Chris In China

As it was for me in America, every day presents a new challenge to my quest in finding new and interesting vegetarian food. But, there is one obvious distinction: Language. I learned, "w_ yao su shi" which means, "I need vegetarian food," right away. Saying these four words, or a variation of them, usually gets me what I want at most restaurants.
I have encountered some places that do not quite understand and end up giving me vegetables with chicken. Apparently, chicken doesn’t count. I can only blame myself for not being familiar enough with the language to specify. When this happens, I simply avoid the chicken on the plate, like landmines in a minefield.
With the disappointments come lessons about the Chinese diet, which is widely perceived to be healthy and full of variety. Maybe so, but when it comes to strictly meatless food, variety appears to vanish.
I stopped eating meat nearly two years ago, after extensive soul searching and research. At the time, I believed that both my mental health and physical health were suffering because of choices I made regarding what I ate. In order to rectify these issues, I stopped eating pork, red meat, game and chicken (I do eat seafood occasionally).
This decision had a tremendous impact on me. I became healthier, had more energy and my conscience remained clear.
But there were many doubters questioning my reasons and asking, "If you don’t eat meat, then what do you eat?" To that I would reply, "Vegetables."
Before arriving in China, I thought that it would no difficulty continuing to follow this diet. Strict Buddhists have been living as vegetarians in China and the East for centuries — their religion teaches them to live without harming other living beings. While not all Buddhists are vegetarian, the majority agrees that the act of abstaining from meat is one way to work toward that goal. If they could do it, why couldn’t I?
I also believed that because of its status as a developing nation, China would not present a lot of opportunities or motivation to eat meat.
But my perception was wrong.
In fact, eating meat with every meal is considered a symbol of high status in China because it demonstrates that the diner can afford to eat meat — an expensive alternative to vegetables and tofu. The result is few meals offered at general restaurants that keep the vegetarian in mind. Even soups that do not contain meat are made with a meat-based broth.
I have found some places that offer vegetarian food. It’s taken some searching, and most of the time, I bring a translating dictionary or someone who speaks Chinese along to help me find meat-less food. Through this routine, I have cultivated some rewarding relationships with a handful of restaurateurs in my neighborhood. They know what I want before I even sit down. This also helps me practice Chinese and get to know some of the local people intimately.
One such lad is San Mao, a man who owns a stall in Da Peng, a long covered foot court with nearly 50 white-tiled booths overstaffed with family members serving breakfast, lunch and dinner. In front of each booth are a handful of tables and teenage girls shoving menus into the hands of people walking by. Each table is equipped with self-serve chopsticks and red pepper powder, inviting the passerby to sit down to a meal.
Da Peng caters to those who love a decent meal at a bargain. Most lunches cost between three and six Yuan — between 40 and 80 cents American — and if you get there toward the end of lunchtime, booth owners will sometimes invite you for a drink of baijiu, a Chinese grain alcohol. Of the many choices, the most popular are Mr. San’s noodles and donkey burgers.
Mr. San knows how I like my noodles: no meat, extra veggies. It feels good to be on this level with him, it reminds me of my favorite coffee shop back home.
I have also become a well-known customer of two women who sell guang bing on the street. Guang bing are greasy pieces of dough that are thrown on a grill and heated for a while until an air pocket appears; the pocket then is pierced and an egg is thrown inside. After the egg fries, the piece of dough is finished over an open coal flame (which leaves the taste of cigarettes in my mouth). It’s garnished with a sweet hot sauce, crushed red pepper, scallions and lettuce, rolled up into the shape of a scroll and devoured in minutes. Guang bing sometimes has sliced hot dog in it, but when the ladies see me coming they know I want one without.
I am not against trying new things. I believe that I should know a little something about everything in order to be educated about the world. And that lack of variety I mentioned before is only in one city, in one province in the largest country in the world. There’s got to be much more out there, even for a vegetarian.
I acknowledge that.
So, I will continue to buy food from the streets, and I will continue to find new places to practice Chinese and try new foods. But giving up vegetarianism is something that I just cannot do — even if it means no dog soup for dinner.

Chris Gauthier is a recent Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts graduate who is spending a year in China teaching English at Hebei University. He will be writing regular columns for The Advocate during his stay in China. To read all of his Advocate columns, visit blogtheberkshires.com. Readers can also read more about his experiences on his own blog at chrisinchina.wordpress.com.