20th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre

Today marks 20 years since a peaceful protest turned into a slaughter
in Beijing.

Recently, China has blocked more sites from being accessed from within
the mainland, including a lot of MSN sites, Twitter, and the stuff
I've complained about before.

Yesterday, I arrived to work to find no internet available in the
office. I'd also left my phone at home, so was feeling weirdly cut off
from the world. Under the pretense of making sure my mum could call me
(she and my aunt are in town this week, which is great), I went home
to pick up my mobile. Not being able to check my email is scary.

The lack of internet continues today. I wonder if they've cut off
business service, or if I'm just being paranoid.

As I type this out on my phone so I can email it in to auto-post, I'd
just like for us to dwell on how much has changed in China in 20
years, and how much has sadly stayed the same.

Xiao Long Bao, tofu, and other important matters

I went out for dinner with some friends the other night, to a restaurant that specialises in xiao long bao, traditional Shanghai steamed soup dumplings. They were fairly delicious, as were the other dishes we had alongside. The first plate of vegetarian noodles we ordered had beef hiding in it, but that was just a kitchen mix-up. In any case, I'm not a vegetarian. The sheer number of delicious forms of pork I would miss out on counted me out of the vege population years ago. I think it was the influence of Chinese food from a very young age.

One of the people at dinner had grown up in Hong Kong enjoying chou doufu (臭豆腐), which translates to 'stinky tofu' in English. It's a fermented tofu that has a particularly pungent…aroma, even though it looks like regular fried tofu. I'm familiar with the smell (I lived in Hong Kong for a while, where it's a popular street snack), but I never really wanted to try it. However, since it appeared on our table, I thought I'd give it a go. It wasn't actually as bad as I thought it would be, and I suppose the effect can be compared to the taste of the very strong-smelling cheeses. Not everyone likes those, either (although I do).

Not long after, I sent my dad a text message to tell him that not only did I buy a mahjong set and matching table (more on that later), but that I'd tried the good old stinky tofu. His reply? Even he hasn't tried chou doufu, and I am 'more Chinese than Dad now'. It makes me giggle, but at the time I had that sinking feeling you get when, fully-costumed, you realise that no, it's not actually a fancy-dress party.

On the topic of tofu, the son of a friend of a contact of my mother (one of those multi-step relationships that seems to occur quite often through my mother) has started writing Tofu Watch, a blog dedicated entirely (well, mostly) to the wonder that is bean curd. It has a catchy name, interesting subject matter, and the website design pleases me too. I can even look at it from China. Nice work so far, Brad.

An unsanctioned love letter to China

Dear China,

Whilst I love you (I know this is never a good way to start a missive), I am getting quite tired of seeing great big blanks all over the internet. You may think that people don't notice that there are an awful lot of white spaces, response timeouts, and no network errors. Maybe you think Chinese people think the internet breaks down all the time, and with the speed that mine works at sometimes, I wouldn't blame you for making this assumption.

Sure, a lot of people think that what they're being shielded from is probably hidden from them for some reason, but I really don't think there's anything anti-establishment about wrecky cakes or lowercase L's. I can't well read these blogs without seeing the pictures that they're talking about. Now not only can I not see WordPress blogs, I can't see Blogger ones, either. I can't even read my own blog, or write in it from the main site. It makes me sad, China.

I was okay with not seeing YouTube, for the most part. A lot of the links I get I wouldn't want to watch anyway. But, in the midst of the swiney swiney pig flu, shouldn't people be able to see things like this? It would cheer them up, and really make them believe that there was no porcine danger.

When the weather starts to get hotter, do you think you could let us have some fluffy, harmless internet entertainment while the AC is running? I might even look at something educational.

I know that maybe we don't know each other well enough yet for me to use the c-word, but ... do you think you could ease up on the censorship a little bit? It was even kind of fun when it was sporadic. I never knew whether things would work or not. Now I've just given up trying. Just a little hope, is all I'm asking for.

Thanks, China.
Your adopted resident,
Starla

It happens everywhere in Asia

I just got back from a trip to Seoul to visit a friend of mine. 

Everyone expected me to speak Korean, even though I'm convinced they should've been able to tell I wasn't Korean from the comparatively little effort I put into dressing myself.

I again came up against the weird Asian language triangle when I was out with my caucasian friends.  My friend speaks Korean to the Korean person.  The Korean person answers in Korean, but answers me, not my friend.  I make pointless apologies and look at my friend for help.  They speak back to the Korean person. 

Swap Chinese for Korean, and that's exactly the same thing that happens here.  The locals don't think they're being rude, but they automatically speak to the familiar-looking face.  I hope I don't subconsciously do that, but I can't think of a time when I've been in the reverse situation.

Maybe you mean 'Cork-Asian', like from Ireland?

Yesterday I had the most bizarre conversation with the girl who sits next to me at work.

It started off with a discussion about whether or not I liked Chinese food, as apparently I seem to eat it quite regularly (not that she ever sees me eat). Of course I said I do, and that I grew up eating it, because my dad cooks Chinese food. This was met with surprise, but that's okay.

This segued into an explanation about how my dad is from Guangdong province, and yes, my mother is also Chinese (ethnically, not by birth country). This took my coworker completely by surprise, as apparently she had always thought I was caucasian. This, in turn, threw me for a bit of a loop. Apparently, now that she looked at me, she realised that, yes, I do have black hair, and yellow skin (her words), and not-blue eyes. All the tell-tale signs of not being white.

Not recognising my surname as Chinese I can forgive, because I use a Cantonese spelling, not a Mandarin one, and I know I don't have any trace of Chinese accent or mannerisms, but...I am confused. There was that time that someone thought I was Scottish, but they were American, and I'm sure they didn't think I was Scots Scottish.

Now, I really don't have a problem with white people. I love white people. I'm just not one, and I don't think I look like one. I can't count all the times I've told people I don't speak the language, and been met with "but you look like a Chinese!"

I think I need to conduct a poll.

Bus blooper

It's not often that I get a seat on the bus, and it's rarer that I'm not running that slight bit late for work, so I was surprised to find the bus half-empty yesterday. Obviously I took a seat. There are only a couple of stops between my apartment and my office, but hey. Nobody else was getting off at my stop, and nobody was getting on. It took me far too long to realise that the conductor (there's always a conductor as well as a driver) was probably asking if anyone wanted to get off. We were driving past the stop as I stood up, and I'm fairly sure I got tut-tutted as I disembarked.

At least I didn't have to resort to random waving and shouting, or profuse apologising. Dodged a bullet there.

On the way to work today...

...it was raining pretty steadily.  I saw a little old lady wearing a grey beanie (or toque, for Canadians) with a see-through plastic shower cap over the top.  It was kind of wonderful.

Not so wonderful was the fact that I was already late for work when I ordered my coffee at the bakery, and they took absolutely forever to make it.  Some white girl kicked up a fuss, and they gave her what should have been MY coffee, and then I had to wait even longer.  People were faffing around behind the counter, not making espresso and not frothing my milk.  In the end, I brattily made them give me an extra shot of espresso, thinking all the while that it probably wouldn't do much to help my mood. 

Thank goodness for old ladies in makeshift rain gear.