Amish Cooking

I actually saw another runner on Tuesday, in Xidan, one of the busiest areas of Beijing. This is a part of the city that has been thoroughly transformed by Beijing’s rapid development—it lies just a little bit west of Tiananmen Square, right on Chang’an Avenue (the Avenue of Eternal Peace). Xidan is now full of department stores and a hip underground shopping mall populated by teenagers wearing unrecognizable yet apparently very fashionable things. It also features at least two Starbucks within 100 yards of each other, a fact that both pleases and horrifies me (if you ask nicely, I can give you my classtime-perfected riff on how Starbucks epitomizes both the joys and horrors of globalization all in one venti nonfat double shot caramel macchiato, not that this is a particularly original observation).

It was a very nice, clear day, and so seeing another runner was inspiring and somewhat shocking. Of course, this runner was a laowai, and this enabled me to perhaps see myself through the eyes of Chinese observers as I am running on the streets here (something that has occurred rather seldom so far, due to the proximity and anonymity provided by the King Gym). This male laowai runner was wearing knee-length running tights, with an emphasis on the tight, if you know what I mean. My first thought, before I really processed the whole scene, was “What kind of nut goes running in Xidan in midday, in that sort of get-up?” And then of course I reflected on my own thinking, and realized that I probably look as absurd to Chinese observers when I am out running. I’d like to think that my choice of running apparel is never quite so outré, but then again, I’ve seen Chinese running in their street clothes (not the ones running for the bus, but actually out exercising in the parks) and even their street shoes, so perhaps any of our Western, consumerist, “I need special gear for whatever activity I’m doing” attitudes seem strange and perhaps somewhat langfei here (our word of the day—it means “wasteful”).

Speaking of joys and horrors of globalization, one of my favorite sights in all of Japan, land of Mount Fuji (briefly glimpsed from a train window), wonderful gardens (I think I drove Kelly nuts in search of Japanese gardens because of my fascination with them and my actual desire and emerging scheme to put one in our backyard), Zen temples, and hypermodern urban landscapes, was actually this one:


Kelly in Kamakura












We stopped to take some pictures because I was just so amused by it and the owner came out. He told Kelly that he’s been to Amish country in the U.S. before and really appreciated the spirit of the Amish. He said he uses real Amish recipes, but we opted not to stop to try them.

Here is a more zhenzheng Japanese image. Here we are, being very Japanese, simultaneously at a Shinto Shrine and admiring flowers (possibly cherry blossoms, but I don’t think so). In Japan, they love the cherry blossoms. In fact, they have “cherry blossom reports” on the TV news, cherry blossom viewing parties, and you are even supposed to accessorize your home with a cherry blossom motif, but only while they are in season. They even come out with cherry flavor Kit-Kat bars, but again, only in season!