(How) roughing it (?)

A solitary tent has been pitched in a corner of the massive pavilion in front of the Chongqing North Train Station, sheltering its inhabitants from one of the city's frequent light drizzles. Hard to know if this outcome was "according to plan" , or not. Were this picture taken at any time other than October's National Day Holiday (the Chinese Lunar New Year's infamous "Spring Rush" / 春运 ), I would believe this situation as improvised instead of anticipated. However, considering the rising countrywide popularity of all facets of outdoors activity (particularly if said activities require the procurement of various types of kinds of high-end, expedition-quality gear), coupled with both the skyrocketing prices and scarcity of hotel rooms and train/plane tickets that traditionally accompany Chinese holidays, the idea of camping in front of a train station may have seemed like a good idea in the abstract.

Between journeys

Back from rural Yunnan, off again tomorrow for Henan to ring in the Year of the Snake. Barely enough time for laundry, combing through far too many photos, and a deep, reflective breath or two. The pieces below of mine came online while I was out.

Ethnography Matters

MIT Colab's Fresh Eye Friday

Global Urbanist

Enjoy. Thoughts and opinions always appreciated. Images are from a few (mostly) quiet minutes watching the sun set on a country road outside of Dengchuan, Yunnan.

Yan-going, Yan-going...

After a total of three great years, it is time to wrap things up in Myanmar, though this won't be the last chapter of The Golden Land in my life (if I get a say in things, at least). Looking forward to a summer stateside wrapping up some residual Myanmar-related undertakings, as well as getting cracking on some long-planned-for home improvement projects down in Pittsburgh - give me a shout if fate brings you through that neck of the woods.

On the horizon: a year(-ish) in China, studying the fantastic vehicles that you see in this picture (no, I don't mean early 90's Toyota Corollas, though they are quite fantastic for their own different reasons) and the processes behind their local-level, user-led innovation. The point of it all? Trying to understand grassroots innovation (and, if I'm feeling particularly ambitious, creativity and innovation in general) across China, and processing those findings to bring you all some piping hot servings of creativity and originality the likes of which you may have doubted China capable of.

If you happen to be headed China-side after August or so, do let me know.

For stoves and cars

There are certain inferences we could make about the neighborhood surrounding this gas station in suburban Seville, Spain. Such inferences might include the types of fuel predominately used to heat local homes, the availability of said fuels, and changes in ability/willingness of homeowners with stove-heated homes to personally go out and collect fuel vs. drive to purchase  pre-collected fuel. The gap in knowledge of an old home's new owner as to source of fuelwood could also contribute, as could the increasing scarcity of local fuelwood.

Is this gas station's decision to stock firewood forward-looking or backward-looking? Is this a lag indicative of an economic recession, with a shortage in money leading to residents heating their homes using wood (assuming it is more affordable than their previous means of heating)? If so, savings must be considerable, as one uses up a not-insignificant amount of time and money driving oneself to the gas station (if the trip is solely to pick up firewood, that is). 

The gas station's evolving role as a hub for all manner of fuels, and assumptions about share of local, repeat customers versus journeying, drive-by customers.

Stop, rest

A restaurant menu at the imaginatively named "Mile 115 rest stop", an example of a pre-determined place to stop. Distance from a point that is known to all, so obvious to locals that it needn't be mentioned yet potentially baffling to others (115 miles from where we set out from? From where the road ends?). A physical crossroad is often interpreted as an invitation to pause, reflect upon the journey so far, and enjoy greasy samosas. Entrepreneurs of the variety that open roadside restaurants are merely responding to the human notion to stop at crossroads.

This differs from the other sort of stop: unplanned, out in the middle of nowhere and utterly devoid of any trace of humanity save for the very road one has been rocketing down. Where stepping off of the bus at a given point can be as momentous as stepping on to the moon - perhaps at no other time has a bus ever stopped at this exact point and passengers stumbled off, bleary-eyed, disoriented, shuffling off into bushes seeking relief. 

History, written in tire-tracks and footprints.

Cachet and carry

This bag could be valued both for its durability (being made of a stronger kind of plastic than usually found here in Myanmar) and for the status-boost it awards its carrier as it asserts that the owner has traveled (and shopped) internationally. Seen on board a truck-ferry, there is an interesting status-disconnect between the bag's implied past behavior and the carrier's presently engaged behavior - wouldn't someone who has been to the Hong Kong branch of Giordano's be more likely to ride a taxi or drive their own car?

So I pulled it, now what?

 

A good warning sign, except for the third panel down - the one about waiting until the train has stopped. Suppose one's experiences had not yet exposed one to the octagonal red sign that (for Americans) unequivocally means "Stop". In an international airport such as JFK, where this sign is located, that is entirely possible. 

In the panic of an emergency situation, what would your racing mind otherwise assume the third panel meant?

Minnie from Malaysia

Stickers on the wall of a Myanmar internet cafe in Malay (right?),
subtle indicators of the status, wealth, and cosmopolitan nature of a
family fortunate enough to have been able to send one or more family
members to work in Malaysia, from whence they bring back both money
and Minnie Mouse stickers.

More tasteful than the "My X went to Y, and all I got was this lousy
t-shirt", plus the unfamiliar language evokes a lo-fi mystique - what
are these familiar characters doing speaking an unfamiliar language?
The key is that you have to ask.

Every context has little "insider" trinkets that show, to those in the
know (or the want-to-know), on how many far corners of the earth
you've tastefully trodden. They require a question, an initial
inquiry, a curiosity on the part of the observer. Oh, that ol'
carving? Won it off a xxx witch doctor in a game of poker. Those
flavored toothpicks? Just something I picked it up at a convenience
store near the China-Kazakh border. Y'know.

Implicit in all this is the status upgrade an object undergoes as it
moves from an environment where comparable items are common (a
stationery store in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia) to rare (Sagaing,
Myanmar).