After 3 and a half months of navigating our way through the Middle East, Central Asia and China the cyclists rode the pleasant side lanes and bike paths to Tienanmen Square. Hugs were shared and pictures snapped. Chinese onlookers stared perplexed, wondering what direction we had all arrived from. A cool autumn day surrounded us, albeit with a decent amount of grayish haze. Mostly people seemed to struggle putting their bikes down, having grown attached at the hip to them, if you will.
Many stories are sure to be told; highlights of the trip will be recounted with broad smiles, and the challenges of the trip will be recounted with even broader smiles.
While we congratulate all the participants, we make special mention of seven cyclists who rode both the Orient Express and the Silk Route - from Paris to Beijing -
Albert Bui, Daniel Longo, Fred Promoli, Nicole Richardson, Graeme Scrivener, Stewart Sinclair & Manon Van Kleef.
Way to go guys!!
Till the next Silk Route Tour…
After 3 and a half months of navigating our way through the Middle East, Central Asia and China the cyclists rode the pleasant side lanes and bike paths to Tienanmen Square. Hugs were shared and pictures snapped. Chinese onlookers stared perplexed, wondering what direction we had all arrived from. A cool autumn day surrounded us, albeit with a decent amount of grayish haze. Mostly people seemed to struggle putting their bikes down, having grown attached at the hip to them, if you will.
Many stories are sure to be told; highlights of the trip will be recounted with broad smiles, and the challenges of the trip will be recounted with even broader smiles.
While we congratulate all the participants, we make special mention of seven cyclists who rode both the Orient Express and the Silk Route - from Paris to Beijing -
Albert Bui, Daniel Longo, Fred Promoli, Nicole Richardson, Graeme Scrivener, Stewart Sinclair & Manon Van Kleef.
Way to go guys!!
Till the next Silk Route Tour...
Lanzhou presents many of the amenities which Western China does not possess. One of those amenities is fast food. Personally I have a difficult time heading near one of these establishments, though as a teenager I once ate 4 big macs. Anyway, it’s a frightening development that as we head into inner China we end up using KFC’s as landmarks in the directions we provide our cyclists. Clearly Colonel Sanders has made a mark.
One could surmise that it’s the familiarity the Chinese have with smoking pools of fat (i.e. a hot wok) and the jokingly secret process of KFC’s chicken spice/frying process (I suspect all eleven secret ingredients are MSG) Or perhaps one could configure that Chinese Fried Chicken would never have made an appropriate acronym. The frightening aspect is that the ever motivated, active Chinese are at peril of becoming rounder because of it, and more boring.
A certain conclusion occurred in my mind when I was wondering down a back alley in Lanzhou, searching for a steaming pot of black fungus with garlic shoots, or maybe roast sheep brains. A nameless steel door flung open, peering in I could tell it was a KFC inside, the droid like employee let slip a bag of garbage from his hands onto the alley floor, eroding chicken pieces slipped from the bags mouth. Without pause a group of pigeons (which had been mysteriously following me for sometime) lined up at the bag and with communist zeal, picked up one piece of chicken each and proceeded to fill their low altitude bellies.
The conclusion dissolved as the pigeons finished feeding and flapped their wings violently in my direction.
Lanzhou presents many of the amenities which Western China does not possess. One of those amenities is fast food. Personally I have a difficult time heading near one of these establishments, though as a teenager I once ate 4 big macs. Anyway, it's a frightening development that as we head into inner China we end up using KFC's as landmarks in the directions we provide our cyclists. Clearly Colonel Sanders has made a mark.
One could surmise that it's the familiarity the Chinese have with smoking pools of fat (i.e. a hot wok) and the jokingly secret process of KFC's chicken spice/frying process (I suspect all eleven secret ingredients are MSG) Or perhaps one could configure that Chinese Fried Chicken would never have made an appropriate acronym. The frightening aspect is that the ever motivated, active Chinese are at peril of becoming rounder because of it, and more boring.
A certain conclusion occurred in my mind when I was wondering down a back alley in Lanzhou, searching for a steaming pot of black fungus with garlic shoots, or maybe roast sheep brains. A nameless steel door flung open, peering in I could tell it was a KFC inside, the droid like employee let slip a bag of garbage from his hands onto the alley floor, eroding chicken pieces slipped from the bags mouth. Without pause a group of pigeons (which had been mysteriously following me for sometime) lined up at the bag and with communist zeal, picked up one piece of chicken each and proceeded to fill their low altitude bellies.
The conclusion dissolved as the pigeons finished feeding and flapped their wings violently in my direction.
So I was at the market the other day. I couldn't tell you the name of the town or even what town it was near to, but perhaps these details don't matter. Regardless, what caught my eye was the Chicken Killer. She was probably in her mid-fifties, but looked older (aged by her profession I suppose).
She wasn't alone, as there were other Chicken Killers around, but she was the busiest, the most frantic. The chickens sit in cages, row upon row, pecking at the space between the bars, waiting to die. Every once in a while the Chicken killer reaches into the cage, pulls out an unlucky ground bird by the neck, and holds it high in the air. She stares into it's crazed eyes with a slightly sympathetic look, before spinning the bird around violently, inducing a life endind sound. This isn't the end.
The bird then get's non-nonchalantly tossed into a spinning vat of indescribable excitement. It involves water, agitation, and the birds feet sticking into the air, shaking this way and that. Clearly this is the Chicken Killer's favourite part, for she stands there with the most proud gleam and (as I can also attest) endless amazement as the feathers get sucked out the bottom of the vat. Eventually a limp, naked chicken is pulled from the excitement chamber.
So I bought the bird and cut it into pieces and served it with cashews I think. But I can't recollect for sure.
