Finding Betty

Sometimes you just want brownies.

They way they taste when fresh out of the oven slightly under-baked and gooey in the center is almost indescribable.

One would think in a country the size of China it wouldn't be hard to find brownies and they would be right. However, if a brownie that tastes like chalk and sticks to the roof of your mouth sounds appealing to you you would be satisfied by the "brownies" that you can find here. I knew from my multiple attempts that I would have to make my own.

This sounds easy enough, but since most homes here in China only have stovetops you have to buy a toaster oven to make any type of baked good and, lets face it, baked goods are about all I am good at when it comes to cooking. About, two weeks ago Nikolai and I finally broke down and purchased one of these western necessities. I was thrilled at the thought of this purchase putting me one step closer to fresh brownies. Now, all I needed were the ingredients.

There is a supermarket about 5k away that has a bigger selection of western foods than other stores in the area. I knew this would be a perfect place to find all the ingredients that I needed for my brownies. Now, with that said, this store still has one aisle that is completely dedicated to noodles, another that has well over 100 different types of soy sauces and and yet another that is an odd combination of seaweed and chicken feet. Yet, I knew I saw a bag of flour - a key ingredient - there once.

As I searched the shelves for the usual ingredients (sugar, flour, cocoa, etc.) I was stunned when all of a sudden Nikolai (who was nice enough to join me on my little trip) said, " Jen, get over here." So I walked over to see what he had found.

And there they were.

Sitting on the shelf were 3 Betty Crocker brownie boxes. I could have sworn that each one was gift wrapped and had a gold bow on them. I reached down and grabbed 2 of them. "We should leave at least one for someone else.", I told Nikolai as I was trying to contain my excitement. However, that did not last long as I forced him to take a picture of me in the middle of the store. I know there are times where I really need to appreciate how wonderful my husband is, and this was one of them.

It is already 2 days latter and I have yet to open the packages. They are sitting in the top shelf in the pantry waiting for the perfect moment. Plus, I still have yet to find a brownie or cake pan in China.

I suppose if I need to I can just do what I do back home in The States, make the brownie batter and never actually make the brownies.

Bixi - breath

I remember the first "real" yoga class I took at Corepower Yoga in downtown Minneapolis. The combination of relaxation with full exertion were feelings that rejuvenated me in my first class and kept me coming back time and time again.

Moving to China I was worried that I would not be able to keep practicing. I knew if I had to I could roll my mat out on the living room floor. But that type of practice is nothing like finding a great studio or outdoor space. Luckily, about 3 weeks into our time here we joined a gym that has a beautiful yoga space. I was so excited to see the giant walls of mirrors and beautifully draped cloth adorning the walls. There were even several hand painted images of Shiva in the studio. I could not wait to join a class.

I did have one concern, however, the language.

Despite this, I packed up my mat and yogitoes and ventured into a class. I had (and still have) no idea of what style of yoga I was about to do as all of the class titles and descriptions were in Chinese. But hey, this is China, and most things here are surprises for me!

I walked into the beautiful space and found a place way at the back of the room. I knew I had to position myself in a spot where I could do as much observing as possible. As class started the instructor looked around the room and greeted us. She paused for a moment to look at me. The look on her face lead me to believe that she was not quite sure what to think about having a gweilo in her class. But a slight curve of her lips and nod of her head reassured me that I was welcome here.

As in most yoga classes, we started with our eyes closed and focused on our bixi, breath. After about 5 minutes of breathing I realized that I had no idea if she had instructed us to move onto something else. I tried to discreetly open my eyes and take a peak around the room. Luckily, we had not moved on. All of a sudden I heard some words I recognized in a firm yet calm voice, "Keep your eyes closed." Oops! Busted.

Class progressed through various hip openers and typical warrior stances that I recognized, but not in any order that I had ever encountered before. It was great fun, even though I was about 2 or 3 seconds behind the entire class the whole time. I am sure I gave a few of the women in the class a great laugh as I probably looked like my head was on a swivel trying to observe through their movements what the instructor was guiding us to do.

Things were very normal and even typical of a yoga class at home...until the end.

As we laid in corpse pose I heard the instructor say something and then I heard people move. I peeked out of one eye and noticed that they were moving into a sitting position with their eyes closed. So, I followed.

Then, it happened.

The instructor gave a command and the entire class began to slap themselves. Yes, slap.

Up and down their arms, legs, shoulders and even the tops of their heads. This went on for about 2 full minutes. Apparently, this is done in traditional chinese massages and at the end of workouts to relax the muscles and help bring fresh oxygenated blood throughout the body. To me it just looked like it hurt. But, I played along so as to not bring more attention to myself than my blond hair and funny big blue eyes already did.

At the end of class, I walked over to the yoga instructor and uttered one of about 10 phrases I had mastered at the time. "Xie xie", I said. She looked back at me, smiled and said, "You are welcome."

I left class for the first time relaxed and even more eager to learn chinese.