A Foray Into Fruit

A quick post about fruit in Harbin, and in China more generally.

Fruit sellers are everywhere. Sometimes they operate out of little shops, sometimes a little cart like a market from ye olden times, and sometimes they're found in something of a halfway house - a little mobile metal shack, like a caravan.

Mostly fruit is sold by the 斤 (jin) - a Chinese measurement which corresponds to 500g.

"这个怎么卖 (how is this sold)?" you can ask, while pointing. The reply will come "一块五 (1.5RMB)" if it's some oranges, or "七块 (7RMB)" if it's something fancy like mangoes, meaning cost per jin.

The fruit is measured on scales which range from regular mechanical kitchen scales to fancy electronic machines to a little hand-held contraption that uses metal weights and string. If you're just short of a round number, the seller will throw in something extra to round it up, unbidden. It can be some completely different fruit too.

Fruit also seems to have a significant presence in Chinese consciousness. For example, yesterday's 哈尔滨日报 (Harbin Daily) ran a story on its back page concerning getting ripped off several RMB on a fruit purchase, and a common gift when visiting a friend's house is to bring a basket of fruit.

Sometimes the range is astounding too. I still run into fruit I'm unfamiliar with. You can buy Dragon Fruit, Hawthorns, and Starfruit, even in the depths of winter, when the ground everywhere seems to be harder than old Chinese women's elbows.

China doesn't seem to have the concept of 'Five fruit or veg a day' either, whereby you eat five healthy items a day, whether it be a portion of veggies or a piece of fruit. Fruit is further towards the luxury end of the food scale, whereas vegetables are often a poor man's substitute for meat.

Saying that, fruit, along with most everything else in this strange and wonderful land, is frighteningly cheap. These ten satsumas, pineapple (peeled and with the eyes removed), and an 伊利沙白瓜 (Elizabeth Melon) came to a grand total of 9RMB (60p).

I've never eaten 'Elizabeth Melon' before, but I had to buy this after hearing its name. When I worked at Shanghai Foreign Languages School, the other foreign teacher was called Elizabeth. She quickly earned a reputation for uselessness and was given the nickname (behind her back) of 伊利沙白瓜 which was quickly shortened to 瓜 or melon.

It carries even more resonance in Chinese because 瓜 is often affixed to 傻 or 'stupid' to criticise a person. Calling someone 傻瓜 or 'stupid melon' is like saying 'you idiot'! Similar food-based terms of abuse include 笨蛋 (clumsy egg) and 饭桶 (rice bucket, meaning good-for-nothing although my dictionary further carries the definition 'fathead'). Yet another great example of the weight of food in culture here!