In the city of Guangzhou

Think that I have just come off a 16 hour flight some 16 hours before, I had not been able to sleep a wink the previous night, and I am standing in a bustling city center of a strange place. And I was not tired one bit! Why? Perhaps it was all of the coffee everyone was shoving down my throat. Perhaps it was the excitement in finally realizing a dream of going to China. What ever the reason, I was eager to get lost in Chinese life. Let me break the news to you. I did not get lost in Chinese life. What I got were stares and giggles and sometimes outright laughter from all around. Even the gay guys had something to say to me (what it was, I don't know). The city was something to see. It was filled to the brim with people. People on bikes, people on scooters, people in taxis, people in luxury cars, and masses and masses of people on foot. This was a Thursday, mind you, and there were more people than rush hour in New York City. Everyone in Guangzhou owns a factory or shop or restaurant or just a whole in the wall. The entrepreneur spirit is high here....or maybe it's just a matter of survival. There is cooking in the walkways. Things I don't even want to know what they are. My guide in my next destination would later tell me that they cook up dog and cat on a regular basis. Some of the smells were gastronomically corrosive to my stomach. I can think of no better words to describe them. And there is a pervading odor; In the buildings, streets, on the people, everywhere. It is the smell of China. Perhaps its one of their spices, but I will say it takes a little getting used to.

You will be disappointed that I didn't take many pictures at this point, but please understand it wasn't due to my not wanting. I admit to being a little self conscious. You see, while everyone is staring and grinning, I was trying not to draw any more attention to myself. You know, blend in with the Asian people around me. So I figured if I didn't act like a tourist they wouldn't see my dark skin and kinky hair and they would think I was one of them. So I kept my camera in my pocket for the most part. But some pictures were taken. I will try to be more brave in the next city. Unfortunately my ploy didn't work. Street peddlers from kilometers around sought me out (I think the carrot juice people told them I was in town) offering me "great deal" on many things: cell phones, watches, bags, etc... See, all Americans have a boatload of money that they do not know what to do with. Did I fall for this grand marketing scheme of the Chinese? NO! .....Well, except for the leather laptop bag. And the two watches. Sigh. But I didn't buy the phone for 650 yuan the guy with the bad teeth was trying to sell me. One has to draw the line somewhere. Even if he did need the money to get his teeth fixed. The guy gave me the Chinese finger. You can't please them all.

I was determined to do something the way the natives do, despite my apparently very obvious tattoo that said, "jerk me". I was getting hungry, so I sought to eat the way the Chinese eat (minus the doggy and kitty parts). I found the smallest hole-in-the-wall place I could find and entered. Every face turned to meet mine. I was offered the only remaining seat in the back. Here I go. The menu was in Chinese so I asked for assistance. No one could assist. Once again I look at the menu with no pictures. Finally they call the young girl who speaks English. You see, every place has this young girl who knows English. Now, whether or not she actually can speak English is highly debatable, but they seem to think she can. It is always a girl and she is almost always a teenager, maybe early 20's. So, the young girl asks what I want and I ask her to recommend something. She looks blankly at me. I try again, more descriptively. Again, a blank stare and then a nervous laugh. It seems the only English this girl knew was, "Wat do ya want". Ok, Jimmy, what to do. I quickly spot an adjacent table where a woman is eating something that looks unoffensive. I very slowly ask for noodles and vegetables. After much repeating and pointing we finally agree on what I will eat. 5 minutes later comes the meal. What happens in the next 10 minutes is fodder for many classic comical moments. It seems Chinese noodles are one long 3 mile strand of noodle. Eating them is an art form. It should be a skilled trade. All I was given was a spoon. Try and try as I may, I could not get the noodles to stay in my spoon. Of course everyone in the place is looking to see what I will do. Finally after a minute or two of fiddling, I ask young girl for a fork. "Fok?" I write it down. FORK. She nods her head. Finally another woman comes out with some chop sticks. Oh great, let's pile the humiliation on shall we?

Now it just so happens that on my plane ride from America to Tokyo, I met a man who was traveling to Korea for his daughter's wedding. He is married to a Korean woman. He was then off to Taiwan to teach a medical class. Now what is so important about this story, is that this man had children that he taught to use chop sticks and while we were eating on the plane, in just 30 seconds, he taught me in the most effective way how to manage the tricky utensils. I had been trying for years to learn this and all it took is just a moment on a plane with this gentlemen. We talked a lot about many things, but never exchanged names. Too bad. But thank you, sir.

Anyways, with my newfound skill with the choppers, I went to work on my noodles, slowly winding and winding and shoving in my mouth and breaking them with my fingers, much to the amusement of my audience. Now I was really having fun. What was funny was watching this old couple in the corner as they were observing me eat. It seems as if they were encouraging me with their eyes. It must have been like watching a circus; a black man in an expensive suite in 90 degree weather clumsily slurping down noodles while speaking some unintelligible language. You would think I would be so embarrassed. Far from it. I was having the time of my life. It was so much fun to learn and experience this new thing. And I have contributed to the entertainment value of Chinese culture for right now there are many families sitting over the dinner table in China telling the story of the strange American who stopped by to eat at the restaurant. The rest of my day was spent walking. And walking. And more walking. I walked down streets and alleys and through parks where old men were playing this strange game and young people were playing badminton and other sports, and I walked through the subways and malls until I finally found a very familiar and welcome place: Starbucks! Finally, I could get online and read email and start my blog. So my first blog entry was created in that very Starbucks and I stayed there and people watched for hours.

Starbucks is the only American chain in China that I have encountered that is exactly the same as in America. The same hip jazz, wall art, and yes, espresso. It was not altered for the Chinese market in any discernible way. So, as you would expect, the people who hang out there are a little different than the average Chinese. They seemed cooler, more beautiful, more trendy and educated. And they didn't stare. They barely even recognized I was there. It felt like home. I didn't want to leave my Starbucks, but my plush hotel awaited. I flagged a cab. We argued awhile over where I really wanted to go, and 106 yuan later, I was in my hotel. It was 7 o'clock at night, I had not slept since I arrived in Guangzhou, and my feet were aching. But I was happy. And the sun went down and the moon arose, and so ended the first day.