Just before dusk the plane lands in Guangzhou, at around 18:00 local time. I am standing in the Airport hall, waiting to cross the border. Long rows of passengers are lined up to pass the counters of the Customs Office. There are many people from African countries; they tell me they plan to attend the Canton Trade Fair. These people are tall and beautiful and I feel small (thinking colonialism in this part of the world is an obligation). I phone Pieter, he is doing OK, Saturday starts for him in NL. But it takes an hour to pass the border into China free to move around here for three months with my visa. In the luggage department I am very lucky, as I walk straight into my big red bag, moving slowly before my eyes. After waiting to so long to pass Customs, this is a nice surprise. I am looking forward to catch a cab to the hotel and hopefully take a shower.
It is very, very humid outside. In the gathering dusk, other travelers hasten away from the Airport. After a long queue at the Taxi stand, I catch a taxi to the Victory Hotel. I try to speak some of my best Chinese, but get zero response; so I stop bothering the cab driver with the words I had tried to learn by heart, and look at the very long highway from the Airport to the French Quarter – there are lots of cars, and also… a lot of smog.
The Victory Hotel is an old colonial building located on the Shamian Isle. This isle is part of Guangzhou; various bridges over the Pearl River bring you back to the the city center. During the Song, Ming and Qing dynasties, the Shamian isle was already of major importance for trade. During the Opium Wars, opium was smuggled into China from here.
The cab driver who took a long (roundabout?) drive to bring me here, has behaved well and drops me off, right in front of the hotel. The ornamental hotel building looks solid - like an old fashioned French consulate.
In front of the hotel, a massive number of cars is passing by. The sound is brutal. The smell is also new to me: this smog has a peculiar odor, in a stifling heat.
Across the street, there is (as I will find out later ) a traditional market with lots of herbs such as ginger, cumin, canella, nutmeg, green herbs, goji berries; and a Chinese Traditional Medicine Center.
Behind the hotel, there are old, stately houses, including those from the French colonial era.
In 1859, the Shamian Isle got divided into two parts, one for the English and one for the French, each having their own trade post and their own bridge. In 1925, the Shamian uprise of the Chinese people against the colonial regime ended in bloodshed. On June 21, 1925, workers of Guangzhou (then: Canton) went on strike in support of Shanghai’s so-called May 30 Movement. The goal was to remove imperialism. Two days later, on June 23, over 100,000 people convened in what is now called the Guangdong Provincial People's Stadium, announcing their intention to bring down foreign imperialism and cancel unequal treaties. At 3 AM., when the protest had moved to the western bridge, things got out of hand. British and French soldiers started firing at the protesters. In addition, British warships fired towards the north coast of Shamian.
Over 50 people were killed and more than 170 seriously injured. After the massacre (called the Shakee massacre), the national government in Canton appealed to the British and French consulates, requesting a formal apology, punishment of the related military officers, and reparations for the families of the dead; removal of the warships and, last but not least, the return of Shamian to the national government. All these demands were rejected by the consulates.

Nowadays, the isle is beautiful and peaceful; in the evening there is a soft breeze along the quays. The new boulevard allows for a view of the broad river. On the other side of the river, one sees the mainland with its modern high-rise buildings. On the isle itself, the old consulate buildings have been renovated and turned into apartments. This neighborhood has a smart design. Outside, in the humid heat, people play badminton; youngsters drink tea on the terraces. Walking around, my blouse gets soaked and sticks to my skin. I come across a French restaurant and look at the menu outside. This “French cuisine” has meals with real French names. The pictures however, betray some strong Chinese influences, such as dumplings and rice… I decide to have dinner elsewhere. I then walk through gates into the Shamian Tennis Court to have a look there, but a guard asks me for my membership card – or at least he seems to ask for it – having none, I get expelled from court in a nice, but insistent way.
In another restaurant, I am guided towards a round dinner table for five persons. I get a menu card… but nothing happens for a long while. They seem shy to come over, or just too busy. Finally, I manage to order something. I get tea immediately which tastes lovely, but it takes again a long time before I receive a large bowl of rice for at least five persons with only some beans - I had almost fallen asleep…
Back in my hotel, the room is a quiet paradise, a peaceful haven, surrounded by the noise of this busy city.