Train to Qingdao

I've always loved taking the train. So, I was actually pretty excited for the five hour train ride from Beijing to Qingdao. I have some relatives from my mother's side in Qingdao, so I had decided to visit. My grandfather's younger sister and her descendants are living there now. It's really sad how the war against Japan and the civil war separated families. My grandfather had been a student, and when the Japanese armies came, the Nationalists moved towards Taiwan, bringing a bunch of students with him. His mother and sister had gone to pick him up from his class trip, but he was gone. Both siblings had assumed the other had died during the wars, but one day my grandfather spoke to someone and found they were from Qingdao, and he asked about his sister. They reconnected that way, but for a long time it was forbidden for Taiwanese to visit China, and vice versa--my grandfather had become a Taiwanese citizen, having fled to Taiwan with the Nationalists. When flights to Hong Kong opened up, my grandfather was on the first flight--since he worked for the government, he was able to get that spot through connections. He met his sister there. Before his death, he was only able to go to Qingdao once. It's really sad that now that it's much easier to travel between PRC and ROC, he is no longer here. 

The train was clean and fast, but some people smelled pretty bad. My friends had warned me that the bathroom was horrendous, so I drank nothing all day to avoid having to go. I had been excited because I had gotten a window seat, but found a little girl had taken my spot. It turns out her mom was in the seat beside it, so they requested I switch with her, though she had an aisle seat. I couldn't really say no to a little kid with her mom, so I gave my seat up. Later however, a nice gentleman with a window was willing to switch with me.

My mom's cousin, who I had never met, was supposed to pick me up at the train station. He coordinated with my Chinese friend and said that he would have a sign with my name on it. My Chinese friend said, "you know, she can't read Chinese so you'll have to write her name in a English."

"What??" I had said to my friend. "Of course I can read my own name in Chinese!!"

Anyhow, my uncle prepared a cute sign, even writing my name in traditional Chinese and in English.

There are stewards selling beverages, snacks, and hot meals on the train. Luckily I did not eat, because my family had prepared an enormous meal for my arrival. I identified my uncle easily with the sign, and they took me to see my grandpa's sister. She is in her late eighties now, and has a bit of dementia. When she saw me, she started to cry a bit, because it was overwhelming for her. She was able to understand that I was her brother's grand daughter, and was very happy, and would smile at me from time to time. "So small," she said, "and traveled so far by herself." She had seen photos of me as a child, but it was my first time meeting her. 

My relatives prepared a feast. One of my uncles is an amazing chef, who happens to work for Tsingtao Beer company, a brewery based in Qingdao that the locals are incredibly proud of. He had brought a keg of beer with him, proclaiming that it was the best because it was freshly bottled that day. They had made crabs, shrimp, fish, clams, small whole scallops in the shell, huge sea snails, eggplant with salted egg yolk, cucumber and dried shrimp, and a vegetable mix. They also made their own hot sauce, which is amazing. I wasn't planning to drink beer, but they were so proud of their beer that I felt like it would have been an insult not to. Here, they clink glasses before taking each sip. 

An amazing home cooked meal