunk of meat out of the pot boiling in the middle of the table (a common way to eat around here), set it on my plate, and said "Don't be polite! Eat!". Seeing the size of the ribs sticking out of the meat I suddenly had a bad feeling. It had been a joke with us Americans all semester. Dog meat! We'd see the signs around, have a chuckle, and avoid them like the plague. Literally, some restaraunts are named "Dog meat restaraunt". This place had a different name, but even before I asked I knew the answer. "Yeah it's dog. The best kind! very tasty! Eat up, our treat!". There's a first time for everything, and after all I'm in China so I shrugged and dug in. I wish I could say it was gross, but actually it was pretty flavorful, distinct from beef or pork but not in a disgusting way. I think they could sense my hesitation from the way I extended my lips fully and nibbled the meat, rather than robustly stuffing the entire rib in my mouth and sucking it clean.

"What's wrong? Don't like it?"

"Oh no, it's just that this is my first time eating dog..."

That's when I felt a warm furry body brush past my legs and saw man's best friend heading for the door. "So is he for dinner tomorrow?" I asked. "Oh no, he's too small." Indicated about 2 feet with his hands. "We eat the BIG ones!", fully extending his arms. This was greeted with a round of hearty laughter, which I joined after a second. The whole situation really was hilarious. "The little ones are just for fun," he continued. I got the picture. "So some are for fun...and some are for dinner?" I asked. "That's right!" he said, and another round of loud laughter. I had definitely learned something new from the people of Mangui. Some dogs are for fun, and some are for dinner.

Their laughter was defintely helped along by their alcohol consumption on the night. Four bottles of Bai jiu, "white alcohol", sat nearly empty on the table. Bai jiu is a staple in China, I'm told especially in the Dongbei area. I tried it once before at a bar, just half a shot or so. The stuff is absolutely ridiculous. I'm not calling myself an expert here, but I've had shots before, some good and some not so good. This stuff is terrible. When I tasted it the first time at the bar, the bartender told me that Dongbei people can drink a whole bottle or more at one sitting and I'd laughed in disbelief as I fought the urge to vomit from my sip. Here was my proof: Four Donbei people, four near empty bottles.

I told them this story, and they laughed and nodded. I'd already told them I wouldn't drink it, so they ordered beer for me (and them once they'd polished off their first bottles). The Chinese drink both bai jiu and beer out of small glasses, I'd say two and a half or three shots worth of liquid. I had my glass of beer, and they had theirs of bai jiu. I had yet to take a drink, so one raised his glass, half full of bai jui. "Gan bei!" he shouted, the order to finish what you've got in your cup. I watched in disbelief as he downed more than a shot of bai jui and slammed his glass down on the table. When I finished, I told him I was amazed by the Donbei abilities. He laughed and got a twinkle in his eye. He refilled my glass, and then filled his own with bai jui, this time to the brim. Again he raised it with a shout of "Gan bei!". My jaw dropped as the bai jui disappeared with one toss of his head. It's difficult to put down so much of any liquid in one lump. It takes me three good gulps to get a glass that size down. This time he had a slight reaction, shaking his head and squeezing a tear from one eye before smiling at me and laughing. at my raised eyebrows.

You'd think these guys were done drinking after all that. At least I did. Two of them had to leave, but two stayed with me as I ate and they continued to drink beer with me. I figured it would be one bottle and done, but oh no. Those two guys matched me glass for glass until I was fairly drunk too. When we were done I'd had about two and a half bottles, one Chinese bottle being two American size bottles. I'm a lightweight, but they don't mess around here.

When I went back to the room I was sharing with Lao Gao, he and the owner of the house were both worried about me even though it was only 8:30. They'd actually gone out looking for me, worried something had happened. We'd had no plans to meet at a particular time, they'd just been...worried. I reassured them with more smiling and shoulder patting than I would have a couple hours before, then fell asleep thinking I had more parents in China than I had since leaving for college. A new set every place I go! Every time it happens, I worry about some con artist doing it just to get me away from my money and passport, and I never really trust anyone until we part ways. So far so good. Ah, China.