  |
|
I had reasoned
that for a city of this size, there must be some kind of inner city shopping
area that was fairly modern in design - perhaps something as familiar as
the central business district in Auckland. On the evening upon which I'd
visited the imperial palace, I'd spotted it, and made it an imperative
to check it out. Perhaps I was lonely for coffee, of which there is none
of quality to be found in the city - and perhaps, I fear, in the whole
country. After living under foreign conditions, at times the universality
of metropolitan life beckons temptingly.
I'd had a quick
peek yesterday whilst shopping for glasses and took the excuse, upon picking
them up today, to explore the urban centre. Shenyang, to be honest, has
no 'downtown' as such, merely a few built-up areas in various places in
which there is a greater congregation of expensive stores than in other
areas. One of the cleanest of these is Tai Yuan Jie, (which roughly translates
to 'most original street' in the sense of 'oldest' or 'primary' street)
The streets
were fairly crowded, and the wares were not cheap. Despite the numerous
hotels in the area, I found that the waiguoren density was still appreciably
low, and apart from the occasional swarthy old European businessman, the
hairy, unsociable types that are usually sent overseas, I was still a subject
of curiosity for the local shoppers and merchants.
KFC seemed a convenient place to escape for a moment. The prices were fairly standard, which made the restaurant a little more expensive than most, and the fare was disappointing. I have discovered that fowl in China must suffer from the same vertical challenges as do the countrymen - the microscopic drumsticks I was served led me to believe that China is home to the world's shortest chickens. I asked for a white coffee too, and was given a sachet of milk powder to accompany the low grade filter - they didn't understand the pleasures of fresh milk, although it was available for sale on premises... Otherwise, there was little to fascinate on the extent of the street. Fashion stores abounded, their only oddity being the staff who were employed to applaud the store, standing at the entrance. These employees stand clapping all day in hope of attracting customers, a job which is appreciably underpaid. In the plush foyers of hotels, I did find cafés - although shied of them, for the ancillary fees which customers were expected to pay. An hour with a cappuccino can cost up to US$50, with the price of the coffee itself, the serving fee (apparently, after you buy the coffee, you must also pay to have them serve it to you over the counter), the 'sitting fee' for using their chairs, and the tip. Pearl Tea at Xian Zhong Lin I found what I was looking for at Xiang Zhong Lin, which was the closest thing I'd seen to a true café in the city thus far. Xian Zhong Lin is a franchise which extends as far as Sydney and Toronto. Its speciality product is Pearl Tea, a kind of milky iced tea which contains 'pearls' of jelly which are sucked through large fat straws. The flavours vary from blueberry and coconut, to coloured layers of orange juice and apple tea.
The interior of Xian Zhong Lin is decked out like an overgrown garden complete with swings on ropes and picnic tables. I was delighted to find a place where the concept of sitting and relaxing in a pleasant environment with a drink was not foreign. The tea itself was unusual but delicious. I noticed that the patrons were younger people, in their early twenties, predominantly. Also represented were businesspeople who'd come for an informal place in which to conduct their dealings. The atmosphere was great, and the music was strangely familiar, too. It took me a few moments to identify it - it was one of Faye Wong's more esoteric tracks covered by a thrashy guitar band. Having heard little of China's underground music scene, I was shocked to be listening to an example of new generation Chinese rock, particularly one which tributed more conventional (if Faye can be accused of being conventional) Cantopop. The whole experience
was a small suggestion of the way in which China has been developing over
the last ten years. Most accounts I have read of Westerners in China are
now dated considering the economic changes China has experienced. Xian
Zhong Lin is a genuine product of China's cautious open-door policies,
and also tells of a youth culture which is more familiar with the world
beyond China than were the naive student protesters of the late 1980s.
|
