My New Digs

I live in the Yantian district of Shenzhen. In my limited experience of the city, my district is by far the most laid back; I particularly enjoy the vibe of my "village." Yantian is composed of four "villages" (certainly nomenclature left-over from before Deng Xiaoping converted the Shenzhen fishing village into the Shenzhen Special Economic Zone metropolis), the first "village" being furthest east from the center of Shenzhen city and the fourth being my home and that of the district's government.

My street leading up to Wutong Mtn.

Here in fourth village, Yantian district, Shenzhen, Guangdong province, China, Planet Earth, there is a pleasant blend of congested shopping streets with mainstream restaurants (both Western and Chinese) and alley-way neighborhoods with removed eateries.




Just the other day, I took a turn off of an alleyway into another alleyway. In so doing, I spotted an open gate into an apartment complex's backyard. Therein, two tarps covered one family's small food cart-ish establishment. To get my meal, I grabbed a small shopping basket and filled it with ingredients of my choosing based on what was available on the display table. All ingredients were skewered. I chose bok choy, parsley, asparagus, fried bean curd, and some sort of meat. I handed the basket to a young man (probably around my age) with heavily teased and orange-tinted hair--he looked like he could have been in this band. He said something to me that I could not comprehend, but then he pointed to the selection of noodles: some fatter, some transparent, some grainy. I picked a wide and transparent noodle.

The hair-band appreciator dropped my ingredients into a sieve within a cauldron of boiling ingredients. Several other patrons waited patiently for their meals to finish boiling. Five short people-watching minutes later, the hair-bandisto's father handed me a large bowl of soupy noodles with my ingredients and politely asked for "wu kuai" (five RMB, which approximately equals $0.75). There was so much food, I could not finish it despite how delicious and spicy the real-deal noodle bowl was. As I left the apartment complex's yard, I passed a man with a steam basket overflowing with a mountain of dumplings. I noted his location for a future meal outing.

Some post-Qin jiade

I live across the street from a network of alleyways filled with little shops and local restaurants. After about one block, the shops tend to repeat: tech shop, toy store, convenience store, clothes, knock-off post-Qin Dynasty artifacts, shoe store, tailor, barber, produce shop, butcher, poultry shop, phone booths, etc. Note: tailors come in the form of wrinkled ladies sitting by a sewing machine on a sidewalk. Walking around, one really gets the sense of a tight-knit neighborhood; this realization, though, is tempered by the fact that Shenzhen is a young city with little-to-no recorded history. Most of my neighbors, therefore, are probably new additions to the manufactured community. Still, it seems as though everyone has their place and they frequent their neighbors' places.

This is not to say there is not intrusion of The West (read: K.F.C.) or Chinese chains. A few nights ago, a colleague took C and me to a Mongolian hotpot restaurant chain. To say the least, it was fantastic and delicious. The concept involves placing a pot (with a divider for two different broths) onto a stove top built into the table. One orders ingredients for the table. Each ingredient is delivered in bulk on a tray so that diners can selectively dip (using chopsticks and soup straining spoons) ingredients as they are desired. I particularly enjoyed the tofu, fried bean curd, mushrooms, lotus roots, and lamb. This place is a definite stop on any future tours I give to visitors or guests.

Fourth village is at the base of Wutong Mtn, the tallest in Shenzhen. Down the street, Minsk World (a historical park founded upon an abandoned Soviet aircraft carrier) occupies the harbor. A few parks and wide plazas offer plenty of space for enjoying clear days or the fog that creeps across Wutong Mtn. At the southwest corner of the village, a border crossing to Hong Kong and a tunnel to downtown Shenzhen keep the neighborhood feeling connected; and having a bus that can get me to a beach in just 20 minutes keeps me from feeling the pressure of what can sometimes be an overwhelming (though exciting) life in the big city.

And lastly, bike lanes built into the sidewalk help me avoid the stress of dodging terrible Chinese drivers. As much as it will pain my parents to read this, I have been harnessing my inner road warrior.





I wish to not affiliate myself with Mel Gibson beyond this blog post.