Jun. 2020; Millions Saw The Apple Fall

Of all the animals in this big, wide world we share somewhat peacefully, human beings must be the most curious of all creatures. Since moving to the fair shores of the pearl river delta just over a decade ago, I’ve found myself to be the object of interest literally hundreds (if not thousands) of times. Even though Shenzhen is one of the worlds most advanced cities, a decade ago there were far fewer weiguoren than there is presently. And with Shenzhen being a migrant city, to some I’m sure on many occasions I was the first Westerner they’d seen in the flesh. Everything from the swift unpalatable glance, all the way to asking for photos/phone number/salary/family history and marriage details, was just a usual day back in 2010. Still to this day I’ll often catch someone taking a sly photo of me on the metro, the overheard whispers (or non whispers) of “waaah hen guo!” and the usual “WHERE ARE YOU FROM?” being barked at me in all places from the bus stop to the public toilets. But as the years press on and people are much more widely exposed to not only more worldly media in the form of movies and TV shows, but also the increasing presence of non-locals here in China, that attention has somewhat dissipated gradually. But every now and then you get a nice surprise, most often in the forms of boldly inquisitive young ones…

So on Sunday June 21st, our lovely part of the world was promised a pretty impressive solar eclipse, a really rather rare occurrence, so a handful of us photo people decided to meet up and try to grab a few snaps. We ventured around Shenzhens Longgang area, and as 4pm approached we found a spot and parked ourselves appropriately. To be honest I found it all a bit of a letdown, it seemed to be over as soon as it started, and unfortunately we didn’t even get the full eclipse here. Taking a casual stroll around the square, I walked up some steps and was greeted by the pleasantly aghast faces of three young ladies who looked like they’d just seen Godzilla in high heels walk up to them. They must have been around 11 or 12 years old at a guess, and were so incredibly happy-dash-surprised to see such an unfamiliar face. They eventually plucked up the courage to come speak to me and asked the usual questions, where are you from, how long have you been in China, can you speak Chinese (weirdly nearly always the second or third question) and were as polite and charming as three princesses. Their reactions continued as two others western gents from our group walked up the steps, and now another group had come to see what all the fuss was about. This young and intrigued gaggle of four also asked the same questions, plus dozens more, and I tried my best to answer in my broken and shamefully bad Mandarin. We exchanged wechats, agreed how nice it was to all meet each other, and shook hands like gentlemen do (except for the young lady in the group, who told me very matter-of-factly that she was “22, single, a dance teacher, and very beautiful.” My afternoon was drawing to a close, so I jumped on the metro, read my book, and smiled on the long way home.

Growing up in the reasonably cramped housing estates of London, I was no different than any other little monster, in that I wanted to know why everything was the way it was. Why is the sky blue. How does that man fit inside the TV. How do boats not sink (this still absolutely eludes me to this day.) But on occasion, my curiosity led to unforeseen consequences designed to teach me a lesson, and indeed that they did.

I remember it well. Iit’s funny how some memories are so clear and vivid, yet most of our younger lives melt away in our memories like sugar in tea. I was about 6 years old, upstairs on a surprisingly near-empty London double decker bus, and beside me sat my Nan. A couple of seat rows forward and on the left was a large and (to me) very strange looking African man. I didn’t mean to stare, but stare I did, like a fat kid in a cake shop. But this was not because of his skin colour, my part of London was one of the biggest areas for people of colour from all across the globe and seeing brown skin was as natural as any other colour, but because of his clothing. I’d never seen a man wearing these long flowing robes of Africa that looked like ornate gold and blue pajamas before, and I was somewhat taken aback by the ensemble. Unfortunately my dear old Nan didn’t notice that my wonderment was at his fancy get up, and in a second of time I can still feel to this day, she smacked me round the back of the head so hard it felt like the Spanish armada had launched a cannonball at my noggin, and quietly snarled “don’t stare, It’s rude!!”

My Nan was a small and wiry old lady, but she had the mouth of a sailor, smoked like a chimney, and had the hand smacking precision of a retired ninja. My earliest experiences of McDonalds in London was from around 7 years old, and I remember being in shock and awe at how my Nan could wolf down 2 whole Big Macs, which then in my eyes seemed as big as footballs, and yet I struggled to finish off a Happy Meal. In my formative years I learned the hard way from my Nan that certain acts of undesirable behavior, such as picking ones nose, swearing, scratching ones arse in public, not holding a door for a lady etc, would be met with strong swift justice from her claws of terror. I’m not advocating corporal punishment for children, but all of these acts my Nan decided infelicitous I was sure to only do once before I learned real fast. (And staring is really rather rude.)

But is it true that old age starts where curiosity ends? Personally I find myself wanting to know and understand more about the world around me as I get older, so thankfully for now at least, I’m still curious. Recently I met a young man named Su Hang, who is a film maker and has rode his bicycle down to Shenzhen from Heilongjiang. He’s sleeping rough and doing everything unplanned, just to experience life and watch his trip unfold. After Shenzhen he wants to explore Kunming, and from there, who knows. I truly admire someone with such spirit. Instead of rolling over and complaining about life and this terrible year, this 22 year old swashbuckler packed a rucksack and rode his bike across this huge and glorious country. This is true curiosity, this is the feeling and motivation of wanting to know more about the different people and cultures around you. Su Hang I salute you sir, you are an inspiration, and I’m very fortunate to have met you. Perhaps if we all had a little more curiosity, a little more of a spark ignited inside us, motivating us to explore more, read more, listen more, venture further and get out of our comfort zones, perhaps then we would learn that curiosity really is the fuel of personal development. Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton asked why.