Rock Your Tongue: Xi’an Part 1

I know, I know, just like the master jerkface himself (Roger Clemens) I’ve done the exact thing I swore I would never do: neglect my blog. I’m blaming it on my job. Since I spend most of the day staring at a computer screen, the last thing I want to do when I get home is stare at one some more. Granted, I still wind up doing it, so maybe a better statement would be that I don’t want to have to stare at a computer screen and think at the same time.

Rather than following in the Rocket’s footsteps* and blaming my unlucky trainer for everything, I can atone for my sins. Although I’m guessing that a weekly update is probably the best I’m going to be able to pull off from here on out, this new update is really juicy. It has espionage, death-defying, communist propaganda… oh, and ox tongues.

Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves here though. I’ll start by backtracking almost a week to last Thursday night. Following our morning teaching the English club (motto: Rock Your Tongue) how to act like degenerate American college kids, our eager students invited us to come to their weekly meeting to help them practice their English more. It sounded like fun, plus they’d bought us a bunch of beer; we gladly accepted. I really like the members of the English club, they remind me of the “bright young go-getters of ‘Hooray for Everything’” featured during the Super Bowl Halftime Show on The Simpsons. They wanted to know our opinions on everything, especially about the “imponderabilia of daily American life” (see, I took an anthropology class last semester, Rochester’s financial aid dollars at work). The most interesting aspect of the meeting though wasn’t the conversation though, so much as the poster on the wall describing a past week’s discussion topic: US values (“Everyone is born free and equal, every vote counts”) versus Chinese values (“Majority rules. The minority has to go along with the majority.”)** Every now and then we get a reminder that, in China, the Chairman and his party are watching…this was one of those times.

The next day, we brought a little more American culture to the orient by skipping out of work early on a Friday. Here’s where the espionage comes in. We’d made plans to fly to the old capital of Xi’an in central China for the weekend. Problem was, any travel outside Dalian is forbidden by the program, so we had to make our visit on the sly. Don’t worry though, my bosses don’t know about this blog. Even if they did though, it wouldn’t matter; Mao still won’t let them read it.

Following our escape from the cube farm and into some nearby taxis, we soon boarded our plane. However, at numerous points throughout the flight, it was unclear if we would be exiting the plane when it was actually on the ground. I have NEVER been on a flight where people literally screamed as the plane just dropped (more than once!). At the time, I was sitting next to my friend Barry who has some piloting experience and informed me that for “turbulence” to feel like that on a plane that size, we probably just fell several hundred feet. Thanks Barry. The funniest part of this whole thing was the preflight video explaining what position to assume should the plane actually crash. Normal people should brace themselves on the seat in front of them, those in exit rows should bend over and hug their legs, but, according to the film, “fat people” should just grip the hell out of the armrest and pray. Watching the onscreen stewardess act this out almost made up for the terrible “fright” (say it out loud and then think about where I’m writing this from).

Once we’d landed (and kissed the ground, enthralled to be standing, once again, on it), we dropped our stuff at the hotel and hit the town. As China’s ancient capital, Xi’an has about as much history as you’d expect it to. Unfortunately, one weekend is not enough to cover 1000+ years, so we had to prioritize. As such, we spent most of Friday night wandering around the Islamic Quarter, one of the first places in China where we’ve seen substantial expression of any major religion (according to Marx and Mao, “the opiate of the masses). It was also the first real chance for us to test our bargaining skills with the hundreds of locals each selling the basically same set of touristy tchatchkeys. I knew I needed to pick one up, so I pit two vendors against each other over a copy of Mao’s (in)famous “Little Red Book”. One offered it to me for about ten bucks, I got the other to hand it over for two. I think I like this town.

We’d shopped up an appetite, so we hit one of the restaurants in the area that looked like it had the two characteristics we wanted in a Muslim Quarter eatery, 1.) Lamb, and 2.) a menu with pictures. We leafed through it for a while and ordered a three of what turned out to be mediocre attempts at food (including really gross gamey lamb). Thankfully though, Pedro and I had talked the others into going out on a limb and ordering a plate of ox tongue. To all those who are contemplating eating bovine mouth muscle products let me say this: get over how it looks, shut up, and eat it. It is up there with the best pot roast you can get anywhere. Seriously. I will now be checking the Wegman’s butcher counter for my new favorite cut of meat.

Full and happy on a variety meat high, we headed back to the hotel for a much needed break before the next day’s adventure to one of the most famous archaeological sights in China, or, for that matter, the world. Next time: Xi’an, the stunning conclusion.



*Or, if you will, those of Manny “I injected myself with those fertility drugs because I just wanted to be like that pregnant man who was popular for two weeks a year ago” Ramirez.

**These are direct quotes, I am not making these up.