How is the food in China?” That is one of the most often-asked questions when people learn that I have just returned from my trip accompanying my son (see also last week’s column). The answer is the same as it would be here: It depends where you eat. As my son was invited to speak at a half-dozen medical centers, his hosts graciously provided some meals that we enjoyed, although we didn’t always know what we were eating. Yes, the food was somewhat different from that served in Chinese restaurants here. In China, vegetables can be eaten, especially greens, at every meal with abundant tofu. Some of the dishes I had not seen before, and also some of their delicious fruits were new to us. There were fewer heavy sauces, less fried foods, lots of fish and seafood and smaller portions of meat — pork, chicken and some beef — often in combination with vegetables. Depending on the region, there was varying emphasis on sweet or spice. Dumplings were a constant, and soup with noodles came at the end of the meal. Dishes were placed on a large Lazy Susan in the center of the table, and each person plucked morsels with chopsticks as the turntable rotated. There were almost never any dairy products; many Asians are lactose intolerant.

A treat for the Chinese, and therefore for us, was “hot pot.” We sat in a restaurant at a round table, in the center of which was a heating element topped by a pot divided into two compartments. One half was for herbs floating in a consommé, the other for “spicy” — and they mean it. The wait staff brought dishes ranging from fish to meat to vegetables and tofu, all cut into bite-sized pieces. We had prepared ourselves with small bowls of spices that we had chosen from perhaps two-dozen offerings on an adjoining side bar. As the liquid boiled, we dipped in our bits of fish or spinach, much as you would with fondue. But instead of coating the food, we were actually cooking it, for a few seconds or however long we wished, then dragging it through our bowl of spices on the way to our mouths.

During our trip of more than some 3,000 miles, we visited six cities and a dramatic near-9,000-foot volcanic mountain with a crater lake in the center. The cities were Shanghai, Suzhou, Hangzhou, Nanjing, Changchun and Beijing, while Changbai Mountain is right on the border with North Korea. All had their special sights, and all had their stories. Throughout, the people were friendly and open, spontaneously answering a smile with one of their own, and interested in us. We knew they were curious because they stood in front of us and stared, something that is not frowned upon culturally. Some of those who spoke English came up to practice and to inquire where we were from and why we had come. The majority of tourists in China, especially this past year, are Chinese which speaks to the growing middle class; most of the rest are from other Asian countries.

We moved from place to place but only rarely saw the sun and blue sky. Pollution sits atop the country like a bathing cap on a swimmer’s head. As we rode on their bullet train, a high-speed marvel traveling at some 300 kilometers per hour (about 190 mph) from Shanghai to Hangzhou, we could understand why. Through the window, we could see tall buildings with a school in their midst and children playing in the schoolyard. Adjacent to the residences were a couple of factories with thick black smoke rising from their chimneys. Beside the factories were a number of farms, their produce neatly growing in rows carefully tended by the farmers. This pattern was repeated often. There appears to be no zoning; water has to be boiled or bottled for drinking; and agriculture is poisoned by the toxic air. The people and the government well realize the situation and they are trying to rectify matters. It is a price the population is paying for their incredible economic leap forward.

An American woman, living in Beijing who grew up in Northport, told us that she and her husband were staying only one more year because they feared for their baby’s health. Why were they there at all? Both of them were making such high salaries teaching English in the schools, and household help was so cheap.

China is a land of contrasts.

Final installment next week

The last time I was in China was 10 years ago, so when one of my sons told me he had been invited to give a series of talks at different universities there and would welcome my company, I jumped at the chance to see how the country had changed. I had been impressed by the energy and the work ethic of the Chinese people as well as the ambitions of the government, and knew that in a decade there would have to be a difference. So I invite you in turn to come along with me now, and I will share my impressions as we travel in this beautiful, exotic and ancient land of contrasts.

What a difference! We landed in Shanghai at night, and my first sight was of the airport: broad glass sheets, soaring steel beams and ultramodern with its people and luggage movers. No one we met in the bustle of humanity spoke English, but we did manage to find an ATM and a sign with the appropriate picture and the word in English directing us to the taxis.

Getting to our hotel was another matter. We did not have the name written in Chinese, a flaw that resulted in a two-and-a-half hour cab ride before we found ourselves ready to fall into our beds. As cynical New Yorkers, we suspected the worst of the cabbie but we couldn’t be sure and, to our delight, the bellman at the entrance to our hotel forced the driver to take two-thirds of the amount on the meter when he learned we had come from the airport. It set the tone for the rest of our trip, for we found the Chinese people to be honorable throughout all our subsequent money transactions with them, although they expect to bargain. In any event, the lesson here is to get the name of every destination in Chinese for the driver, and especially to carry the name of one’s hotel in Chinese for the return trip. And cab fares, by the way, are quite reasonable.

The number of skyscrapers in Shanghai has indeed multiplied, and the architecture is imaginative and impressive. But at the same time that we marveled at the skyline the next morning, we noted the thick gray fog that covered the sky. This was the pollution we had been warned of, and it was to accompany us during all but a couple of days throughout our trip. Few people wore masks, we noted, as we ventured out, and I was immediately dazzled by the colors of the clothing worn by the pedestrians as they hurried along the streets. When I was last there, most people wore blue jackets, gray pants and sturdy shoes. Now the women in particular were dressed in bright shades of every color, matched with fashionable sandals, and they looked quite elegant and attractive. They also looked thin, the men as well. It wasn’t until we traveled well north that we saw a taller and sometimes stockier population.

The city was clean and free of litter, the result of cadres of people with large brooms whom we saw sweeping the walkways as we rode the red double-decker tour buses. I remembered the human cleaners from my last visit, but this time they were reinforced with mechanized sweepers that rode along the sidewalks and in the streets.

Where before there had been many bicycles and fewer cars, now there were traffic jams of legendary proportions and few bicycles. And after a couple of days, we realized that we never saw anyone in a wheelchair or on crutches and, unless the buildings were quite recent, there were no aids like elevators or depressed curbs for the disabled. We did see a few people in wheelchairs where there were westerners, like in Beijing. In a few of the cities we visited, Chinese tourists from perhaps more rural locations, stared at us or came up and asked to take pictures with us. This was all transacted with pantomime, of course. They seem especially to like red, the national color, and the day I wore a crimson blouse I was a popular iPhone target.

Many of the children we saw were in the care of their grandparents since both parents tend to work. And although the single child — the result of the one-child policy — was often a boy, I was happy to see a lot of young girls. This, too, was a noticeable change from my last visit. The surest way to break the ice on the street or in a museum or park, we found, was to interact with the children. We were rewarded by the adults with broad smiles.

Part II will be next week.