Wheels of Addis

Isabel is 95 and sharp as a tack. She was born in Szechuan and lived most of her life in Beijing. Her son Michael’s English drifts in and out of Mandarin without, it would seem, him noticing. Raised in China, Mandarin is very much his first language. 

Both my cousins are wonderful, welcoming, fascinating people. (To find out more about my cousins in China, there are plenty of articles and books to read about their experience of living in Beijing through the Cultural Revolution. Start here and read on)

Michael guided us through a small shrine to a former prime minister of the Song Dynasty (late 13th Century), Wen Tianxiang. This great ‘scholar-general’ was imprisoned, tortured and later executed by the Mongols during Kublai Khan’s invasion of Beijing. Michael’s wife also happens to be a direct descendent of his - so naturally, Michael explained, he’s our ancestor, too.

Wen was imprisoned for several years within the compound where the shrine now sits. A tree within one of its inner courtyards is said to have been planted by Wen himself. It’s a jujube tree and we were able to taste its fruit which, when dry, tastes just like a date.

We then made our way to a local restaurant on the corner of two hutongs. The exterior looked none too promising, but once inside it was rather charming.

Of course there were no loos in the building, which seems to be the case in most places in hutongs. I therefore braved the public toilets, which are situated at regular intervals throughout the area. There were no doors and no cubicles. It was freezing (only a curtain in the main doorway protecting me from the elements) and what Jean-Pierre later termed a ‘squat and talk’ situation. I didn’t mind really, but I shouldn’t want to repeat the experience every day.

Meanwhile, lunch was outstanding. The food was Yunnan-style and utterly moreish. We ate tofu with pork, juicy Szechuan aubergines, a whole fished served in bubbling chili sauce, beef with mint, buttery Chinese leaves and fried rice with olive tips.

The conversation was equally engaging as Isabel recounted the time she spent living with remote tribes in Northern China and Tibet in the ’30s and ’40s. She was documenting their way of life and the photographs she took at the time are set to be published in a book this Spring.

The meal, though ridiculously inexpensive, was far too much for four people. Valiant though our efforts to polish off every dish may have been, there were still plenty of leftovers for Isabel and Michael to take home. 

Happy, warm and very full, we bade farewell to our cousins and made our way to our afternoon destination. Next stop: Beijing’s sprawling, spectacular Lamasery.