Lost in Canton

Until about noon, my prospects for an interesting walk in the city looked dim; an ill wind -- the fringe of distant typhoon Chanchu -- was blowing through Guangzhou. Umbrella-inverting gusts and stinging rain had already nixed my plans for a half-day photo safari, so I left all of my camera equipment at the hotel when we went to lunch. As we ate, the winds died down, and the rain subsided. We enjoyed yet another fantastic meal, I paid the bill and parted ways with Kori, Xiu Dan and the boys. They headed back to the White Swan, I set out across the bridge, off Shamian Island and into the weird and wild world of Guangzhou.

Guangzhou -- formerly Canton -- was the first port in China to trade with the West, and it is still the heart of the Chinese economy. Today, Guangdong Province generates nearly 30% of China's annual gross domestic product. I'd suspect that most of my clothes, electronics and household accessories were made not far from here. Modern capitalism is alive and well on a massive scale in 'red' China.

The first part of this afternoon's adventure, however, took place on streets that look pretty much like I imagine they'd have appeared a century and a half ago. Exiting the island via a pedestrian bridge that crosses a thin strip of water and a wide city street, I found myself a few steps from a gigantic, 3-story herbal medicine market encompassing an entire city block. I spent a half hour or so wandering around, admiring the astonishing array of dried fruits, roots, animals, leaves and odd items whose origin and use I could only imagine.

There were literally thousands of products I'd never seen before; long stringy things, broad and flat scratchy things, things that looked chewy, things that looked scaly. I couldn't tell whether some of these substances were animal, vegetable or mineral, and wouldn't know whether to eat them, smoke them, rub them on my skin in a poultice or drink them as a tea.

The smells were equally unfamiliar ranging from mouthwatering to miasmic: meaty aromas from giant mobiles of long, oily jerkies, fresh herbal fragrances from huge sacks of dried chamomile and rose buds, heady musks from endless piles of star anise and ginseng mingled with the fetor of funky, freaky foodstuffs from worlds I've never imagined.

From there, I wandered into an old, old neighborhood -- the winding streets with ancient shops reminded me of some old version of China I've only seen in movies. The fortune tellers and curio shops of my imagined Canton have been replaced by little stores selling nuts and bolts and hinges and spools of wire; so many shops selling such odd assortments of products. One appeared to sell nothing but used faucets, another only stocked doorknobs.

Pressing further into the city, I stumbled upon a street selling all kinds of aquatic critters -- water snakes, turtles, crabs, spotted lobsters the size of my cat, frogs, water beetles -- and buckets upon buckets of live scorpions. There must be a huge market in China for live scorpions. Scorpions and padded bras -- they're on sale everywhere.

After a mile or so, I spotted a familiar but unwelcome sight: an immense McDonald's 'restaurant.' The McD's marked the entrance to a large pedestrian street lined with stores selling all sorts of clothes, none of which appealed to me. I have enough dress shirts, and I don't like the styles favored by Chinese youth. When one is my age, one doesn't look good in pastel t-shirts covered in English slogans like "Style. Fashion. Free. Fun." Nor am I in the market for another padded bra. I finally spotted a tea shop. I bought a couple of small teapots to prove that I had actually been shopping for three hours.

I walked for about 15 minutes looking for some familiar landmark that would lead me back to Shamian Island. I finally decided that I was completely lost and that Kori was probably wondering if I'd been Shanghaied. I flagged a taxi which drove for about 20 minutes before reaching Shamian Island and my hotel.

Returning to Shamian Island from the city is sort of like stepping off some turbo-charged escalator -- it takes a few moments to get one's bearings. Shamian really is beautiful, even if it doesn't seem very Chinese. We had a fantastic Thai dinner at a riverside restaurant tonight. We watched the sun set over the Pearl River, and enjoyed some great family time.

Tomorrow is our consulate appointment. Very serious stuff -- no cameras, no backpacks, no smiling -- but it's all just formalities. She's ours, and we're coming home on Saturday. 'Nuff said. If I have time and the weather permits, I'll try to retrace some of today's steps with a camera and a couple of lenses. The markets were cool, and the old streets are just dying to be photographed.