Chapter 5: The environment

Day 3. At this point, I realize I’m basically boarding the marriage boat as soon as I step into my parents in law’s hometown.

I did step in their town. I did step in their yard. I went inside their house. I ate their food. I stole a candle that smelled awesome.

Now I think I’m deep to my knees into this. It’s funny how it feels.

My girlfriend’s mom giving her a massage after the long ride.

One of the biggest contrasts between Shanghai and my girlfriend’s hometown is the environment. The air quality is known to be one of the purest in the region, and although there was a bad cloud of pollution that came from the north west in the previous days, the night offered me a view of stars that I haven’t seen in years.

Aftermath of a crazy night.

The night also offered a ton of noise, coming from every direction.

Chinese invented the gunpowder, so they take pride of it and shove it in your face (ears?) through firecrackers and fireworks.

The tradition says that you have to scare away the old governor of the year (The Rabbit/Dragon/Pig, etc) and make even more noise to attract the new god into the year. This is the year of the Horse. I imagined they thought the horse was deaf, so they went overboard this year.

“What did he say?”

That was me. All the time.

Once you land in China for the first time, you are protected by an invisible shield. You can’t read, you can’t understand. You can’t listen, you can’t get it. You become aware of nothing other than your own thoughts. And maybe some ambient noise. Back home, it happens the opposite. You’re too busy processing the endless information being fed through radio, tv, billboards, signage, conversations, and so on.

The language barrier in China allows you to spend more time with your critical self. Most people go through this phase on their first year, and the effect usually vanishes after that period of time. Even if you don’t really learn mandarin Chinese, you most likely identify the basics of it, and suddenly your protection is gone. You know when they talk about you or when they tell you something important.

In my case, this trip reminded me of that same feeling. Suddenly, nothing sounded like mandarin. The local dialect made it impossible for me to have even the slightest clue of what was going on.

It was interesting. A bit scary, perhaps.

I relied a lot on my girlfriend to communicate, but this didn’t bring any trouble to our daily interactions with her family.

“The supermarket over there.”

-My Girlfriend

At some point during that week, my girlfriend, giving me a sly grin, took me to the supermarket.

This thing was located just one block away. One large block of wasteland.

The price of things here was enormously cheaper than I imagined. Coming here and buying everything we needed for 3 days, for less than 20 USD, was a big impact. It reminded me of the good old days in Ecuador, when food was cheap and safe.

Apple store. Not.

On our way back, we took an alternative route, with actual roads. She was trolling me when made me walk through the wasteland.

Turns out, this fake Apple Store sells cheap jackets and Chinese Pancakes in the morning. Street breakfast.

Back alley of one of the houses near the old river.

Days after we arrived. I was no longer a newcomer. I was feeling a lot more connected to the experience I was living. I enjoyed the walks, the streets, the humidity of the stores and places that use water vapor to heat up the air and moisturize the skin (?), I enjoyed the oranges, the powdered milk in my improvised coffee mug, the quietness of the early mornings, while everybody else seemed to be sleeping, the magic aroma of a clean, new house, in contrast to the old moldy scent of ancient places.

This guy was angry as hell.

I did miss my friends. I did miss Shanghai a little bit. I missed my own apartment and my cat. I found a little cat inside a kitchen, and I went in with my fuji trying to get a shot of him. He ran away, but I still managed to get a capture of the moment.

I realized I was back into my roots. Walk around. Be amazed. Take a photo. Write a story.

Back in Shanghai, I’m often too busy trying to solve things and I forget how beautiful a place can be. If I strip down all the neon lights, the sky scrappers, the fancy cars and motorbikes, the clubs, the stores, the supermarkets and cellphones, I end up with a very natural and honest version of what excites me the most: Reality.

And a panda on drugs.

Big cities are full of fake people and buildings. The more you show, the more your perceived wealth is. The more you talk, the more assertive you’re taken for. The tallest the building is, the higher the rent becomes (despite the fact you can’t see shit on a polluted day).

Take all of that away, and you’re basically in middle of a small place, full of people who live their day-to-day doing very humbling, human things.

They might not be considered wise, or incredibly intellectual, but oh boy, they have forgotten more than I will ever learn.