Qipu Market
Shanghai,
Shanghai,
China
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Qipu Market area is a maelstrom of sights and sounds and smells. There is almost too much going on for the brain to comprehend. Jason, Teresa and I took a bus, and escaped at the pedestrian bridge. Within steps, we were approached by street beggars, all whom spoke Chinese, of course. They were persistent, understandably so, and my heart was touched by the desperation in their faces. If I was living as they are, I would never turn loose of a foreigner's sleeve until I had gotten some money from them. They were especially upsetting to Teresa, but I had seen many similar faces in Viet Nam 40 years ago.
In the market, you can buy just about anything that you want, but we focused on shoes. Shoes, shoes, and more shoes. Shoes to the left of me, and shoes to the right of me, and shoes all around me. It is a woman's paradise, and a man's torment. Nevertheless, I was the one who bought shoes, not Teresa. I've never seen so much footwear, and I hope to never again.
When we finished shopping, Jason took us out to the street vendors. Cooking odors overlay the unsavory smells of that part of town (all parts?). Eating on the street where cooking carts are lined up about every ten feet, is a walk on the wild side. In fact, I got lost. I had stopped to take a photo, and when I looked up, I couldn't see Jason or Teresa. It was hard to see anyone familiar among the hordes, but I searched for my tall son's head. No luck. I finally decided that I would just stay put, hoping that they would discover that I was lost, and return to look for me. After several anxious minutes, I heard Teresa's voice and I saw that they were in a booth about 10 feet from me, buying something to drink.
There is a fascinating variety of faces and skin colors in China. Some people are dark-skinned, and appear to have lived their lives in the country working their health away. Those who are light-skinned do everything possible to keep the sun away, always carrying a colorful unbrella rain or shine. I even saw some ladies wearing gauntlets to cover their lower arms.
In the evening, we went to the airport, where we discovered that our flight had been delayed for two hours. While we were sitting in hard seats, waiting to load, I felt a little tickle on the back of my neck. There was a small girl trying to get my attention, and I started playing Itsy Bitsy Spider with her over my shoulder. She had a sweet giggle and laugh, and all of my family and seat-neighbors began to smile at her antics.
When we finally boarded the plane, I discovered that Oriental seats are not designed for Occidental buttocks. Boy, was it ever tight. Out of boredom, I closed my eyes and waited for us to land. About halfway through the flight, an attendant began to make an announcement which went on and on and on. I was beginning think that he was reading a book to us to pass the time. When I opened my eyes and looked up, I found that he was selling merchandise. He would hold up a hairdryer, brag about its virtues, and state the price. For half an hour, he sold dryers, remote controls, Disney towels, toy airplanes, pens, and other miscellaneous products. That was definitely the strangest flight I've ever taken.
Our landing in Guilin was uneventful and we soon caught a taxi and headed for Yangshuo, an hour away. Soon we could see spectral shapes creeping out of the gloomy dark. We were in the middle of the famed Karst (limestone) peaks, and it was the most otherworldly landscape I've ever seen.
When we arrived at our hotel in Moon Hill village, it was midnight and pitch black. Our host met us in a dark alley, and escorted us along primitive paths to our rooms. We had to walk from where our taxi driver stopped, as he couldn't drive up the narrow road.
Our rooms were somewhat clean, and a welcome sight at the end of a long day.
