A trip to the market

I had a nice walk today. I visited with a couple of teachers from another school. We chatted over lunch at the food court of a local mall. I nearly wrote 'Chinese mall', but I suppose that would be stating the obvious. Nevertheless, I felt something was required to distinguish this experience from a typical American mall. Firstly, Chinese malls are vertical, not horizontal. This allows them to be built in the middle of town so everyone can get to them. The first floor typically seems to be the department store. When you reach the center, there's typically a tall (four or five stories) atrium, where the escalators crisscross the atrium all the way up. There seemed to be typical mall stores on every level until we reached our destination, the food court on the fourth floor. The food court itself wasn't terribly different from an American food court, except that it was family style dining (it almost always is in China). We purchased about half a dozen bowls of various different items (I should write an entire post dedicated to the food here) and shared them between the three of us.

After lunch, I struck out on my own to see the city, as I have almost daily since I arrived. On this walk, I was hoping to find a street I've yet to walk down, or a pedestrian mall unfamiliar to me. It didn't seem I was going to have much luck, being as that I'm an avid walker and have covered most of the streets adjacent to the school I'm working at. I thought I would walk down the same streets, or maybe try a new one that turned out to look the same. This is never a disappointment, by the way, every street in China has been interesting so far. I'm astounded at the sheer volume of small businesses. Every available storefront is in use for something. Whether it's a hair salon, sushi restaurant, or welding shop, almost everything is in use and open. That makes for very interesting street life in China. No matter the time of day or evening, something is happening on every street. Customers in the day, busily in and out of the shop or restaurant. Family in the evening, hanging out around the shop, shooting the shit and watching the babies and kids play in front of the shop while they all await closing time.

So today, I knew I would be in for a treat regardless of what the street looked like. I've experienced streets so far that are crowded with fresh fruit and vegetable shops, some that are predominated by food vendors, and even a particular street that is a long row of furniture stores, most no wider than a  car length, but packed with an astoundingly wide range of furniture styles (the stores had everything from locally made, traditional, wooden to Ikea knockoffs). After a month in China, I'm still surprised at what I actually find. After a couple of blocks down an unfamiliar street, I saw the entrance to a market area off the main road. Intrigued, I crossed the street and entered.

You can never really tell how big a market is going to be by peering in the entrance. At first, it looked pretty normal, with all manner of vegetable and fruit sellers along the entryway, but very quickly it turned into a full fledged food market. Ladies along the side of the pathway were selling live fish out of relatively shallow pans. Progressing further, I crossed a small bridge over a shallow river (Chenzhou is at the confluence of two rivers) and progressed into a wonderland of urban markets. A variety of unfamiliar spices and dried chilies, live foul, meat and animals (I mean to say that it didn't look like meat from a supermarket, but clearly distinguishable as heads, legs, feet, etc.), and the like.

I kept meandering through the market, keeping to the main pathway, but always stopping to gaze down the various pathways at the other options, sometimes pathways next to the river, populated by endless tables of older gentlemen playing (presumably) ma jong, and sometimes tile covered interiors moist with either constant washing or the moisture of oil and blood from the meats they're selling. Despite the draw of these two extremes, I kept to the path and walked along, fascinated enough by the experience that I could stumble through and just look, dodging to the side at the sound of a scooter horn from behind (a reflex by now) and stopping at the more interesting piles of spices.

I had only just decided to dub this 'the endless market' when I saw the end of the main pathway. I could have turned back and explored some of the many alternate routes, but I decided to press forward instead, so emboldened by my discovery that I was certain I would find more great things in my exploration. About 30 seconds after my exit, however, I was wishing I would find another, similar market to explore. Then my wish was granted as I passed in front of a small, nondescript entryway off the busy road that the market had dumped me out onto. I entered, hopeful that there would be something of interest. Of course, I only continued because there most certainly was.

This new market stretched on strait. No food at all. This market sold all manner of non perishable goods. Cookware, toys, packaged snacks, clothes. The list could go on forever. The assortment was seemingly random, but people from this neighborhood undoubtedly knew to come here for whatever they might want and I'm sure knew which vendor had the lowest price. That seems ubiquitous in China: connections to a friend in the market supersede marketing every time. I progressed down the market after noon. Apparently about the time the stores are ready to close up. When I reached the end, I was at an outdoor winding staircase, which ended at no other place that the 'still looks like it did when it was alive' section of the previous market.

These markets are such an exiting part of being in China that they alone make it worth being here. There's a similar, though smaller, market close to the school at which I work. I have made a promise to myself to make sure that I explore that market thoroughly and begin shopping at it while I'm living here.