On my first day here in Beijing I spent several hours waiting in lines, going through the tedious university registration process. An American student remarked dryly, it’s just like those old-school photos of communist countries, where bureaucracy and countless form filling or endless line waiting seem to go hand-in-hand.

The only upside was that I made friends with the Swiss Germans in the line behind me, and the Hungarians in the line in front. (Perhaps, again, another hallmark of communism. At least we’re in this together!)

During our lunch break the Hungarians and I decided to check out the local food haunts, and wandered down an alley near our university. There was a dodgy little place with rickety tables and a few browned Chinese locals chowing down on bowls of noodles. Perfect, I said.

The Hungarians poured over the menus. Their language skills are far superior to mine (which don’t exist at all.) One word kept popping up, and was very familiar to them. Hang on, let me look it up in my dictionary, said A., who is somewhat nervous about Chinese food.

Donkey! he exclaimed, it’s donkey!

D. grinned, Donkey? Sure, why not? I shrugged, OK, let’s do it.

Two bowls of noodles with thin slices of meat appeared, plus a generous bowl of dumplings. D. and I dug in – A. stuck to a much safer plate of eggs and tomato.

How did it taste? Kind of like roast beef, but saltier. It’s a bit darker and redder in colour too. Later on we took the dumplings as take away and D. and I had second helpings in my room. By then, hours later, they had taken on a rather funky smell, so my recommendation is that donkey is only best eaten fresh!

Amazing right? My very first meal in China, we randomly stumble into a donkey meat restaurant. A class A cliche about Chinese culture so quickly proven true – they eat anything that moves.