I have just arrived at the Pessac campus of Bordeaux Montaigne University! Having studied French officially for six years and off and on since I was five or six, I am extremely happy to say that I am finally in France for the first time! I will be studying here for the entire semester, taking classes in French and staying in a dormitory. Pessac is a suburb of Bordeaux, which is located on the Garonne River in the southwest of France, near the Atlantic coast and not too far from Spain. I have had the excellent fortune not only of having a friend who has studied there previously and is full of helpful suggestions, but of going with one of my closest friends on campus.
Gare St. Jean, Bordeaux
My main goal is to improve my French. Having been so absorbed in Arabic since starting school here, I have had fewer opportunities to practice French than I would have liked. Since I will be using it in classes at the university and in daily life, I hope to make a lot of progress.
In addition to getting better at French, I am really looking forward to actually living in the country and learning about the culture. That’s one of my favorite things about travel: figuring out how another place works and learning about myself and who I am in the middle of the newness. Luckily, I’ve had quite a bit of practice these last few years. While I’m here, I hope to get involved in different activities, explore the city and beyond, and, of course, buy books.
Bordeaux is, unfortunately, not immune from people who find absolutely nothing wrong with harassment. Men, women, small children, dogs (not a joke), everyone seems to be a target in France. The perpetrators don’t have a singular look, as is true wherever you go in the world. It could be a drunken man on the street who decides to pick a fight with a college kid, or an angry older woman feeling the need to proselytize and inform you that you’re going to hell for wearing extensions. It could be a group of kids running around and kicking people’s dogs. And with such a wide array of perpetrators, it is almost inevitable that, in a given week, you’ll find yourself being harassed at least twice. I’m going to list the different encounters that I and my friends have had. While they will seem to be ranked from most to least severe, know that in the event of escalation any one of these could be dangerous. With that in mind, I would also like to add a warning right here that there will, unfortunately, be mentions of sexual assault.
Bordeaux has a large homeless population. As such, you will definitely see a few homeless people around town when you go pretty much anywhere. They may or may not ask you for money. I’ve known many people who have done so with no problems, and I know one who, in the process of doing so, was mugged. Most people in Bordeaux, sadly, tend to just ignore their presence altogether.
People may attempt to sell you drugs or, in some cases, attempt to buy drugs from you. I, as well as many others my age, encountered many people attempting to sell us various drugs, usually outside of bars and nightclubs at night. I’ve never known anyone to actually buy them. Most likely, whatever they’re trying to sell you is illegal in France. It could also potentially be deadly or dangerous. Do not, under any circumstances, buy anything from these people. Also, as I mentioned, some younger folks tend to assume that people of Arab or African descent have drugs on them. I, as well as the majority of my friends who are black or Arab, have definitely had people come up to me and ask me if I sell weed.
As I mentioned earlier, you may encounter a drunk person while walking around or on the tram, especially on the weekends. These people, if vexed, may begin to scream or yell profanities at pretty much everyone. If this happens on the tram, it is ignored by most. However, in some cases, they might become violent and may target certain people depending on who this person is. Racism, sexism, and homophobia still exist in Bordeaux, as they do around the world, and I witnessed the aftermath of a hate crime when two of our French friends came to my friend’s home with bloodied noses and black eyes, saying that they got jumped by two drunk men after leaving one of the gay bars downtown. What shocked me the most about this situation, though, was that they weren’t surprised, as this wasn’t the first time this has happened.
All of my points after this one will be about sexual harassment. I want to put this here in its own note just in case anyone reading this may not be comfortable or able to read about this.
I have yet to meet a woman in Bordeaux that has not been sexually harassed at least once in this city, and I truly do not believe that I personally have ever encountered the frequency or the level of sexual harassment that I experienced in Bordeaux. I wish I was joking when I say that it was a daily occurrence. And, these incidents range from gross words made in passing to uncomfortable staring to actual stalking.
Getting on the tram and staying on until you reach the city center will almost inevitably result in you getting stared down by a creepy old man. This seems to be a widespread occurrence among the young women I spoke to about this.
Men in the city center may say something lewd in passing, give you a prolonged stare, or follow you to try to get your attention. This also seems to be a widespread occurrence, especially in the city center and, more worryingly, especially at night.
Be very wary of men at nightclubs. They may actually attempt to put their hands on you. In the event that you start feeling uncomfortable or that you’re being watched by someone, go to the bartenders or the bouncers at the bar/nightclub and tell them immediately. That person will then be watched by the staff and most likely escorted out if they attempt anything else or make anyone else feel uncomfortable.
Going to nightclubs in a group is necessary. Do not go alone.
There were two times during my time in Bordeaux that I got stalked by men. I’m not going to sugarcoat this or make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. Both times I was followed off the tram and followed down streets. Both times I noticed what was happening and quickly went into a nearby store and told the employees what was happening. This is something that you need to be aware of. I’m not the only one that this happened to.
These posts are not going to be me just bashing everything about France. I promise. However, I would be remiss in not talking about the negative aspects of my time in France. It’s great to talk about how great the experience was, or how insightful the study abroad experience was, or how I’ve become much more independent (and those things did happen! And I appreciate them a lot!), but I feel like oftentimes when speaking of study abroad experiences people tend to add in negatives almost as a side-note. Therefore, I feel the need to talk about negatives so that anyone studying abroad, in Bordeaux or otherwise, knows that things might not go well, and that that’s okay, too. You can still turn these negative experiences into a teaching tool of some sort. Going through that bureaucratic nightmare for four months, for example, taught me how to navigate it, and now I find myself helping others navigate through these difficult channels that are sometimes filled with equally difficult people. And my experience with food in Bordeaux, which was vastly different from what I expected it to be and definitely different from what I remember it being when I came to France during the summer, taught me some pretty valuable lessons about cuisine in general and about French culture regarding food. So, now that I’ve gotten that blurb out of the way, here’s how things went down:
Like most do whenever they travel to a different country, I hemorrhaged money on restaurants and street food. I don’t think I cooked in January once, despite having a communal kitchen not even 4 yards away from my doorstep. As one of the most popular tourist destinations in France, Bordeaux had more restaurants on any given street than there were stores. You could have a Belgian waffle for breakfast and then follow up with a baguette sandwich from Paul for lunch, and then dinner could be Italian food or Indian food or even Korean food. Rinse, wash, and repeat, adding Burger King whenever you felt a little bit homesick. However, like I said, a lifestyle like that leads to an empty wallet, and I was no Bill Gates. I also started to realize that the tap water was absolutely disgusting. I was told to just buy bottle water, because no one drinks from the tap here. Near the end of this month, I also started to take note of the eating habits of people around me, but not in any serious way. I also get food poisoning from a kebab restaurant in January, which was swell.
I was introduced to French Walmart by, strangely, a childhood friend of a friend I met here in the United States who just happened to be from Bordeaux. We met before we realized this coincidence. The world is small. Anyways, this place had the exact same structure as a Walmart, with clothes, furniture, and cleaning supplies in one section, electronics and books in another, and food in yet another. Instead of being spread out in a wide store, however, these sections were divided into floors. I quickly bought as many junk foods as humanly possible, as well as some fruits and vegetables, some pasta, and also some chicken. I also bought an obscene amount of dairy. I started replacing some of my restaurant outings with meals at this point. No one around me seemed to want to go anywhere for breakfast, so those became almost exclusively a home-meal. I also bought a water filter, because I felt bad constantly throwing out water bottles. My first lunch that I cooked was pasta with meat sauce and chicken. The chicken tasted terrible. In fact, I realized that I hadn’t been a big fan of any of the meat I had eaten in the past two months, and had, at best, tolerated it. At worst, and this happened often, the restaurant meat upset my stomach quite a bit. At the absolute worst, after frequenting yet another kebab restaurant, my friend threw up and I began to have strange stomach pains. Three weeks after this incident, my friend dragged me to the doctor, stating that I looked pale as a ghost. My stomach pains had gotten worse, but I chalked it up to being lactose intolerant and eating too much dairy. Boy, was I wrong. E. Coli. I got E. Coli and I had it for about three weeks.
E. Coli. From a kebab. Pair that with the fact that I already wasn’t a fan of the meat in France and you’ve got the whole reason I became a vegetarian. I started cooking my breakfast and my dinner at home and picking up a small sandwich for lunch, usually. This was in part due to the fact that I knew that if I cooked it, it would be thoroughly cooked, and also due to the fact that I started to get into the same rhythm as my French friends when it came to hanging out and going out. Most would eat a small breakfast, go somewhere for a large lunch or make a large lunch, and then almost exclusively have dinner at home, meeting up later to go out. This schedule was almost never broken, so I found myself simply doing the same. I also started to get more creative with what I made at home, buying a crock-pot and starting to experiment with different soups and broths.
During my last month in Bordeaux, I found myself actually enjoying this newfound routine. It was easy to just get up and have some fruit for breakfast, eat a large sandwich for lunch, and then a small bowl of pasta or maybe more fruit for dinner. I also started to realize that I had a lot more money saved for this month than I did around the same time last month, and definitely the months prior. I realized this was because I spent no more than $25 on groceries every two weeks. Pasta, sauce, fruit, veggies, and dairy are quite a cheap shopping list, actually. I hadn’t gone anywhere near the meat since the E. Coli incident, save for an Italian restaurant where my friends assured me that the meat was imported from Italy and not a French product.
One of the many interesting aspects of French culture that I still, to this day, cannot wrap my head around is the strange bureaucratic system that, at times, really seemed to be attacking me personally. Even before I made it to Bordeaux, there were little nuances that seemed a bit…off. For example, I had to mail my application to France, after I had already submitted it online. This required me to go the CVS not once, but twice for two sets of four separate photos of myself that I then literally had to glue onto a small square designated on each document that I needed to mail. I found this particularly strange because I then had to take the exact same documents online and attach a picture of myself to those as well. I didn’t really understand why I would need to do this twice. But I digress.
Once I actually entered the country is when the real bureaucratic nightmare began, though. I went to the main office of the university, as my arrival email informed me to do. When I got there, I filled out a lot of paperwork that I still haven’t ever seen since then, and then got two sheets: one with eight stamps on it that was my official enrollment form and one that I was to take directly to the housing office. I also had to pay a $260 mandatory insurance fee that was non-waivable, even with my international insurance card literally in my hand. I never received my insurance card, by the way, for reasons I will explain later. I then went directly to the campus housing office only to be told, aggressively might I add, that in addition to these two forms, I also needed my birth certificate to obtain my room key. This was never brought up once in any of the housing forms I received. Not once. When I asked them if I could just use a copy, I was sternly told no. However, another student from OU who filled out the exact same forms as me was able to secure his room key despite also not having a physical copy of his birth certificate. It then took me three days extra to convince them to give me my key, and I spent those three days, luckily, sleeping inside the other student’s apartment.
Now, I was certain that that was the pinnacle of the bureaucratic nonsense that I would encounter in France. “Nothing could top that nightmare,” I thought. I was so naiive. So incredibly and awfully naiive. Let me tell you about the mail. So, the French seem to love sending things through the post, which is incredibly different from how I’m used to things being sent in the United States. Sure, things like credit cards and important legal documents tend to come in the mail, but this was the first time that I found myself literally signing a document, watching someone make another physical copy of that document, and then inform me that I would get the exact same document in the mail in about two weeks. Now, this doesn’t sound like much of an inconvenience, and honestly at this point I was just happy to have an actual apartment with a mailbox at all, but it turns out that things that get returned to sender tend to get lost. How, pray tell, did I find that out? Well, it turns out that I have to physically take a piece of paper with my name on it and stick said paper onto my mailbox, otherwise everything I get mailed gets returned to the sender. Like, for example, an insurance card. Now, I wasn’t told about this particular issue for about three months. Which means, for three months, I did not have mail. At all. Thinking about what important documents I potentially missed during this period causes me literal physical pain, so I don’t. But it’s safe to say that I probably lost one or two.
The bank was another mess. In addition to the aforementioned document madness (I got a binder of about 100 pages of things that I needed to keep), banks in France also don’t have a mobile banking app, which meant that checking my balance while I was on the go meant either going to the bank or going to the extremely mobile-unfriendly website. A small complaint, sure, but it’s the little things that make it so awful. Need to walk into the bank to deposit money? Nope, you accidentally came by during lunch time, which was marketing as being from 12pm to 2pm but was most definitely from 11:30pm to about 3:15pm. Want an actual username for your online banking account? Sorry, you have to use the 16-character alphanumerical code that we only hand you ONCE in physical copy form. Lost that? Well, guess you’ll have to wait for us to mail you a new one. In 8 to 12 business days.
I don’t know if the process of getting a French phone was actually easier than the other tasks or if I was just dull to it all by that point, but it didn’t seem terrible. There were still 50 pages of documents I had to sign and then take home with me, but the rest was pretty straightforward. I was slightly miffed that I had to pay full-price for a phone, but now I have an unlocked phone that I can easily switch SIM cards out of depending on where I am, so that’s nice. Honestly, the worst offender in this situation was the United States for regionally locking phones and allowing companies to literally not allow any SIM that’s not their SIM to work at all. The entire phone becomes blocked, too, not just the mobile capabilities.
There are probably loads more examples of this messy bureaucratic system. The fact that you can’t actually rent without having a co-signer with a French bank account, for example, or the fact that you should always carry no less than 2 pictures of yourself in case you need them for official documents. But the gist of this post is that if you come to France, bring some pens because you’ll be doing a LOT of paperwork.
Sooo I returned from my semester abroad in South Africa a couple weeks ago. I meant to announce I was going in July before I left, but I didn’t. Sorry to let you in on the big news after the fact.
To make it up to you, I planned a series of eight posts. I’ll start with a couple about my life there, then move on to some photo essays about my travels, and end with a bit of South Africa’s history.
I’m doing this in part because it’s a requirement for Global Engagement Fellows (let’s be honest with each other), but I also want to share my experiences in the hopes they inspire others to study abroad in South Africa. I was the first from OU to go there in years, and when I was researching the program, information was not easy to find. I want others to know how awesome South Africa is and to be a resource for those who are interested.
If you’re at all curious, check back in the upcoming days, and if you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment below. I’ll answer as soon as I can one way or another.
In the meantime, I leave you with these and, hopefully, anticipation.
戈爱玛 (Ge Aima), that’s me! I thought you all might be interested to see what a typical day in Beijing looked like for me.
Peking University (PKU) is in Beijing’s university district (Haidian), in the northwest part of the city. I was about an hour-long bus ride from the Forbidden City, which is at the heart of Beijing. Despite the distance from many things, it’s actually very accessible with both a bus stop and a subway station right outside the east gate. Being a little farther from the center of town allows PKU’s campus to be larger than most. In addition, because it’s the most highly-ranked university in China, it’s a tourist attraction and gets a lot of money from the government for beautification. The main reason I chose PKU was, in fact, because I heard it had a gorgeous campus.
I lived in an international student dorm just outside Peking University’s southeast gate. I was on the eleventh floor (out of twelve) and, although I had a double room, I had no roommate. Somehow, in the four months I lived there, I forgot to get a single picture, so you’ll have to take my word for it – the room was massive. Probably four times the size of my freshman dorm room in Oklahoma. The best part about it was the view. One entire wall of the room was a floor-to-ceiling window. My window faced south, towards 中关村(Zhongguancun), known as China’s Silicon Valley. At night, it would light up, and it was like I was living two blocks from Times Square. It was hard to get out of bed in the mornings because it was so peaceful to just lie there and look out at the city.
Most days, my first class was at 10:10. I would wake up at 9:00 and look out the window to see if I needed a mask or not. Most days, it was pretty obvious I did.
I would leave for class around 9:45. On the way, I would stop at a street food cart just outside my dorm for breakfast – 煎饼(jianbing)。Before my eyes, Jianbing Man (as we international students affectionately called him) would create a breakfast masterpiece in just 30 seconds from wheat batter, egg, green onions, and some mystery ingredients. It cost USD $1, and it is one of my top 3 foods from China.
To get to campus, I had to cross a pedestrian bridge. Besides the two flights of stairs (which got progressively harder as the smog worked away at my lungs), I really enjoyed this part of my commute. At the top of the bridge, I could see a lot of the city and the campus. It made me feel like such a big-city girl.
The walk to my classroom building only took about 10 minutes total. Most days, I had just two classes – reading, and then either speaking or vocabulary. They lasted two hours each. I really loved my classes, my professors, and most of all my classmates. The 13 of us represented 8 different countries: United States, Australia, South Korea, Japan, Spain, Russia, the Philippines, and Brunei. My closest friend in the class was Carlota, from Spain, in the blue dress next to me in the photo below.
In between the two classes we had an hour-long break for lunch. PKU’s biggest and best canteen, Nonyuan, was also the closest one to my classroom building, so that’s where I normally went. This is what one of my typical lunches looked like: baked chicken, fried rice, a fried egg, steamed Chinese cabbage, and an Asian pear. Oftentimes I would also get milk tea or red bean sesame cookies for something sweet. All of this cost me less than USD $2! And it was, obviously, delicious.
Twice a week I would go to the fruit store after my classes. This is one of the parts of my daily life I miss most. Walking into the fruit store, my senses were immediately overwhelmed with the sweetest aromas of fifty different kinds of fruit, half of which I had never seen before. The store wasn’t very large, but they packed a lot of goodness in such a small place. I would always get enough pears for the next few days, since I had at least one every day. The pears in China are like an American pear and apple combined – sweet, unbelievably crisp, juicy – you could never go wrong with a pear. In addition to pears, I would usually also get some fruit to snack on, like kumquats or grapes.
After the fruit store, I would get started on my homework. Sometimes I would work on campus with friends, other times I would head back to my room to introvert and get stuff done. I always looked forward to dinner, though – another opportunity to have more of China’s amazing food. On the right is another of my top 3 dishes from China, 涮羊肉. Its English name, instant-boiled mutton, doesn’t do it justice. The cook drops thinly sliced lamb into a massive vat of boiling water for a few minutes, then scoops it into a bowl with some noodles and Chinese cabbage. Ladle some sesame sauce on top and sprinkle some Sichuan pepper if you dare, and you’re good to go! It was so incredibly savory and satisfying. The watermelon was a very nice spring and summer treat, too. This meal was also only USD $2.
After dinner I would usually work some more and often Skype my family or friends, drinking lots of tea all the while. Towards the end of the night I would have dessert: lychee nuts. If you haven’t had them before, they taste like a combination of a plum and a grape. You have to peel that spiky shell to get to the slippery fruit inside, but that’s just part of the experience. I also miss having lychee every night.
That’s what a day looked like for me! When I think about China, the things I miss most are the things in this post: the food, the friends, and the habits that made up my days there. It was a good life.
In April, Nate and I traveled again with CET. This time, we went south to the famous city of Xi’an, resting place of China’s first emperor Qin Shi Huang and his thousands of terra cotta soldier statues. After a 10-hour bus ride (we drove through the night on this trip), we rolled up to one of the world’s biggest tourist attractions. It was a Chinese national holiday so not only were lots of foreign tourists there, all the Chinese tourists were too. There’s an expression in Chinese, “人山人海”, that literally translates to “people mountain, people sea”. This phrase could be used to describe both the tightly-packed rows of earthen warriors and the seething masses of people who mobbed them.
The terra cotta soldiers were very cool. We first went through an exhibit that presented some history, which then opened up into three massive excavation pits that contained the soldiers. My favorite part was actually getting to see the excavation in progress. In two of the pits, there were ladders, tarps, and tools laid out among the bodies. The soldiers themselves weren’t finished – apparently it takes longer than 40 years to rebuild a 9,000-piece relic that was first built in the third century BCE.
After we were done with the Terra Cotta Army, we went to Xi’an’s most famous street food market for dinner. The food there was mainly in the style of the Uyghur, a Chinese people group in the country’s northwest that has been largely influenced by Middle Eastern culture. The best dish I tried there was a spiced roasted lamb skewer, a street food delicacy I got to enjoy several times while in China. Nate and I also bought massive cotton candy spools for $5 each. It was luxury in excess.
The next day we tested the limits of the human body. Mount Hua is one of China’s most famous mountains, and parts of it make it one of the most dangerous hikes in the world. (Don’t worry, we didn’t do those parts. We didn’t have time.) Hiking the mountain means ascending a neverending series of staircases carved into the mountain itself. There are 5 peaks on the mountain, and we made it to two of them. It took 9 hours. Up.
Somehow, the view and the experience were worth the extreme physical pain we were all in by the time we reached the summit. China’s dramatically jagged mountains rose around us in green and yellow.
Thankfully, we got to take a cable car down so we didn’t have to try to not fall down the mountain as we went down the stairs in our weakened state. Although the rapid descent through the mountains we had just climbed did make me question the merit of ascending the mountain on foot, the experience of flying through China’s mountains in a glass box was truly breathtaking.
By the time we made it back the bus, my legs were shaking so bad I could barely stand for lack of balance. Sleep was such a relief that night.
We got up super early the next day to drive back. I managed to stay awake most of the ride, and I was pleasantly surprised that the scenery on the daytime ride back was more diverse and beautiful than I had realized. I got to see mountains, plateaus, terraced rice fields, farms, and other manifestations of the landscape that must be unique to China. It was like driving through the China section of a world history textbook.
That was my last out-of-town trip while I was staying in Beijing, and was it ever a good one.
First, a word of advice: if you ever go to Beijing, you need to get hooked up with a group called Culture Exchange Trips (CET). This student-led group organizes trips across China for internationals and Chinese students, and they are amazing. I met some really wonderful people, went to some truly incredible places, and did it all for extremely cheap.
On our first major trip with CET, Nate and I went to Inner Mongolia (内蒙古). Quick briefer on Inner Mongolia: it is, in fact, a part of China, not Mongolia. China kept it when the rest of Mongolia gained independence from China in the early 20th century. Now, the culture of the region – food, language, traditions, etc. – is a mixture of Chinese and Mongolian cultures.
When you’re traveling abroad, hardcore travel is the only way to go. All the CET participants met up at 5 a.m. for the 8-hour bus ride to Inner Mongolia. The bus ride was long and bumpy, which made sleeping difficult. The get-to-know-you activities our group leaders (Amy and Marwan) started also made it difficult to sleep, but that wasn’t as much of a problem because Amy and Marwan were AWESOME. They really made this trip as memorable as it was (in a good way).
When we arrived in China’s northernmost province, we had a family-style lunch (about 10 Inner Mongolian dishes and a massive bowl of rice shared among 10 people at a table) and then headed out to the grasslands for horseriding.
Here’s how it works: You slap a blanket on top of a horse. You slap a tourist on top of the blanket. And then you slap the horse, and the tourist holds on for dear life as she bounces off across the Inner Mongolian prairie.
It was a lot of fun. Halfway through, we stopped at a tent in the middle of the grasslands for milk tea and some traditional Inner Mongolian milk candy before riding back to the main corral.
The next day, the whole group along with Nate, Tuscany, and I headed out to the Gobi Desert. On the bus ride, we got to see the Yellow River – China’s cradle of civilization! Known as “China’s Sorrow”, China historically has a love-hate relationship with this river: its frequent flooding is devastating, but is also the only thing that makes northern China farmable.
From the very touristy desert welcome center, we took a dune buggy into the heart of the desert. Truthfully, this was also rather touristy – it was set up like a county fair. But even the commercialization of a few dunes didn’t detract much from the unique beauty of the desert – just blue sky and yellow sand in all directions.
The sand was surprisingly soft. We walked around for a little bit, took a ride on a dune motorcycle, and finally made our way to the camels.
Out of all the forms of transportation I had experienced in the past few hours – horseback, bus, dune buggy, sand motorcycle – I would pick camel any day of the week. It was like sitting on a really soft, furry beanbag chair with a beanbag backrest. My camel was friendly to me, and the ride wasn’t bumpy at all as it plodded across the sand on its wide hooves. I’m pretty sure I could have slept on that camel’s back.
The next day was our last in Inner Mongolia. We went to the Museum of Inner Mongolia, home of the largest collection of dinosaur skeletons and fossils in Asia. Nate and I got this picture next to the most impressive one – it was really quite colossal. There were also a lot of really interesting exhibits on Inner Mongolian history and culture.
After that, we went to another museum, this one more focused on the art of Inner Mongolia.
Attached to the museum was a massive mall-like emporium of extremely expensive Inner Mongolian handicrafts. It was actually rather unsettling – it was a veritable labyrinth of a place, very well-staffed by identically dressed salespeople, and the members of our group were the only people there. Still, the merchandise was very cool – like this wall of swords. Nearly everything cost more than I’m worth, but I did buy several small knives that were on sale for only USD $1 each!
And that was it. After another 8-hour bus ride back, we arrived home just in time for bed. Next up: Nate and I travel south!
March 19, two months after we had arrived in Beijing, was Nate’s birthday. We took the opportunity to explore the city a little bit and do some things on our Beijing Bucket List.
I knew that starting the day with waffles, even in Beijing, was a prerequisite for a good birthday. So we took the bus to the hippest coffee spot in Beijing – Maan Coffee: Waffle and Toast. Even the name, although magnificent, couldn’t do justice to the two-storied, rustic, delectable food paradise that it adorned. Seriously, though – I have never had better waffles than these. In my life. I would fly back to China just to have these once more.
After waffles, we went to an international church we were trying out. We didn’t end up settling there, but it was nice to have a place to worship with other Christians again.
For lunch, we went to the cool part of Beijing – Sanlitun, where the parties go down. For us, the part was authentic Italian pizza – pricey, in China, but worth it since it was the first good Western food we’d had in 2 months.
Next stop, Beijing Zoo! We spent a long time at the Giant Panda exhibit – we connected on a deep emotional level with this fuzzy beast that pretty much just wanted to lie on its back and eat food without moving its head.
As it was quite late in the day, a lot of the exhibits were already closed. The upside of this was that, for a Beijing public attraction, the zoo really wasn’t that crowded.
The zoo also had some really incredible birds.
For dinner we went to a hutong, which is a narrow street that is historically filled with shops and restaurants. They still are, but now they’re more touristy and less quaint and traditional. We found a Peking Duck place and enjoyed Beijing’s most famous dish!
Finally, we went to a European restaurant called M for dessert. Little did I know when I looked it up online that it would be the fanciest restaurant I had ever been in. Because most of the desserts on the menu were upwards of USD $20, Nate and I split this tiny lemon pudding. It was very tasty, but we vowed never to return there until we’re rich.
We got to see so many different pieces of Beijing that day, and eat a lot of good food. On a related note, if anyone wants to fly me to Beijing to get Maan waffles for my birthday next year, you know I’m down.