Train stewardesses unroll painting scrolls with traditional motifs. I bought this peony and bird art.
Page 3 CHINA DREAMS
Hawking handicraft at every corner
The train sped on through the paper-flat farm countryside. I saw vast patches of land covered with flowers of the rapeseed plant. China produced over 6.6 million tonnes of rapeseed oil in 1987, the largest producer worldwide. The oil is used mainly for cooking but some is used to make soap and as lubricant.
The bright yellow of the rapeseed flower was the only colour in an iron-gray landscape of early spring. Rows of denuded trees crisscrossed the horizon. Occasionally we passed a creek that flowed to another wider stream. Cluster of houses dotted the banks. A picturesque wooden skiff bobbed idly, breaking the crystal surface.
The numerous river estauries and canals are the natural focal points for towns and other large settlements. The water provide cheap and easy transport. Flat-bottomed barges carry coal from the interior to huge steel mills in Wuhan and Shanghai. Smaller sampans bring vegetables and other farm produce to the towns in this densely populated Yangtze alluvial valley.
In the chilled air of spring, sipping hot tea invigorates the spirit. The tea leaves are large and green and float on the hot water. When you drink, you are suppose to filter them with your teeth.
Tea cultivation is common in the foothills around the valley. In Hangzhou (three hours train from Shanghai, and regarded by Marco Polo as the most beautiful city in the world) brewing tea is a fine art. It is so important that a new museum has been built devoted entirely to tea. The museum opens this month with a grand international exposition on tea.
Serving tea wasn't the only thing the stewardesses did. I was about to slip into a nap when I was roused by a commotion nearby. The stewardesses had brought some scrolls of brush paintings. My travelling companions were bewitched by the pretty flowers, birds, landscapes and calligraphy as the stewardess obligingly unrolled the scrolls. [See picture above]
A large and unusual hand-embrodiered silk painting of peonies and white cranes drew gasps of admiration. It cost C$180 (or S$60). I bought it immediately. Other scrolls, mostly priced at C$100 each were eagerly snapped up by my companions. We were also shown handpainted silk scarves priced from $30 to $50. In Singapore dollars, these handicraft items were cheap, considering the amount of painstaking labour put into them.
Handicraft goods for tourists are a major industry in China. In every hotel lobby, in every waiting room, in every train station, in every large restaurant, in every bookshop, in every museum, and in every scenic spot, there are always handicraft counters hawking paintings, stone and ivory carvings, silk scarves, sandalwood fans, paper-cuttings, jade bracelets, clay figurines, lanterns, cannisters of rare tea leaves, snuff bottles, etc, and etc.
The main Friendship Store in Beijing has all four floors chocked full with such knick-knacks. The most common item is the scroll painting. The ones we bought in the train were cheap. But in most shops, they are very expensive, ranging from $500 to $20,000. And most of the work are indifferent, unoriginal, and showing stereotypes such as peonies, peach blossoms, tigers, white cranes, Zhong-Gui the ghost-buster, waterfalls and women with double chins and stylised expression.
Of course China continues to produce top-rate paintings. But you don't buy them in China. You go to Hong Kong to shop for the best in Chinese paintings and other works of art.
THE train rolled on. We passed several drab-looking towns. I decided to get up and stroll to the hard-seat compartments. But the door between our coach and the next was locked. I had to get the key from the stewardess and unlock the door. The other compartment was indeed full although everyone has a seat. It was noisy. People were chatting or sharing a meal. I saw a couple eating a rather large duck that has been stewed in sweet, black sauce. This is the little-known Nanjing duck.
It is available easily in Singapore, packed in round tins. They are not called Nanjing duck; just duck meat cooked until tender and soaked in sauce. You open the tin, heat the contents and eat the duck with white, watery porridge. It is that easy to prepare, nutritious and delicious.
There is also the Nanjing belly pork, which was my father's favourite. The Chinese called it "three-layered" meat because it comprises the skin, a layer of white fat and the actual meat. Belly pork is fried and stewed in sauce until tender. The skin is wafer-thin and crispy, while the fat is smooth and aromatic, and melts in the mouth. Belly pork is usually cooked with preserved salted vegetables. One can go on enjoying fatty belly pork to a ripe old age, and then die of a heart-attack induced by clogged blood vessels. (My father died at 77, not from eating belly lard but from a lifetime of cigarette smoking.)
