Thukpa and Chubas

There is a great deal of monotony at this particular juncture. It is winter holiday, so there is no class until March. It has provided me with the opportunity to spend a lot of time alone, which I enjoy. Also, as I think I mentioned before, I am teaching English.

Friday, I had planned to go to lunch with Lauren and Rachel. I didn't finish English class until 12:30 so, Tashi was invited to lunch and Stephanie as well. It turned into quite a group. Well, we went down the street and around the corner to a wonderful jiaozi restaurant. Jiaozi is the Chinese word for those delightful little meat or vegetable filled dumplings that are often a disappointment at Chinese restaurants and called potstickers at T.G.I.Friday's. Here, they are small, about the size of a quarter, and come with a variety of fillings.

At this particular restaurant, we sat in our own private upstairs room. It is quite common for restaurants to have a second floor devoted to seating. We looked at the menu, and Tashi promptly ordered a jin (half kilo or 1.1 lb) of lamb jiaozi for himself, while us girls ordered another jin of lamb jiaozi, a jin of pork and cabbage jiaozi and half a jin of egg and vegetable jiaozi for Stephanie. Instead of having merely soy sauce to dip the jiaozi in, each person receives a small dish with garlic, green onions, and chili, to which you may add vinegar and/or soy to your taste.

I must say that jiaozi are one of my favorite foods. In fact, I eat them several times a week at the vegetarian restaurant around the corner. They are easy to order, since the menu at the "Wonderful Vegetarian House" is in English as well as Chinese. At the jiaozi restaurant, called simply "Jiaozi House", the menu is only in Chinese, so I tend to go there with someone who can read the menu.

Anyway, after our delicious lunch, Tashi insisted that he take us all out the next day, in a friend's car, to eat at his favorite thukpa restaurant, where, he informed us, the pork in the noodles comes from pigs which are raised in the house.

On Saturday, true to his word, Tashi showed up in front of the dorm with a friend's minivan and his friend, as well. Stephanie, unfortunately, was ill, possibly from the egg jiaozi she had eaten the day before, but it is difficult here to judge where food poisoning comes from.

So, Lauren, Rachel and I piled into this minivan and proceeded to drive across town to a rather dirty looking noodle restaurant. I will say, however, that often the dirty restaurants are tastier than the clean ones. I don't quite understand this, but it is true here. We walked through the front room, into an open courtyard with more tables, into a hallway, around the corner, and into another room with more tables, where we finally sat. Tashi informed us that at this restaurant, five bowls of thukpa are considered one meal, and if a person eats 21 bowls, he doesn't have to pay for the meal. Apparently 21 is the restaurant record. Tashi's personal record is now 9 bowls of thukpa. While the bowls are small, five bowls of thukpa is probably close to half a pound of pasta, and it was all Lauren, Rachel and I could do to eat five bowls. We certainly didn't want to be impolite. We didn't see any pigs, though--thank goodness!

Now, as for chubas, they are the traditional dress of Tibet. There are men's chubas and women's chubas. The men's chuba consists of a shirt and a sort of robe that goes over and is sometimes worn with the right sleeve off. A woman's chuba is a kind of sleeveless, floor or ankle-length dress with panels on the side that wrap around and are adjustable. Under the dress, is a blouse, usually with long sleeves. Married women wear a striped rectangular apron on the front of the dress, while unmarried women do not.

Tibetan New Year, which falls in February this year, is the most popular time for chuba-making. Everyone wants to be dressed in new and beautiful clothing to greet the new year. Even foreigners, those of us who live here and are often invited to people's homes for parties, are expected to dress in Tibetan clothing for Losar. To this end, I went with some friends to have one of my own made at a chuba shop recommended by a Tibetan friend.

I have never had clothes made in the States, but there is a certain amount of privacy that goes into measuring. After choosing the fabric for my chuba, a dark color on the recommendation of the seamstress, due to the fact that a dark color would make me "look less fat", I was measured in the front of the store. It wasn't such a great ordeal, but a bit awkward. First of all, I was wearing a t-shirt with short sleeves. Second, there was a whole nomad family in the shop at the time, staring. My friends were kind enough, after a short while, to stand between myself and the staring nomads. Of course, I was also standing right in front of the windows that completely formed the front of the shop.

Today, I went back to the shop to pick up my chuba and choose a blouse. The shop was filled with women, their daughters, friends, and husbands, ordering chubas for Losar. My chuba was brought out, and a blouse chosen by the saleswoman. I took one look at the blouse and informed her it would not fit. She insisted I try it on, so, I put my arms into the sleeves, and stood there, with my arms pointing out in opposite directions, unable to lower them, while other customers laughed at my predicament. I was laughing too, so it didn't bother me at all, and truthfully it was laughable. It was decided at that point that I would have a blouse made. I choose a color with the help of my friends, was measured again at the front of the store, and then tried the dress on to make sure it fit properly. It did, thank goodness, but there was something amusing about my wearing a chuba, that the man watching discussed with the saleswoman. We didn't understand, but he had a great deal to say.

Tomorrow, I will be returning to the chuba shop to retrieve my blouse, which, hopefully, will fit. And then, it is on in search of shoes! That will be an interesting adventure.