We both slept well and awoke early, by 4:30 a.m. We exercised, read, got ready and headed down to the breakfast buffet. I noticed another caucasian couple, and thought for certain that they were the couple from Saskatchewan, also from Children’s Bridge. We sat down and began to eat , and although not unusual for Todd to ignore me while speaking, I noticed he seemed particularly attuned to the conversation of the table behind us. “ They’re speaking Thai” he said. Sure enough, a large group of Thai tourists were eating breakfast at various tables.Todd went over to one of them and visited with the group, who were shocked to hear, right here in Beijing, a white face gray haired guy who seemed to know all the nuances of the language as he conversed comfortably with them, telling them jokes and making them laugh.
Following our buffet we ventured outside into the sun-filtered day, a cloud of smog permeating the air. I loved that respiratory safety was as stylish as it was functional as we saw person after person wearing ‘designer’ face masks. After a short time out of doors we wished for ones of our own. Breathing was hard on the lungs -- like there was a forest fire nearby.
We returned to our room, packed up and went to meet Joan and check out downstairs. Sure enough, we met the couple from Saskatchewan, the very ones we had suspected from the restaurant. They were downstairs ahead of us but just learned their flight had been cancelled. They were adopting from a different orphanage and the Shanghai airport had cancelled a number of flights due to the pollution, the highest level it had been at in years.
We returned to our room, packed up and went to meet Joan and check out downstairs. Sure enough, we met the couple from Saskatchewan, the very ones we had suspected from the restaurant. They were downstairs ahead of us but just learned their flight had been cancelled. They were adopting from a different orphanage and the Shanghai airport had cancelled a number of flights due to the pollution, the highest level it had been at in years.
Sunday morning travel to the airport was much easier to navigate than Saturday evening and we arrived quickly. It was nice to have Joan take care of everything. Our payment to our agency in Ottawa covers all the in-China travel arrangements and it is certainly worth not having to worry about anything while we are here. Soon we boarded the plane to Guangzhou, along with a couple hundred other Chinese nationals, all of whom looked to be in their 20’s and 30’s. I imagined they were travelling back to work or home after a weekend away. We lifted off, headed over mountains and you could see the faint outline of the Great Wall running along mountain ridge tops in various directions.
After about 2 and 1/2 hours in the air we began our descent and observed an extraordinary landscape. Guangzhou is a city of about 10 million people, located in the Pearl River Delta. The Pearl River is the third largest River in China, after the Yangtze and the Yellow. The area is fertile and well developed, and Guangzhou is oftimes referred to as Goat City after the legend of its origins. “Five deities descended from the celestial realm riding five goats or rams, which were in five different colour and with ears of rice in their mouth, and brought a fine climate and bumper harvests to Guangzhou.” It claims to be the start point of the ‘famed Marine Silk Road’ and is widely considered to be the most vibrant commercial city in China.
The more we have learned about it and the more we have seen of it, it really is quite extraordinary. As we flew in there was a ribbon of highway that seemed to wind its way along the path of the river, and as we followed its path it wound through building upon building, factory upon factory, which led to highrises and towers and commercial centres. It was quite something to see it seem to grow and morph from fields and river banks into a city of enormous proportions.
We landed and met our next guide, Becky, and our driver, Mr Li who wound us through congested streets full of cars, bicycles, scooters and fearless pedestrians who all seemed to try and get where they were going at the same time. It felt not unlike Harry Potter and his friends as they road the Knight Bus through the streets of London, honking and dodging everything and everyone in our path.
As I listened to Becky describe the city, my mind went somewhere else entirely. As we passed person after person, I looked into a thousand different faces, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would see a familiar smile or brown eyes in the faces of one of these women, knowing that less than two years ago, someone, somewhere here had made the heartbreaking decision to let go of their little girl, to leave her somewhere where she could be found or rescued. Did she watch it happen? Was she there when the police officer picked her up? Did she hear her baby crying? Was she crying herself. Does she walk around everyday wondering where she is, haunted by her decision?
I think as much as I feel for our little Maylia Wei Yang, I feel just as strongly for her mother and almost wish I could bring her back with us as well, or at least leave her with the reassurance that whatever she thinks about that fateful day, she made the bravest, likely only decision she could make.
I was jolted from my melancholy meanderings as we arrived at our hotel, located at what seemed to be a crossroads of streets and stores, stalls and marketplaces. Becky gave us our instructions for the next day and left us to settle in and explore.
And explore we did. Becky described the street as a shopping Mecca but her description couldn’t even begin to prepare us for the sights, sounds and completely overwhelming sensory experience that was Up & Down Avenue.
It felt like London’s Trafalgar Square, Bangkok’s PatPong and Istanbul’s Istiklal Avenue all rolled into one. Thousands upon thousands of people packed the shop lined streets . People laughed, talked and walked, while music blared and shopkeepers called people in on microphones that didn’t seem to be built with any sort of volume control. Clothing and household goods, socks, shoes, jewelry electronics, anything you wanted to buy seemed to be there, stacked and packed into store after store after store. And if you were hungry, and more than a wee bit brave, there was that too. Cantonese cuisine is not for the faint of stomach and it seemed all the parts of fish or fowl that you would not eat were battered, fried and skewered and served to eager passer’s-by who ate them eagerly from sticks. We steered past the squid, and into a children’s clothing store where tiny leopard printed coats hung beside beautiful little frocks. “ What size?” , a worker asked us in heavily accented english. “We’re not sure yet . We’ll know tomorrow” and we continued down the street.
It felt like London’s Trafalgar Square, Bangkok’s PatPong and Istanbul’s Istiklal Avenue all rolled into one. Thousands upon thousands of people packed the shop lined streets . People laughed, talked and walked, while music blared and shopkeepers called people in on microphones that didn’t seem to be built with any sort of volume control. Clothing and household goods, socks, shoes, jewelry electronics, anything you wanted to buy seemed to be there, stacked and packed into store after store after store. And if you were hungry, and more than a wee bit brave, there was that too. Cantonese cuisine is not for the faint of stomach and it seemed all the parts of fish or fowl that you would not eat were battered, fried and skewered and served to eager passer’s-by who ate them eagerly from sticks. We steered past the squid, and into a children’s clothing store where tiny leopard printed coats hung beside beautiful little frocks. “ What size?” , a worker asked us in heavily accented english. “We’re not sure yet . We’ll know tomorrow” and we continued down the street.
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