|Going through the sections of the second phase of the Canton Fair and found this little gem.|
Ok, you saw this one already, but it requires some explaining. This is in Bao An where Zero was chauffering me around furniture outlets. This was the most industrial place I've seen yet in China. By the time we left, this highway was packed solid with big, standard blue Dong Feng trucks. Trucks and futuristic buses. China must have half the worlds buses. This highway could only be crossed every kilometer or so on a footbridge. And damn was it hot.
Still in Bao An. Blue is the IT color here.
Zero sitting on a remarkably cheap leather chair.
This is on the bus back from Bao An. Your standard Chinese bus scene. At rush hour you get to know your neighbors a little too well. Something about personal space. Closeness seems to be more acceptable here. Out of necessity perhaps. But it's not uncommon to have someone's leg against mine when I'm on the bus. Or when I'm out with Andy and his friends, we'll walk shoulder to shoulder. And we're not even drunk.
And finally... the gym guys. These guys work for the gym accross the street from Andy's. At any given time there are eight of them prowling the sidewalks. And every time I walk by them they accost me with skinny, glossy fliers saying "gym, gym." Literally everytime. And since I have to walk through these guys whenever I come and go from Andy's, I get this a half dozen times a day. And they'll follow you for a while too. They're persistent. I started approaching them before they could approach me, and I'd flex and be like "wo bu young." I don't need the gym. Which made them laugh... but didn't stop them. But, I guess after I took this picture, we're like 'boy's' now. If you know what I'm saying. And now they just smile and say hello when I pass.
And, "yes" for the last time, I wear glasses.
I went to the toy fair with Andy and his friend, Zero, the other day. People pick the strangest names here. Another friend of Andy's, whom I had dinner with a couple of nights ago, is named Johnson. As a first name. I explained to him that Johnson means dick. Mind you that we were sitting with a number of people -- most of us having just met -- and that there are certain sensitivities here that we don't have. I think I embarrassed the guy. He took it in stride and was able to make the obvious joke out of it. Andyway... oh, did you know that most foreigners take Long as their Chinese name. Long means dragon. Bruce Lee was something something Long. Jackie Chan is something Long. And that all sounds pretty cool, until you realize that there are a bunch of white guys walking around name Frank Dragon, who probably who probably paid thousands of dollars to go to the Shaolin monastery to get their black belts. Then that sounds less cool. Or perhaps I'm just trying to carve a "legitimate" niche as a Sinophile. So I suggested to Andy that my name be tiger which is like "Hou" or some such and sounds like House anyway. But he said that no one is named tiger, so I guess it's like calling yourself Johnson.
Anyway, more pictures...
Andy and Zero.
A view from Andy's balcony one morning.
File this under: WTF? I was out in... where was I? Somewhere far. Perhaps in LouHu. It was supposed to be a furniture district. I found a very gaudy furniture mall with rather expensive and notably bad coffee, and a B&Q. B&Q I had been meaning to visit for a while. It's the Chinese, or perhaps elsewhere, equivilant to Home Depot. In fact if it's not a legally related, then they are ripping them off, like so much else here. Ok, where am I going, yes, so I was walking down this street. And I saw this thing. There.
File this under: Deeep.
This is Bao An where I was looking at some furniture outlets. More descriptions and pictures to come...
|So, this is the artist "village" factory that I was talking about. A place geared for producing, reproducing European and Chinese art en masse. Every store front is a gallery, above which there are apartment buildings housing the artists. And this goes on for blocks -- as far as the eye can see.|
This is the first thing I saw, coming into DaFen. Pretty cool.
This is the reverse. Most of the action is happing here. All of these buildings. Really.
This is the stuff I really like. I forget this guy's name. But he's a classic Chinese myth(?). He keeps the bad ghosts away. So people get this guy and put him in their bedrooms.
Except, as I walk around Andy's place I see no chinese calligraphy hanging on the walls. I see no classical water colors of mythological guys. While we were at DaFen, Andy kept on pushing theses European oil reproductions. Like we should sell them in the states. And I tried to explain to him that they're corny. And that only Chinese people and swanky American hotels would buy this stuff. Just as I like these Chinese water colors. We have funny iedeas about each other's cultures.
This would require some explaining. I need to get to bed, but it's in a place called Da Fen. And it's one of tens of thousands of paintings in this painting factory "village." But in my mind, it's only rival is the painting of Putin.
This is where the masses come when they first arrive in Shenzhen. These are the job postings.
Your guess is as good as mine. You really got to click on it to read the text on top. And that's where the magic is.
Peace be with you.