Yesterday we explored the Qingping market, a narrow tunnel crammed with stalls selling the usual dried fish and vegetables and something that might have been seaweed. This led to the meat and fish section, where animals were sold cut in half, hearts still beating. There were also turtles, puppies, kittens, rabbits, squirrels, monkeys, frogs, snakes, lemurs, an opossum-like creature and a curious weasel/badger thing as well as ducks and chickens, all in little wire cages stacked up on top of each other and we mourned their woebegone eyes and sad fate.
“That’s really disgusting,” Hamish said.
“Shh, not so loud.”
“Why are you shushing me? Don’t shush me. They can’t understand me anyway, and even if they could it would be good for them to hear how other people feel. Some of these animals are rare, maybe even endangered.”
I steered us away from the food area. I agreed with Hamish it’s hard not to pass judgement on things that seem awful to our eyes. I mean, who wouldn’t find the idea of eating kitten crushing?
At the edges of the market we saw several people that looked different from those in the streets. Their cheekbones were higher and more prominent, faces darker and rounder. They were dressed in bright red coats and fur hats, played juggling games with sticks and small balls, and sold animal skulls and bear paws. Mongolians? Tibetans? Both places embroiled in conflict with the current Chinese Government. Locals gave them ugly looks and avoided coming near them.
Hamish asks me about Canada a lot these days. He never showed any interest in going before but now he wants to climb mountains and ford rivers. And visit Las Vegas.
“Why are Brits so enamoured of Las Vegas?”
“It sounds so bizarre, like nowhere else on Earth. I have to get there to see it for myself.”
"Well it's in the States, not Canada, so you'd need to pack an overnight bag"
"What are the highlights of Canada then?"
"Mountains, prairies, seas, rocks, plants, ice, sun, rain."
"Not cities? Not people?"
"Some of the cities are beautiful - Montreal, Quebec, and of course my hometown Vancouver. There are some great towns - Nelson, Maple Creek, Whitehorse, Kenora, Perce, Lunenburg. I've not been to the high North yet so don't know about that. According to general opinion the most interesting Canadians seem to either have died or have left to live somewhere else."
“Canadians are so cute with their low self-esteem and majestic landscapes.”
“Huh, ” I say, “Fine if you like hearing every statement said like it’s a question.”
“Yeah right, eh?”
“Good, your inflection is improving. You’ll be able to wear a plaid shirt with pride before you know it.”
“You mean tartan, wee lassie.”
“No, I mean plaid you fool,” as I threw a pillow at him laughing. "I probably know more about Scottish history than you’ve had hot haggis.”
Easy to joke but I was quite glad to leave off talking about Canada. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back yet. I need it to be on my terms, not just because someone else wants to see Las Vegas and the Rocky Mountains.
The air is sticky with humidity in Guangzhou. We take respite from heat and crowds at temples. My favourite is the Temple of the Six Banyan Trees, actually several buildings in a sort of courtyard with golden Buddhas smiling calmly. We thought climbing the Pagoda of Flowers’ 17 floors would be hot work, but it was actually cool inside the stone tower. From the top Guangzhou stretched out as an endless sea of gray, the great view an oddly depressing sight. The smell of smog gets to you and I leaned over an incense stick to breathe in its perfume, but I got too close I guess, because next I heard a sizzle and Hamish leaped up, battled my head with his hands and hurled a nearby bowl of water in my face. I looked at him in shock and found everyone in the tower staring at me and prattling in horror. It seems my hair had caught on fire and caused a minor sensation. Thank goodness Hamish is a man of action. I hadn’t felt a thing, but as I smoothed out my hair a lot of it came out in smelly, blackened hunks. Hamish passes off his heroism by wondering aloud whether or not the bowl had actually contained water.
Night transforms this city and even the polluted river looks beautiful and mysterious in reflecting paths of light. 'Kissing couples' come out. Or at least that’s what we call them. Couples are always smooching in public places, presumably because there is so little room indoors with large families sharing living quarters. Tai chi practitioners also emerge as do shady fellows whispering ‘change money’ in a sort of rhythmic mantra. Restaurants open with their little cages of kittens, puppies and snakes out front, a sort of ‘choose your own dinner’ option. We avoid any possibility of accidentally ordering Fluffy or Spot by sticking to vegetables and rice.
“Thank God there’s beer,” Hamish says. I’ve never seen someone put away so much of the stuff. Two or three big bottles with every meal. Another as a between meal snack. One more at bedtime. “I’ve got to keep my strength up” is his response to my no doubt pointed looks. Beer makes him snore.One night after ambitious sex, we lay apart in the dark, looking up at the ceiling, not at all ready for sleep, and started talking about things from our childhood.
“What on earth attracts you to go-karting?” I asked him after he had told me of this boyhood passion.
“Another thing you spend an inordinate amount of time on.”
“No more than you and your maps and books.”
“But they give your mind something to do.”
“And your body absolutely nothing to do.”
“Hmm.”
After a pause he surprised me. “I was in a play once.”
I rolled over to face him, even though I could only see his outline in the dark. “Really? You never told me.”
“Och aye.”
I pinched his nose. “Don’t start that again. When? What play?”
“The Three Sisters. By Chekov. In university. My roommate was in it and got me to go along and help out.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. What part do you play?”
“Lamp carrier.”
“What?”
“I got to carry the lamp on, and then carry it off.”
“You were a props guy?”
“Not just any prop. The lamp.”
“What was so special about the lamp?”
“It was worth 100 pounds.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what the director said. ‘This lamp is on loan and is worth 100 pounds.’ After he told everyone how much the lamp was worth, no one else wanted to touch it."
“But you did.”
“I took the risk and was entrusted with a lamp worth 100 pounds. That’s got to count for something.”
“So your contribution to the cultural world is on record.”
“Yes, but I never met a bigger group of snobs. I never stayed to watch the play or anything. As soon as my job was done I left for the pub. Theatre and opera and all that muck. It’s so pretentious. Everyone who’s interested in that stuff thinks they are better than anyone else. Give me a good West Ham-Arsenal match-up anyday.
“Do you think I’m a snob then, for liking ‘theatre and opera and all that muck’?”
“No, you are ok, as long as you don’t make me go to that bullshit.”
“You mean never?”
“I don’t want to be in the company of such patronizing prats. That play you took me too was the worst experience in my life.”
“Ok I admit that taking you a Bertoldt Brecht for your first play was not a good idea. But not everyone interested in the arts is a snob. Just like not everyone interested in soccer is a hooligan. There are all sorts of snobbishness. You are seeing it from the outside.”
“It’s a class thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Rubbish.” I lay on my back again. “What is it with the Brits and their obsession with the class system? If you don’t like something that’s fine. Once you’ve tried it that is. But if you won’t do something or think you can’t do something only because of some vague notion that it is above or below your station in life, well that’s ridiculous.”
“Not everyone is like you perfect Canadians. Can you wonder why I was ok to leave Scotland? You can come in and do what you want because the class system doesn’t touch you. People don’t judge your intelligence because of your accent.”
“And who cares if they do? Can they stop you from doing what you want? Who gives them the power? Judging people before finding out their character is a form of prejudice pure and simple. We live in a multicultural society, and that means living with different aspects of cultures as well as colour and race.”
“For the average Brit. multiculturalism means eating Chinese food on Friday night and an Indian curry on Saturday.”
“That’s not multicultualism. That a complete lack of culture at all.”
“Exactly. It’s a country that still thinks it’s top of the heap, only it’s a heap of rotting old phobias.”
“If I were to say something like that I’d be chastised as an ignorant foreigner.”
“Well, I live in a country that proudly exerts the double standard.”
Hamish sounded rueful. I didn’t know what to say after that and felt terrible. I had only wanted to know about go-karting.
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