Street meat

One of the first things people say to you when you tell them you're going to China, right after "Don't organize any 'Free Tibet' rallies," is, "Don't eat the street food."

I tend to break that rule a lot.

Yes, selling things streetside without a licence is technically illegal here. Then again, so are copyright infringements, scalped bus tickets and bribery. Not that any of those exist in China, at all.

Yes, none of this stuff is refrigerated and that can't be good for the ol' lower intestine. Then again, I know for a fact the hygeine in most restaurants' kitchens isn't much better and in a way it's comforting to watch things being cooked right in front of me.

Mostly, though, street food is delicious and cheap; it's also a testament to the culinary creativity of people who are pretty shafted in terms of their lifestyles here.

My favourite couple sells malatang outside the Fudan Daxue Bei Men. He's from Xi'an; she's from rural Sichuan. Their eight-year-old daughter, whom they've somehow wrangled a spot at the local public school, skips rope outside with them after school. They make the best numbingly spicy soup on this side of Chengdu. With a steady stream of students flocking to their stall, this is one pair of migrant workers with no plans to return home for lack of work.