While I am walking through an underground market in Guilin, I suddenly realize that I am the only "white" face walking around in the sharp, unflattering, yellow light. Strangely enough, the only white face, but my language is written on all the T-shirts--English letters assembled in incomprehensible words that almost look like "America" or famous clothing brands, and strange words assembled in sentences that a native speaker wouldn't understand.
And then I see her--a woman with light, wavy, hair and big eyes--her facial features vaguely reflecting mine. And I see more of us--they are standing outside of every other store entrance--mannequins. Their frozen Caucasian features are the only ones in this place that echo mine. I realize my isolation--my tall stature, deep-set eyes, naturally lighter hair, large backpack, walking around slender, small, dark-haired Chinese young women and men who walk arm in arm slowly looking at clothing and shoes. My face blends only with the posters of models wearing the clothing being sold, and with those of the strange mannequins--frozen, prisoners of this underground market.
Completely creeped out, I walk quickly towards the exits surface again.
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3 comments:
A comment not on mannequins, but Guilin:
I went back to China this February/March, and must admit that while I find Shanghai dizzying and Guangzhou sepia-tinted, Guangxi will always be a special place to me as my [ancestral] family's home-province.
For over a decade I've been on-and-off obsessed with Guilin noodles -- the round, sproingy, and incredibly delicious culinary claim of the province. I'd love to learn to make them, but nobody home-makes them (they're cheap and ubiquitous enough to be a daily breakfast staple) and chefs guard their secrets closely.
I don't suppose you've come across any hints in your travels?
I didn't know your family was from Guangxi! It was so beautiful there!
And ditto that the noodles are delicious. I have no way to describe the different textures in Guangxi food, but that is one of the best.
I had those noodles for every other meal, they were so good and cheap. Do they really not tell the recipe to anyone? Who makes them then? And how come they are everywhere?!
I'm sure there are plenty of people who can make Guilin noodles sans the shenanigans of guarding their "secret sauce," which I guess in this case would be their secret broth.
It's just that I've never been back for a long enough duration beyond the onslaught of wining-and-dining relatives [minimum two weeks] to seek out such people with such knowledge.
The noodles are everywhere because the noodle shops that make them are everywhere. Noodle shops are everywhere because people who want to eat them are everywhere. Noodle-wanting people are everywhere because frankly the noodles are downright delicious.
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