We were warned by several English colleagues that many goods and services would not be available over the (Chinese) New Year holiday. A lot of people take 1-2 weeks off during this time and travel to be with family. This results in a temporary shut down of stores, factories, schools, restaurants, etc. Today we ventured out into the cold to stock up on necessities -- TP, water, coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese, potatoes, baked beans, and bourbon (a.k.a. "survival food"). Our quest came with a heavy price, though: we were subjected to more chaos and filth today than during all of our other days here combined.
The streets and stores were packed. And the grocery store -- well, I'm still a bit faint from the experience. You know how busy and chaotic US grocery stores are the day before Christmas or Easter (or, heck, the Super Bowl)? Well, lemme just tell you: You ain't seen nothin'.
First, to even get into the store, we had to by wily and quick. Cars were everywhere, driving wherever they wanted (on the sidewalk, in the bike lane, in the wrong lane). We saw one woman, down on the pavement in front of a car, apparently hit by the vehicle. The beggar brigade was out in full force, too. Today there was a new guy; one of his legs was mottled and swollen, and a palm-sized open wound adorned it. When we passed him, he was cleaning the wound with a cotton swab and trying to solicit money from passersby.
Once we were in the store itself, we had to wait around for a bit before we could even snag a shopping cart. Once we secured one, it was a battle just to maneuver it around the aisles. "Traffic" was at a complete standstill in most aisles. And rather than say, "excuse me" and try to wiggle their way through, our fellow shoppers just used their carts as battering rams to bust through blockages. There were no fights, but I half-expected one to break out at any moment.
The produce section was especially brutal. There, I had to muscle my way to the produce I wanted, bag it while protecting my two inches of floor space from poachers, and then fight my way to the produce weighing counter. Once I was at the counter where my produce would be weighed and priced, I had to simultaneously push my way forward to get to the scale and fight off "cutters" -- people trying to elbow their way in front of me. It was more like a rugby scrum than a line -- not a surprise given the Chinese disaffection for "queuing up." By the time I'd managed to get my produced weighed and priced, I felt like I'd survived 10 rounds in the Thunderdome.
We also got an extra helping of what we "public bodily fluid" sightings. In China, bodily fluids -- and the processes for making them external to the body -- are public activities. For example, we saw several people engaged in what I am convinced is the most beloved pastime in this country: exuberant nose picking. I've written before about this topic, but two sights today awed me:
1. One the crowded bus, a five-year old (or thereabouts) sat on his mother's lap, facing her. First she cleaned his ears out, using her forefinger as a cleaning tool. Then she set to work on his nose. Pick, pick, pick. Flick, flick, flick. (He was spared the indignity of a "spit bath" -- but maybe that's just a U.S. thing. . .)
2. In the dairy case at the grocery store, there is a mirrored panel next to the cheese. As we approached the case, we watched a man excavating the contents of his nasal passages, using the mirrored panel to help him see what he was doing. He was taking great pains and sustained effort go get every little crumb, and at one point he had both forefingers in his nose at the same time, one for each nostril. Needless to say, I selected packages of cheese that were at the wwwaaaaayyyyy back of the cheese case.
3. And then, of course, were the less spectacular nose-pickers -- like the woman in line in front of us at the checkout -- who just casually picked and flicked. Her efforts were very modest; she didn't even go up to the first knuckle.
We also were treated to a fun game that we sometimes get to play here: Dodge the River of Urine. As I've mentioned before, parents here train their children to just pee wherever they happen to be. Babies don't wear diapers, they have these split bottomed pants instead. So, when they have to go, they just squat down and go (or are held by their parents while they go). Today we saw an older female child -- maybe 7 -- drop trou and let loose on the sidewalk. I had to do a quick two step to avoid the Niagara-like run-off. I don't know how old kids have to be before they use public toilets, but some men, apparently, never learn; it's pretty common here to see men of all ages urinating in public.
Add to this all the lovely smells of our town (sewer fumes, cigarette smoke, B.O., exhaust fumes) and the sounds of everyone coughing up loogies, and by the time we got back to our compound, I was ready to douse myself with hand-sanitizer or maybe just take a refreshing shower in Clorox Bleach.
Some days this stuff just strikes me as funny. Other days, like today, it's just flat nasty.*
* NOTE: "Flat nasty" is a bit of slang that we picked up from D's cousin Tad. I can't find an official definition for it, but when D's cousin used it, it basically meant "flat (out) nasty" -- i.e., this thing is just so foul/gross/nasty that it couldn't be any fouler/grosser/nastier. I'm sure this definition doesn't get at the subtlety of the phrase, but you get the idea. I encourage you to incorporate it into your daily lexicon. It's surprisingly useful -- and fun to say!
