Artist's village and Walking Street

Now that I have a way out of a city that has turned out to be a not so
fun wandering, I decided to expand my sightseeing. Recalling Lonely
Planet's few destinations worth seeing in Shenzhen and realizing I had
already found a few of them along the bus 306 route I decided I would
venture back onto that bus. First stop would be Artists' Village, an
area occupied by artisans and with shops filled with art. I planned
all that while still disoriented from sleeping in my otherwise
comfortable cubicle.

Breakfasting on the 2nd floor patio showed that the weather
predictions might come true: the sky was overcast and the wind chilly
and moisture laden. Maybe I should consider something indoors to see
if the weather would clear up. I should have my hair done. That seemed
like a safe option and salons abound in this neighborhood where my
hotel is.

The salon I selected was staffed by an older male stylist who declared
at once that he could in fact transform my gray into deep auburn
tinged locks. To make a long story short: he did a FANTASTIC job! My
hair looks great, no lie. I have to admit, after the Uberblond
experiences of last year I was truly leery of entrusting my head to a
salon in China again. Thanks to this experiment I resolve that good
hair care is possible, as long as I go to a salon away from campus
where there are experienced techs.

One thing of interest came of this experience, other than having great
looking hair: the stylist's son goes to school in Wuhan! At a college
just down the road from mine, he is majoring in Economics. Like every
other student in China he is required to learn English, so when my
Chinese language skills faltered his parents - the stylist and the
cashier, called him into duty to translate. When we found out we are
neighbors in the same city everyone in the salon visibly relaxed and
conversation flowed. The boy and I exchanged contact information and I
invited him to our campus for any English activities we might have.

Thrilled with my new hair and bolstered by these friendly natives -
well, transplants... Like everyone else living here, they are not
originally from Shenzhen, I hit the streets. A quick lunch consisting
of an egg and spinach wrap, bought from a street vendor and some
mandarin oranges purchased from the fruit stand next to him in my
hands, I headed to a nearby park bench to enjoy my feast. It seems the
weather decided to break and the sun was peeking through what was left
of the clouds. Hunger abated, it was time for Artist's Village.

Every building is colorful. Greens, red, orange and blue welcomed me
into the neighborhood. At the start of the village is a large plaza,
dominated by a large, official looking building. Said building was
closed, as I discovered most shops were, presumably for the holiday.
There were not many people out and about either. That suited me fine;
I didnt' want a bunch of crowds to compete with.

Quickly, rather too quickly I coursed the entire village: main
throughfare, alleyways and all. I had to be missing something; I could
feel it. I meandered slowly down the last lane and hazarded a look
over my right shoulder, down an alley. There it was.

At the end of this alley stood an ancient building, the only one in
the village. According to Lonely Planet this is the last vestige of
the formerly exisiting fishing village, and indeed it was on a creek.
It apparently had been recently renovated and currently housed a
gallery. Sadly I was not allowed to take pictures, even of the
structure, while I toured the inside but I did get pictures of the
outside. I'll post them when I get back to Wuhan. For now the
important thing is to transcribe my notes. I have no less than 8 pages
of notes to write about. Not too shabby for a non-tourist attractive
town, is it?

Now satisfied that I've seen everything relevant in Artists' Village I
headed back toward town to take in Walking Street. Known as Dong Men -
literally East Gate, it throbs with throngs of people. At least, that
is what I've seen when riding past it. And, Lonely Planet said it was
one of the few must sees while here.

Well, if Lonely Planet says so...

It is in fact a hyper crowded shopping complex. People everywhere!
Bargains boldly advertised! Smells of food and sounds of blaring
techno music! I walked through two of the main throughfares... well,
more like I was carried through with the tide.

My good humor was fast dissipating. This is truly not my scene. There
are no gentle street market vendors here. No courtesies and no
exchanges of goodwill. There is loud, progressive selling. There is an
abundance of merchandise piled on the floor for people to paw through
and find bargains with. There are trendy people with the latest
hairstyles, pretty boys and fashionable girls. There are more people
than I want to encounter during a single outing, let alone the last
exploration of the day.

As soon as I could I made my way out of the maze of noise and people,
back to the main road. Instead of waiting for the bus at the attendant
stop I walked uphill for two stops, so as to not have to fight to
board the bus. I was back at the hotel by 5PM, long before dark and
way before I had to worry about being out after dark alone, as per
Lonely Planet's warning.

All in all it was a nice day with one or two happy surprises - the
hair and the ancient building being the surprises in question.
However, those two nice events were balanced out by two not so
pleasant ones: the monkeys and the woman who lost her son. As soon as
she realized her child had gone missing she ran around, pawing people
aside and screaming for her child: "My son! My son! Who has seen my
son?" She brushed past me, unseeing. I felt terrible for her. If I had
seen her son I surely would have helped her. Other people commenting
on her did see her son but perhaps could not help. As I could not help
either I got out of her way.

For some reason the Chinese find animal cruelty amusing. I found that
out at the zoo last year. This monkey show was no different. Three
monkeys on leashes, the owner whipping them for discipline, the
monkeys hissing. People ringing the show, laughing. The monkey
torturer tied one monkey's hands behind his back and put a blindfold
over its eyes, and then leveled a gun and shot it - a toy gun, and not
'for real' shot it. The monkey, being well trained, flopped onto its
face without even its hands to break the fall. I was disgusted but the
rest of the crowd was amused. Please note that I saw the show in
passing; I did not stay and watch.

Other than those two unpleasant events it was a nice day. I spent the
evening on the hotel's patio, comfortable, warm and sheltered from the
rain that did finally materialize.