Bellahaus, by far, is my favorite western restaurant in downtown Changzhou. It’s in the nearly empty mall Parksons built and then abandoned. This is on Beidajie, which is esentially Nandajie once the street crosses Yanling. So, when you are downtown, it is super easy to walk to. Typically, you might find me here on Saturday having lunch.
That being said, I feel the need to point out the worst thing there that I had. And if the owners or the chefs end up reading this, I am not being mean; this is constructive criticism. I once had a
terrible goat cheese salad here. By terrible, it was nearly all goat cheese and nearly no vegetables. There was nearly two slices of tomato, some cashews and walnuts, and a lot of sweet goat cheese slightly drizzled with balsamic vinegar. It felt like I was eating a desert, not a health conscious salad. A good friend of mine had this many months ago and recommended it. My guess was her salad was prepared differently and didn’t have goat cheese scooped onto lettuce as if it were ice cream.
Even though I hated that dish, i still standby my firm recommendation of the restaurant as a whole. For example, the “cordon rouge” is something I eat there all the time. Think of it as a cordon blue dish, but substitute pork for the chicken. Yes, that means you get a breaded pork cutlet stuffed with bacon and cheese. There are usually sliced mushrooms in there too. It’s a simple, filling dish that is worth the money.
It’s actually wrong to think of Wujin as Changzhou’s southern district. True, a good bit of it is in the south of the city, but if you look at a map, district lines have Wujin surrounding much much of the city. For instance, you can stand in Xinbei, drive west, and find yourself in Wujin. The same will happen in you drive east. So, if you’re trying to describe Changzhou to somebody, you have to be specific when you are talking about Wujin. I have devised my own
system for the two northern parts: the “west arm” and the “east
arm.” In the USA, such map irregularities
are called “panhandles.” Because, well, they are shaped like panhandles. For non-native speakers, the metaphorical use of the word might be difficult — hence my “arm” preference.
For a little added perspective, the blue dot in both Baidu Maps screenshots is me. I am at my computer in my apartment at Hohai University. This is on Hehai Road. Xinbei Wanda Plaza is in walking distance. Dinosaur Park is four kilometers away. Downtown is about 20 minutes away when I am doing 60 kph on my eBike.
When you are travelling, and you don’t know Chinese food all that well, there is one place you can always count on in an emergency: Pizza Hut. To be honest, the place is way over priced, and the quality of the food isn’t all that great. However, here is a scary thought: Pizza Hut in China is actually better than Pizza Hut back in America. One of the only selling points is the convenience. In this part of China, Pizza Huts are nearly everywhere.
The other thing is breakfast. Pizza Hut is one of the places where you can get western style eggs, including omelettes and bacon. Sure, diners back in Jersey do this much, much better. But this obviously isn’t New Jersey, and thank the lord for that. If you are in Xinbei, it might be better to check into OK Koala first — especially if it’s a Sunday morning.
When you are a Catholic, “The Stations of the Cross” are immensely important. It’s not the same for other Christians — especially American Protestant Evangelicals. For Roman Catholics, it’s part of the decor of every church. It’s either the art of in all of the stained glass windows, or it’s a series of paintings and bass relief sculptures. So, you may ask, what are these “Stations?” It’s a series pictures of Jesus Christ being put to death and being nailed to planks of wood. The more exact term is “crucifixion.”
Every Easter, Catholics recreate this scene as a religious drama and watchable spectacle, but the artistic depictions are there in Church throughout the year. The idea is to visit every moment of Christ’s
death for a moment of prayer. For the sake of clarity, let me emphatically say I am not a Christian. My reasoning is intensely personal, and I will not offend people by getting into it here. The subject is also actually a little touchy between me and my father. You see, I was raised in Catholicism. I then walked away from that faith very early in my adulthood.
Yet, prior religions follow you the rest of your life, even when you don’t want them to. I am not being cynical, either. For as much as I am not a Catholic, Roman Catholicism has still shaped the some of the ways I think. It’s just who I am. I thought about this a lot, recently, when confronted with some Buddhist imagery in Changzhou‘s Tianning Temple.
It’s part of Hongmei Park in a district the bares its name. The chief attraction there is the pagoda. One day, however, I visited the temple to just as a way to kill time. It was Easter Sunday, and I was meeting a close friend for dinner in Wujin. Only, she had a lot of grading to do before becoming available. Tianning Temple has two ticket prices, and since I wasn’t interested in going into the Pagoda, I opted for the cheaper 20 RMB fare.
In one corner of the temple grounds, there is a garden filled with Guanyin Sculptures. Guanyin is a often considered a goddess of
mercy. She’s a Bodhisattva in Buddhism, and as is the case with the Chinese variety of that faith, she’s shared with other religions. In
Taoism and folk religion, she is considered a mercy goddess. Some have even drawn parallels with the Virgin Mary.
And so that brings me to the Stations of the Cross analogy. As I walked around, I stopped at each of the dozens of Guanyin sculptures. Most of them feature her reclining or sitting. Some have her with dragons, and other with birds with ornate plumage. Incense sticks burn at each statue. At many of the sculptures, people have left coins or other mementos. It wasn’t the statues themselves that reminded me of the Stations of the Cross. It were the people who came here to pray. Many stopped at each and every statue to be mindful in thought. So, the stories are drastically different, but the method of worship is very similar.
“If you can’t find it at Metro, you probably will not find it in Changzhou.”
I used to say these words all the time, but lately I realized how fundamentally I was wrong. On the surface, it seems logical and plausible. Some supermarkets carry items that others do not. For example, I routinely can’t find German pickled red cabbage at Metro, but it’s on the import shelf at the Xinbei Wanda Walmart. Metro basically has most of what a westerner may want an need, but often items show up in other places all the time. Yet, that superstore is only convenient if you live in Xinbei or near the nothern end of Changzhou. Wujin is set to get its own sometime this year, and that will be in the Coco City shopping center near Injoy Mall. Coco City is still under construction.
I recently discovered this at a small import shop / supermarket called Way To Delicious 味和氏. This is likely a chain, as Baidu maps lists several locations when you search using the Chinese name. I have only been to three. There used to be a small one in Hutang, right across the street from Tesco. However, it closed. The two others I have visited were in Xinbei. One is near Changfa Plaza and the Xinbei TV Tower and media center. The other was closer to Indian Kitchen and Dinosaur Park.
The one thing, however, is that they don’t seem to carry the same products. For example, I found Polish plum juice at one, but no Snapple. The other had Snapple, but none of the Polish beverages. The unpredictable nature of the stocking means, well, you don’t make special trips to them. You just go there because you live or work near one, and its convenient. So, what am I judging Metro on, here? The Polish plum juice. I know because I check the last time I went to Metro. And by the way, Way To Delicious may be out of plum juice. I bought all five last time I was there.
The Chinese is 孔融让梨, or in Pinyin without the proper tone markers: kong rong rang li. If you translate the characters verbatim, you get “Kong Rong yeild pear.” In the picture, you can barely make out the characters, but I sent the photo to a Chinese friend who is native to Changzhou’s Jintan District. Turns out, many Chinese people could probably figure this out, due to how famous the expression is.
Kong Rong was both a scholar and a descendant of Confucius. His literary achievements likely outlive his acts as a minor warlord. Once, he spoke ill of Cao Cao, a Chancellor of the Eastern Han Dynasty. Both Kong Rong and his entire family were executed as a result, and their corpses were left in the street As ancient Chinese history goes, this was during the Three Kingdoms period. The killing of the family is strangely a reminder of a different part of Chinese culture.
Family is important in The Middle Kingdom in a way it just isn’t in the west. Honoring your father and following his orders are paramount. That’s filial piety, two English words seldomly used in the USA or UK. But it even gets into sibling hierarchy. Younger brothers are supposed to respect older brothers — the same with older sisters and younger sisters.
As legend goes, as a boy, Kong Rong would only pick up or pick small pears to eat. This would be from or around the trees near his home. Why? He felt it was his duty to leave the plumper, juicier fruit for his elder brothers. Hence, 孔融让梨, or “Kong Rong yeilds pears.”
As for this sculpture, it’s in Jintan’s Hua Luogeng Park 华罗庚公园. It’s one of three statues dedicated to Chinese idioms. The park itself is in walking distance from the long-distance bus terminal.
“You are asking the wrong person. I am quite antisocial. I don’t know.”
I said this to a friend of mine, recently. She’s Chinese, and her fiance is an American new to China. In day to day to life, he is surrounded by his future Chinese in-laws. He’s also surrounded by Chinese, and not his native language. Potentially, he may feel like a stranger in strange land, and she was wondering how and where he could meet fellow expats. As we talked, I realized that trying to use my fundamental lack of people skills as an escape was not going to be helpful to her and her fiance. So, I thought extra hard for answer.
And then my mind drifted to Satina Anziano. She used to operate Grandma’s Nook in Wujin. It was a bakery that specialized in super awesome multigrain and sour dough breads. Plus there were always homemade chocolate chip cookies and rather illicit and guilty pleasure inducing cinnamon rolls. I mean, who else in Changzhou actually made and sold cinnamon rolls? She used to do Sunday brunch in at her Wujin shop, too. Only, I was always too busy to go. After all, I tend to be an antisocial, brooding, solitary type of guy. I know that’s a problem, and I am trying to get over it. Plus, I had too many part time jobs on Sunday, so I never went.
Satina has since retired and sold her shop. But, she’s still active in the expat community. Her brunches never ended, they just migrated from Wujin to Xinbei. Every sunday, Grandma’s brunches are now available at OK Koala, which can be found just one B1 BRT stop beyond Xinbei Wanda Plaza.
Every Sunday, you can get the sort of heavy breakfast that would be readily available all day in either an Australian cafe or a New Jersey diner. By this, I mean scrambled eggs, toast, potatoes, omelettes, and much more. This is the ultimate comfort food while living in Changzhou. Why? It’s hard to find. if you don’t make it for yourself. Besides OK Koala, the only place to get a breakfast like this would be Pizza Hut. After all, they serve omelettes and hash brown sticks. Only, the person eating one table over from you will be Chinese, and they will be spooning an expensive porridge into their mouth. And they will likely be more concerned with staring at QQ on their iPhone than talking to you.
Grandma’s brunch’s at OK Koala is a great chance to meet your fellow expats. I went there recently. I realized that it had been forever since I talked to Satina, I went there to find her, only to find out that she had been feeling ill, Still, I hung around, and for the first time somebody showed me what Australian vegemite was, when
thinly spread onto bread. A New Zealander was also quick on hand that marmite was better. Vegemite? Marmite? It’s all the same to
this Jersey guy. It’s deliciously sort of bitter on toast. But, honestly, I loved that a Kiwi and an Aussie had a chance to argue their cases in front of clueless American. And, right now, OK Koala is the only place to to have discussions like that on Sunday mornings.