Bazaar Experience

This is the telling of a Bazaar Experience which by my definition was also bizarre.

[As in “very strange or unusual, especially so as to cause interest or amusement.”]

I love traveling but especially so when traveling with someone who knows the area we’re going to –New York, Illinois, California, China, Israel — anywhere. They know the ‘must-see” spots, where to eat, places where culture is at its finest, the real and true

We’re currently in Urumqi, Zinjiang, China.
[That’s a link to a map. I always want to know where someone else is talking about if they’re sharing a story.]

Handsome Dude is doing scientific things by participating and presenting at a conference. I go on wonderful excursions planned by the hosts of the conference. [The Chinese are genius at hosting. Not kidding. Genius.]

The young lady in the middle is our host. This is her home spot.

I was delighted to learn that we would be going to the local open markets and other shopping spots.

First stop — The Bizarre.

Open Marketplace Heaven.

You find a little bit of everything under the sun and a few things more.

Oh! You have to know I love the spices and fruit and nuts.

Can I just say that I was entertained out of my mind by the people who wanted to have their pictures taken with us? It made me giggle. Several of them were trying to do it surreptitiously and it made no sense at all that they weren’t part of the picture.
[Who in the world is going to care about a picture of two foreigners just standing there?]

They were astonished that we invited them to be in the photos.

Astonished and grinning from ear to ear. I can remember at least 12 people asking to take photos of us.
[It’s making me giggle right now.]

You’ll be bored out of your gourd if I say anymore about that part of the day — but it was hysterical.

And bizarre.

[You get why this post is quite cleverly called, “Bazaar Experience,” right?]

~grin~

There were so many colors and textures.

And dragon lizard thingies.

Bizarre.

This is place is alive with wonderful. Alive.

Okay. This next part is the best part of the whole bazaar experience.

There are times when I’m quite conscientious about how my face represents what I’m thinking. Because I have a face that’s a little like Play-doh. It can be formed into just about anything (and don’t even get me started on what happens to Play-Doh if it’s left on the counter or a shelf–for years–it’s not pretty). I make a huge effort NOT to let my face say what my head is thinking especially when what I’m thinking does not compute.

“Hey, Face.
Don’t show how crazy astonished you are that there’s a chicken head in the bowl you’ve already eaten food out of, okay?”

Now, with that in mind — as we were strolling through the narrow streets of this fantastic bazaar we noticed a shoppe with this container on the counter.

[Keep in mind that you’re anticipating a story from this, right? We weren’t looking at anything as a story. We were just taking everything in.]

I began having a conversation with my face immediately.

“Face! Seriously. You can’t show how horrified you are or disgusted or surprised or whatever. You can do this, Face. Come on. Please come on.”

As the shoppe keeper noticed the “interest,” she began to gesture what they were good for by holding her pointer finger directly under her nose and then both pointer fingers, one on each side of her neck.

Here’s what’s going through my head.

“You stick them up your nose?! Face! FACE, listen to me–don’t say anything! Look away! Look away!”

At the same time the face struggle thing is going on, my friend casually remarks about the contents of the jar. She’s from Germany.

“Sooo–how duss dis help wis deh nose?”

Here’s what’s going through my head.

“Face! Those are baby mice! They stick baby mice up their noses to help with something.
Ewwww! But don’t show it! Don’t show it!”

It’s at this point that I start giggling nervously because I’m horrified about the container of furry, little, dead mice in the jar. My German friend is grinning widely, starting to giggle as well and beginning to realize that I am thinking the same thing that she is thinking and neither one of us wants to offend our hostess by saying anything that we’re thinking because what if she loves sticking those little furry guys up her nose?

Seriously.

At that exact moment we discover that all three of us are thinking the same thing.

Me: “You stick mice up your nose for medicinal purposes?”

Hostess–“I had no idea my people stick mice up their noses for medicinal purposes.”

Friend–“We have nussing like dis in Germany.”

Our hostess proceeds to ask the shoppe keeper about the mice in the jar.

[And displayed on the counter.]

Not surprisingly, the jar isn’t full of little furry dead mice. It’s some kind of flower that unfortunately looks like tiny, dead mice.

~sheesh~

We were laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

I was okay with my face indicating that.

There’s a little video on YouTube that I don’t have access to at this moment. It’s about 30 seconds long and entitled, “They look like mice.”

If you feel you must see it before it’s posted here, it’s under my Teresa Ann Manookin Jones YouTube account.

~grin~

It was the best kind of day.