Searching through my safe yesterday I ran across a precious, somewhat faded photo of my good friend Ned Imbrie. Our friendship has spanned more than four decades and found us in many times far away and exotic places. The subject of the photograph was a Rickshaw outting around the City of Hangzhou located in the Zhejiang province of China. Battling an illness we were holed up in a crude hotel on the outskirts of town set in the back water of the Qiantang river. A quest for antibiotics took us on a tour of Hangzhou “pharmacies” via the Rickshaw powered by a rough looking, big legged Chinese wench with rotten teeth and a bandaged leg.
Ten days later and on the mend we would be detained by the Red Chinese Army on a remote stretch of road outside Ningbo. The Russian van we traveled in was miraculously equipped with a cassette player which blaired “Lets Come Together” by Canned Heat while our interpreter, Hongji Wong convinced the soldiers that we were scouting locations to film “Hunter” the TV series (which was the only western TV program allowed on state television), and that I was in fact Hunter himself. (We all look alike to them too). To this day I rememeber how unnerving that experience was and how Hongji gave the performance of a lifetime.
I remember the dim dingy God forsaken orphanages full of little girls, the school children that just wanted to touch our face and gaze endlessly at these two huge caucasians. The cook in the Hotel in Zhaoxing who invited us into the kitchen and stood over his gargantuan wok, cooking down a reduction of soy sauce and wine in which to simmer whole baby ducks as his long cigarette ashes fell below to garnish the preparation. As he spoke his cigarette never left his lips as it bounced up and down, squinting through its smoke he gave testimony to his delight to be in the presence of Americans and fawned over Hongji’s shapely behind. That evening’s meal turned out to be one of the finest of my lifetime. The soy steamed Chicken’s feet, the tender baby Bok Choy, canal fish fried in the straw fueled wok and the tender baby ducks complete with entrails were simply unforgettable.
Bok Choy has since become widely available to the states which reminds me that respecting the ingredient may no longer be an economic necessity in much of the emerging world; it is now a pleasure, to be experienced and enjoyed at one’s chosen time and place. What an awesome time to be alive.
Ours experiences in Communist China helped shape our lives, gave us new insights into the reality of the true spirit of the Chinese people and their fascinating culture set apart from the ugly politics of the world stage.
Ned, now relocated to Denver, remains one of my very closest friends. We have been loyal to, and lived, our dreams. There is much more to write. The trip from Bejing traversing the desert wilderness to the Mongolian capitol of Ulaanbaatar has been on the table for a number of years. It would be rough and perhaps involve such survival necessities as suckling the teat of a feral Yak. I have obsessively studied the maps and wondered if the herders would have fuel and supplies. Do two second hand lions still have possession of enough blood of adventure to make this long haul? Only time will tell.