A Harbinger of Change, and, The Final Beijing Noose

First, I must announce the big news: Lisa and I are moving to Harbin. Our job opportunities in Beijing fell through, and so we've decided to move out of Beijing and up north to the "Ice City" to study Chinese at the Harbin Institute of Technology where the school is cheap, the English is few, and the people speak perfectly clear Mandarin. For some perspective:



Harbin has an interesting history. Although originally part of Manchuria, the city was originally founded by the Russians in 1898 as a hub for their new railway into the East China sea, where they'd drill for oil. In 1917 and following, a bunch of White Russians (those opposed to Lenin's newly-established government) fled there. Thus, there's a huge Russian influence in the architecture and even an orthodox church. Then, in the 1930s, the Japanese took over and experimented their germ warfare techniques on Chinese peasants (there's still a Holocaust-like museum there). There, the Japanese set up the puppet government Manchukuo, where the deposed Manchu emperor (Puyi) was given part of his kingdom back. However, after WWII, it went back into the hands of the Chinese. Then, in the Cultural Revolution (1967-77), when all the fervent Maoists wanted to kick out all the evil foreigners, almost all the Russians were expelled.

Additionally, Harbin is noted for its Ice Sculpture festival every year, in which dozens of hands carve buildings, statues, etc., out of the frozen water. Another attraction is the Siberian tiger preserve nearby.

Now, as promised, here is a post about chuar, the kebob style of food favored by Chinese Muslims (known as Hui). Generally, mutton and baked bread appear, spiced up & impaled, as chuar. One of our favorite places to go is to this restaurant, and it provides a happy ending to a well-spent Beijing day.


Above, you'll find the entrance to the restaurant, named Hui Wei Zhai. It translates loosely as Muslim-flavored zhai. The final character is used for fasting and for the month of Ramadan, so we're not really sure what it's supposed to mean. In any case, no one eats inside because it's lovely out in the hot Beijing night, and so you see, on the right, a group of foreigners chowing down.


Here we have one of the servers, i.e. one of the sons of the boss because everyone who works here seems to be family, cooking our chuar. The grill is small (no more than .5' x 3') but a fiery furnace fueled by the cheap yet environmentally destructive coal.


Derek and I eating our chuar. The fatty pieces are the best.


A plate of chuar pre-consumption. Chuar goes really well with a cold Tsingtao (Qingdao) or Yanjing beer, which is both tragic and ironic because the Muslims don't drink alcohol and will never be able to experiece their own dish in all its glory.


Here is Lisa enjoying her kao mantou, or roasted bread, prepared chuar-style. It is both delicious and traditional.


Behind the man at another chuar restaurant, we see a string of lights that shows the character for chuar. This character is one of the few instances where the Chinese language is intuitive. If you look, you'll see a skewer going through two pieces of meat or bread. Just compare the lighted character with what Lisa's eating in the picture above. Hah!

That is all for now about chuar. It is one of the few dishes for which I'll make exceptions to my vegetarian lifestyle. It's a unique experience, something that could only happen in China, where the Hui Muslims, although they've Sinicized in every other aspect of their lives, have contributed a lasting cultural monument to the Glorious People's Republic of China.