Are we ever really lost?

We know roughly where we are, be it a city, region or country. We are on the earth, from that point of view we’re not lost at all. We have a place within the cosmos. I have been lost, literally and figuratively. Much of my time is now spent trying to get lost.

But you just asked if we’re ever really lost?

Who’s that? Shut up. Don’t interrupt.

As long as I know which way is north and I have a rudimentary map I can find what I’m looking for. Eventually. Knowing the compass points is key. When I first arrived at my digs in China I was confused. I had no idea where north was. It was good my faith (or total lack there of) didn’t involve facing Mecca. After discovering north, navigating my new world became easier.

New world? Are you Columbus? North? Oliver North?

Shut up.

I was lost, really lost, only once. On a cold, rainy October afternoon some friends and I went hiking. After reaching our destination, the remains of an old uranium mine, we started back. One friend decided on a short cut. His error in judgment led to hours of walking in the rain, wading through beaver ponds, and generally being miserable. It wasn’t a bad place to be lost, it was bordered on four sides by roads and the area was about 18 square kilometers. We would have been found before DNA was needed to identify our remains.

I learned lessons that day. Most involved stupidity, listening to others, and always carrying a compass. None of those have translated into my urban, Chinese, existence.

I stray from the path. A straight line between Point A and B is boring. There are too many alleys to explore along the way. I’m never really lost, I know what city I’m in and my approximate location on a map. I’ll never have to worry about resorting to cannibalism if lost in China as I would in the Canadian wilds. Many varieties of street food are widely available.

If I hadn’t had strayed from the path I never would have found Nui Xiang (translated: cow path) and the mailbox covered wall (above). Getting lost has advantages.

originally published: November 26, 2007

I wanted to shoot Shamian Island in Guangzhou. I’d been there before, briefly, at night. Guangzhou, capital of Guangdong Province, China, is only 90 minutes from my place in Shenzhen – a quick trip.

Usually, I take the first bus to Guangzhou, leaving at 6:30 and arriving at 8:00. There’s still a little bit of morning light to play with. I hummed and hawed that morning and didn’t leave until 7:45. By the time I arrived in the former-Canton it was hot:  I-think-I-may-melt sort of hot.

I jumped on the Guangzhou Metro and got off at the Huangsha stop. After navigating a construction zone and an overpass I crossed the fabled bridge onto the former French and British concession.

I walked the narrow streets, sweating, and looked at the manses and the people. Older folks moved with fluid slowness in a park by the Pearl River, doing their morning Tai Chi. Small groups of dancers practiced the Cha Cha as music played from boom boxes. Shamian Boulevard is the island’s main east-west thoroughfare. The road’s center strip changes over its length. Small parks, playground equipment, and fountains, can be found in the Boulevard center.

One block of Victorian buildings was being renovated. I drifted over, camera in hand. I knelt and captured a few images. I heard a voice while wiping the sweat from my face (and the back of my camera).

“Hello!”

The young man, in his 20s, was jacked. The first thing I noticed was his pecs. After a year of bench presses I was nowhere close to being that big.  I was envious, his physique was unusual for a Chinese male. He had put in some time at the gym. His entire upper body bulged with muscles. He was shirtless and sweatless.

The “hello” had been gruff, more of an order than a greeting. I took in his size, considered his voice, and wondered if I might be in trouble. No, not on Shamian Island. There were hundreds of people around, a tourist area. Notwithstanding, my hand held my Canon 40D a little tighter.

“I want to practice my English,” he said. It wasn’t a request but a command.

“Sure,” I replied, a nervous smile on my face.

“I want to go to America and play basketball with American boys.”

“You like basketball?” Silly question. It may be genetic or an additive in the rice: All of China’s young men like basketball. The WWE is gaining a foothold in China but the likes of Triple-H and The Edge overtaking Kobe Bryant in popularity is a long way off.

“Yes. Where are you from?”

“Canada, near Toronto.”

“Raptors. Chris Bosh,” he said. There was a hint of a smile on his face, he wasn’t nearly as gruff.

I haven’t followed basketball since coming to China in 2005. Other than a few superstars I know few players in the NBA.

“I used to like Vince Carter,” I opined. I wiped my face again. I was sweating from the moist heat and nerves.

“That was long ago,” he said.

I nodded.

“Who do you like?” I asked.

He rhymed off players and teams. I nodded faux-wisely.

“My oral English is very poor since I finished college,” he said.

“No, it’s quite good.”

“I want to learn American English and slang. My college teacher was from the UK so I watched American movies and television shows. Prison Break.”

I explained I had been a teacher but now took photos. I pointed at the buildings. “When will you go to America,” I asked.

“When I save enough money,” he said.

The conversation fell into a lull. Despite the heat he was still dry. I looked as if I had been swimming in the nearby Pearl River. I made an excuse and my escape. He shook my wet hand and returned to the exercise equipment and his friends.

I breathed a sign of relief and went back to taking a visual inventory of Shamian Da Dao. The light had gone from passable to horrible. I would make mental notes and estimations, and come back another time.

A hint of scary, and random fun conversations: Such is my life in China.

A grandmother and granddaughter snack outside of Chen Jia Si, or the Chen Family Academy, in Guangzhou, China. The complex was collectively built by members of the Chen family, from all over Guangdong province, during the 19th .

The buildings were used to house family members taking royal examinations.

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Fishing in Guangzhou, China

Morning, in Yuexiu Park, Guangzhou, China. The park, a mammoth green space in the city’s north end, is home to several landmarks including the Zhenhai Tower and the Statue of the Five Rams. The park is popular as a place to relax, and as pictured above, fish.

Captured: September 30, 2008.

The Chinese flag, in front of the Zhenhai Tower in Guangzhou, China

Happy Guoqingjie, or National Day, October 1, 2008. For more information on China’s National Day see my post: Happy National Day China

That’s right, I’m on the road, in Guangzhou (Canton), capital of Guangdong province.

What’s up for today? The Martyrs’ Memorial, the Chen family compound, a temple or two, and then colonial architecture at the lovely Shamian Island.

This is mostly a test post to see if my new notebook computer works on the road.

Ta, Stevo