George Nienhuis (film + video) writes:
We began our day by visiting the Yu Gardens, a Taoist temple, and a marketplace. The market, however, was not the average Shanghainese market where produce goods are sold alongside fish and meats; this market was an insect market! It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Crickets were sold alongside grasshoppers, and goldfish were sold alongside rabbits and hens.
All sorts of insects and animals were up for sale in this dilapidated-warehouse-based market. By the time we visited the insect market, the sun had already set on Shanghai, and the only light illuminating the bazaar came from a combination of sparsely scattered, green-tinted fluorescents and blue moonlight, which seeped through gaps in the plywood and aluminum-panel roof. There were potholes in the dark, cold concrete flooring, and collapsible tables scattered about as makeshift kiosks throughout the warehouse.
I have been working on gathering footage for a video piece, which I am planning to prepare as a final project for this class, and the insect marketplace provided what I felt to be an ideal setting for the acquisition of interesting and even bizarre visuals.
After the insect market, our group walked across the street to another market, which was nearly equally interesting. This market was referred to as the “antique market,” which was outdoors, and similar in ambiance to the insect market. The antique market specialized in selling various ornaments and trinkets; it could be described as a Shanghainese flea market.
While at the antique market, Sean Dunder, one of my fellow classmates along with me in Shanghai, noticed a Chinese fighter-pilot helmet of Soviet stylistic resemblance up for sale. Sean found the unwieldy green helmet so fascinating that he began bargaining with the seller of the helmet as a means to get the price of the item within his affordable boundaries, which are rather low. After giving various disgusted facial expressions in response to the numerous unaffordable asking prices of the seller, Sean was able to get the price of the helmet within his range of spending, and purchased the item.
Mere minutes after his purchase, it became apparent that Sean’s decision to acquire the fighter-pilot helmet was the best choice any Westerner could have made in the Far East. When Sean placed the helmet on his head for the first time, he became an instant star in the city of Shanghai. People flocked from all directions to catch a glimpse of the most amazing person to visit Shanghai since Yo-Yo Ma commenced his latest world tour in October of 2007. Cameras were flashing, wives were leaving their husbands, people were cheering, and some even burst into tears of joy.
A few days back, I sat next to Sean on the bus which picked us up from the airport, at which point his hand accidentally touched my jacket. I told this to the man standing next to me, and he viciously attempted to tear the jacket away from my back. I personally did not care, as I was in ecstasy that such a highly coveted figure as Sean actually knew my name. A large swarming crowd of Shanghailanders soon formed around Sean. People were pushing and shoving just to catch a glimpse of the man; it was pandemonium. Yet in the center of all this madness, Sean remained calm. Little did I know some quite irregular was soon to happen.
As the crowd’s anticipation grew with ferocity, Sean raised his arms toward the heavens, and for a split second, the dark, polluted sky of Shanghai parted at its middle, and the most wonderful ray of golden sunlight seeped through the opaque clouds and kissed Sean on his forehead (which was actually the top of the helmet). A smile appeared on Sean’s face, and on the face of each and every Shanghailander. At that very moment, traffic in the streets came to a halt, birds in the trees began to sing with joy, a taxi driver helped a cyclist off the pavement, dogs and cats embraced, and the people of Shanghai started to rejoice in song. The song they sang was by great Shanghai native Cah Mun, a song entitled “The Food” (a rough translation of course). It is a song which embodies life. A song which identifies life as a struggle, but a beautiful struggle nonetheless. More appropriately, it is a song which embodies the existence of Sean and his helmet.
After all that jazz, we got some really great dinner and went back to the hotel.
George Nienhuis is a sophomore in the film & video department.
George, I have not laughed so hard in my life. This is, by far, the best blog any of us wrote. I cannot even figure out which part is funniest. The best part is that it was ALL absolutely true. I saw it with my own eyes.
Posted by: Sara Pooley at February 11, 2008 2:35 AM
