The market near our hotel provides everything a person could need on a day to day basis- food, clothing, home appliances and pets. There is also a woman willing to patch your jeans for just over a dollar when you rip them right across one butt cheek playing jianzi (lucky for Matt that she exists!). The place is alive with people, and is a strangely comforting place in which to just walk around and take in the culture. This week has been dedicated to the sweet portion of the market, and getting brave with new, unnaturally coloured food.
When things only cost the equivalent of twenty cents, it is easy to get carried away. Emerging from the market with bags of sweet break, cookies and red bean packages, Paola and myself realised that we may have over done it slightly. After all, we had spent $1.50 on all the food. The food, however, is deceiving- luring you into its grasp and then forcing you to spit it out. Seeds? No, it’s actually nuts. Chocolate? No, it’s actually red bean. Delicious? Quite the opposite- it tastes like the underside of a car. These interactions with the baked goods are commonplace here in China.
Paola and my mission to try all things baked was cut very short in the middle of the week. Approaching the shop front, we were met with roller doors and a note scribbled on a piece of cardboard box.
“Workers needed.”
A mobile phone number followed. This baffled me slightly. In a place where you create someone’s job by dropping rubbish on the floor, the idea of not being able to find a sales assistant was beyond me. And then the panic set in. What if they never find workers? What if they don’t open again? Where the hell am I going to get those delicious cookies? I am talking serious first world problems. Scouring the market, we managed to find one other bakery that provided some comfort, but with an empty hole where my cookies should have been. This was replaced with purple, yellow and red filled cakes- none of which I could tell you what the ingredients are.
We bunkered down and waited out the time, returning daily to check if the roller doors had in fact opened up and if trade had recommenced. I can safely say I was far too excited to discover after four days of closure that the roller doors had been opened.
“Wait a moment, I’m coming”
Covered in custard and cake batter up to his elbows- the man behind the counter met my beaming smile with slight confusion. And absolutely no idea how close I was to calling the number and filling the job position myself.
