All the Little Things in Yiwu
December 6, 2009

Sometimes I take for granted that y’all fucks with the shit I post on this blog. I don’t believe that anyone throws some of these destinations on the itinerary for their next vacay. How could y’all? That would make yous as crazy as I is. But some of yous is as crazy as me. Some of y’all can throw a dart on the map and just fly there just to scope the joint out. I salute the people that know what the fucks it is I’m about at heart.
The homey shillz back home hit me with an instant message (aol, that is) that his sister Moon was gonna be around the way – Shanghai and Yiwu. I’ve always enjoyed saying hello to her whenever I see her around killer Cali and she’s really nice so I decided to take a pit stop to Yiwu on my way down to Hong Kong.
I posted some experiences awhile back about taking trains in commieland China. I felt ballsy this time around and went with straight up ghetto seats, instead of the plush life of a soft sleeper. It was rough and dirty like classic metal.
I met up with Moon at the hotel she was staying at in Central Yiwu – Yiwu International Mansion. Since the national mansion was not ballin’ enough or what have you. I could say that it was the nicest hotel I’ve had to pleasure to stay in, in all of China. Most hotels wouldn’t have all glass showers overlooking the city. Or an all glass weight scale. Or an in-room computer with high speed internet. I took the opportunity of this ballinistic suite to clean myself up properly. That shit was right, considering I’ve been in getting down and rural in Tibet for the past week or so.
If anyone ever tells you they went to Yiwu had the most awesome experience of their life they are lying through their piehole. Yiwu used to be a rural farming village but the people who live there eventually learned how to use a press or how to fold packaging. Which, is smart for them because they make a helluva lot more money in small commodities than they did fielding rice all day. It also means that if your business isn’t buying five thousand fake Gucci wallets or three thousand plastic bottle caps, you have no business being in Yiwu. All the cheap joints that are ‘Made in China’ was probably made or brokered for in Yiwu. It’s obvious there would be a place like this in the world, considering there’s a lot of crap at the dollar store, and all these things have to be made somewhere. To see people dedicate their whole lives making these things as their livelihood is another story. To put a humanistic element to something so empty and hallow (mindless small plastic commodity mass consumption) really put things in perspective. We Americans consume so much crap that whole cities change their focus to make the crap for us. And as our economy dips, we’ll be fine cuz we’re stackin’ but places like Yiwu are fucked.

The coolest thing in the city is the night market. Every night at 6P hustlas set up shop, selling everything from children’s clothes, socks, belts, shoes, plastics, iPhone cases, lighters, accessories, watches, toys, ladies and mens fashion, bags, and boxes. Most of these things can be copped at your local Chinatown. But in your Chinatown you don’t find too many nail stands and tattoo stands. I passed on the tattoos, since I’ll want to get my tattoo from an established business not a tent in the middle of the street in China. But decided to get my nails cut and cleaned up since I was mos def on that neanderthal tip. But first, I had to piss like a mad Russian.
I ate more stuff on sticks because it’s cheap and good and then went into spy-mode for a place to relieve myself. At this point, I’m already used to getting down like the Chinese. Lots of Chinese dudes don’t even care they’ll piss in the middle of the market. So I automatically looked for a corner, did my business, and was out. Nice and clean (the getaway, not the corner). That’s actually a freedom I wouldn’t mind bringing back to the states, but that’s also why I’m not the mayor of Orange County.
The price of a manicure started from the cute chinese chick at ¥20, the ripoff price. I wasn’t having any games so I offered ¥18 ($2.63) and at first the played games but she knew it was more than fair and a deal was struck. So halfway through it started to sprinkle. And for the first time on my trip I was about to get wet. The clouds in the sky didn’t hold anything back because two minutes later it was pouring like no tomorrow. We were going to have to finish the manicure under the tent and so did nine other chicks that had to finish they nails as well. In a matter of minutes, I went from sitting on the street to sharing a small tent with about 15 cute chinese girls. When I say that I was in a tent with 15 cute chinese girls… I’ve been fortunate in my travels to have met some primo choices but all the girls under the tent were the greatest of all time, mainly because they were all getting their nails done so that they could go out right after. Dime pieces is what people at home would say to describe these ladies. So after awhile of chatting one of them offered to walk me back to my hotel. It helped that I was staying at the most fancy joint in Yiwu so she invited me out. The short story is I had a flight that night so I was in a crappy position. This is when I wish I stuck my tongue down her throat or something but the only thing I penetrated was the hotel labyrinth, picked up my stuff, and hailed a cab to the airport.
Not bad for a place I thought wouldn’t have anything fun to do.