At the university where I taught, a short and convenient two-minute walk from my apartment building, were a number of small business establishments that catered to the students and staff of the university and nearby hospital community. There were three or four restaurants, a couple of beauty salons, two bookstores, places where one could purchase phone cards or sign up for cell phone plans, purchase DVDs, and the like.

Most important to me were the three or four grocery stores that had limited but key stocks of food, snacks and drink, and which also sold essential home items -- mops, brooms, pails, clothing and dish detergents, and so on. They even carried over-the-counter medicines for those occasional days of indisposition, and would sell individual quantities to save the customer money.

Soon after my arrival on campus, my supervisor, who also lived in a nearby apartment, pointed to one of the shops as we passed by and commented to me, "This is where you should buy all the things you need. She is a good person. The other shopkeepers may try to overcharge you, but she is a very honest lady."

It's amazing how that description stuck with me for the two years I lived there. In fact I never knew her name, even though I felt she and her husband had become close friends of mine thanks to a combination of my frequent visits and their sense of entertainment as I tried to express myself in broken Cantonese each time I walked in.

They will never know it, but "Honest Lady" and her forever smiling, diligent husband will always be in my fondest memories of that period of my life. In the last week of my stay, a friend communicated to them that I was leaving, and I sensed a real disappointment in their faces as they received the news. I never really said a formal good-bye, but I know they will smile if I ever walk into their convenient little store again. I miss them a lot.

One Guangzhou feature that is quite famous is the shopping -- and quite frankly, I miss it! As the city (dating back to when it was called Canton) has always been known as a trading center, this aspect apparently has never left the core personality of what is now a burgeoning south China metropolis.

Even though I never considered myself much of a shopper before my arrival there in October of 2002, it didn't take me long to become an avid fan of the myriad variety of things the city has to offer for sale.  Perhaps it was the novelty of bargaining (or haggling) for anything I wanted to buy that changed me into a devotee -- as this practice is reserved in America to flea markets and online auctions. But in Guangzhou, I would often revel in finding and securing a good price for something I had my eye on.  That was enough to make my bus ride home full of happiness -- just knowing I got a really good deal on something.  Unfortunately, all too often my enthusism was turned upside down when I soon realized the item was defective, or didn't hold up to the increased scrutiny I would give purchases in the privacy of my home -- as we all do.

A couple of my favorite haunts included the weekend flea market near the Gong Yuan Qian subway station, similar used and new goods at the Haiyin electronics market, food and dry goods along Yide Lu, stationary wholesalers near the Huangsha subway station, handbag and other leather products wholesalers along Guangyuanxi Road, and especially the watch wholesalers behind the Guangzhou train station on ZanXi Road.  Oh, the many glorious hours I spent in all those places, browsing, dreaming and often bargaining for something I really didn't need after all.  But that's the joy of shopping, right?

Further to my earlier mention of a couple of things I really miss about my living experience in Guangzhou (being noticed and the food), let me add here the dining experience itself. While the ambience of most Cantonese restaurants is anything but quiet and intimate, the use of large round tables is particularly well-suited to the healthy social nature of going out to eat. Instead of sitting across from someone at a Western-style square or rectangualr table, which in and of itself implies a certain definable space to be selfishly protected or defended at all odds, the round table is an unspoken invitation to cordiality, sharing, and gregarioius dining. It's like a party, and when things get really crowded, a large heavy glass lazy susan in the center of the table will assure that everyone seated around the table has equal access to the delicacies it supports (with total control for the one spinning the food-laden wheel-of-fortune).

The noise of people talking at inhumanely loud decibel levels (Cantonese is not a quiet language), children making themselves totally obnoxious as only children everywhere can do, and the ubiquitous wall-hung TV sets blaring out the latest soap opera installments all contribute to an atmosphere of chaos to the uninitiated observer. But once you get used to it, the din becomes one of excitement, and quite appropriate to the scrumptious food that arrives soon after it is ordered, ready to be attacked (oops, I mean shared) by the perpetually ravenous diners. It's a veritable circus of activity, and a kind of fun to be part of that I would give my eye tooth to be enjoying again right now. 

(...to be continued...)

It has been ten months now since I left Guangzhou on a sweltering August night, one of the earliest departing air passengers from the new International Airport. While I certainly do not miss the sub-tropical temperatures and accompanying humidity, the throngs of people in the streets and stores, the motorcycles competing with pedestrians on the sidewalks and the like, there is a growing list of things I really do miss about living and working in that bustling metropolis. This blog entry will not be an attempt to cover them all, as many of the things that pop into mind come spontaneously in an ongoing dynamic. Let me just mention a couple for now, with additional entries to come later on.

From a selfish, purely egotistical standpoint, I really miss being the center of attention.  Oh sure, it could be annoying to have people stare at me in buses and subways if they did it for too long, but being seen as something unusual, even if only as some strange alien being (I think they call it "gwai lo" ) is a lot preferable to being ignored, which is about how people of my age (and, sigh, girth) are perceived back here in America. Walking around my Guangzhou university campus, it was always heartening to have students shout hello from afar, or to have them run up to me to practice their English conversation vocabulary. It made me feel downright wanted.

Another aspect I really miss is, of course, the food and the overall dining experience in this food-oriented culture. I soon grew enthusiastic about Cantonese cuisine, with additional forays into the spicy Sichuan style offerings, and found myself making a mental list of favorites very early on in my two-year tenure. I loved nearly all those yum cha (飲茶) delicacies -- the buns, the dumplings from other parts of China (餃子), and the especially the la chang.  The congees were for me an acquired taste over time, and once I began to enjoy them (particularly the pork and preserved egg variety), they became a staple of my China diet, especially on those chilly winter evenings.  (....to be continued...)