A row of stalls at Night It Up! before it got really crowded

My first dispatch comes from my hometown of Markham. Night It Up! (formerly known as Asian Night Market and Toronto Night Market) is an annual festival inspired by the night markets of Asia. The event started in 2002 and has traditionally been held at Metro Square, or Markham’s the Little Taipei. This year it moved to a much bigger space at the Markham Civic Centre.

From the start, it was clear this year’s market was done on a much larger scale. This year organizers provided free shuttle buses to move people from the Markham-Toronto border up to the site. As I drove over to the Civic Centre around 10 p.m. on Saturday, I was shocked to see large groups of people waiting to cross the street in all directions at the intersection of Highway 7 and Town Centre Boulevard. It’s no surprise that Markham doesn’t have the infrastructure to deal with events this big. Organizers obviously foresaw parking issues and tired to mitigate them with traffic-directing police and the shuttle bus. However as Markham grows closer to being a proper city and less of a bedroom community, the town needs to re-think its planning to facilitate more events like this.

Night It Up! captured the bustle and smell of night markets in Asia

Full disclosure: This was my first time at this event. I recall hearing about a night market in Markham years ago and have some vague memories of some white food tents in the Metro Square parking lot. I’m glad that this was my formal introduction to the event because the feeling left over from those vague recollections is not impressive. Also after a summer in Taiwan, arguably the home of the world’s best night markets, and living in Taipei’s Shida night market, I think I have pretty high standards for a good night market.

Taiwanese night markets basically comprise their own tiny neighbourhoods and are daily occurrence. During the day, it’s a collection of stores, restaurants and maybe a few food carts. Usually around late afternoon more carts roll in to set up shop and serve food to the afternoon snack/dinner crowd. The prime time for night markets is from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. By then clothing stalls have been set up on the street, half hour line-ups for the most popular stands are in full force and the streets are packed. Ironically, night markets don’t do late night business. If you want a drunken snack after the bar or club, you won’t find it at the night market. There might be one deep-fried seafood vendor left, but you’re probably stuck with eating at 7-11 or Family Mart.

Night It Up! is closer to a festival than it is a night market. I was there for Vybe Dance, a hip-hop dance group, and organizer’s in-house rock band’s performances. Power Unit Youth Organization put together the event and it was reflected in the attendees. While I’m probably not their demographic, but I actually enjoyed their performances. I was glad it wasn’t the fan-dancing or cheesy pageantry usually seen at ethnic-branded festivals. It felt like something that young Chinese people put together for themselves and their friends. The most Chinese it got on stage was the English-Cantonese emcee duo. I was curious as to why there was no Mandarin translation though.

Festival-goers "fishing"

The market atmosphere was captured pretty well–from the smells to the experience of trying to walk through a packed market. There were several midway-style games, which is more carnival than night markets. However I was surprised to see they had a two pools set up for people to catch goldfish. It reminded me of shrimping booths at Shilin market, where you catch shrimp in nets and then they’re barbequed. Except I’m pretty sure those fish become pets.

For me, and probably most people, the main draw at any night market is the food. I was immediately went for the Asian poutine, if only for the novelty value. There were several different types of poutine, with varying flavours and meats. Being a seafood fiend, I chose the lobster and shrimp poutine. The fries and gravy were there, but the cheese was substituted with something close to hollandaise sauce. I’m not really sure why they did away with the curds. Even in the ethnic-themed poutines that have become mainstream in Quebec (i.e.: Italian poutine) they keep the curds, even when they add meat. Personally, I think the basics of poutine must remain the same (fries, sauce, curds) even if you choose to play with them individually or just add more things on top.

The selection of Asian poutines at a food stall

The lobster and shrimp Asian poutine

The biggest lines of the night were the L&L barbeque stand and Diana’s Seafood Delight. L&L were cooking meat skewers on the biggest grill in the market. Diana’s western-style oysters (raw with a wedge of lemon on the side) had a much higher demand than the Asian oyster-pancake booths. People were leaving with several boxes of oysters each and presumably bringing them home.

A stinky tofu cook suited in full armour to protect from the sizzling oil

For those wondering what the the hot garbage-like smell wafting through the market was, it was stinky tofu. A night market isn’t a night market without stinky tofu. For those who wonder how Asians can eat this stuff, I’d like point out Asians people know it smells. Stinky tofu is actually a literal translation. No one is immune to the smell but maybe there are some people who are more accustomed to it. The dish itself is tofu deep-fried and covered in a variety of condiments. I’m not sure why but I never ate it while I was in Asia. I’m not a big fan of tofu in general. A little nostalgic and a little shame-faced about this admission, I snuck a few bites from a friend. Surprisingly it doesn’t smell too much when you have a serving  in front of you. Other than the burn of the hot oil, it really didn’t bother me too much. That being said, I don’t understand the cult-like devotion to it either. On Cantonese television shows, people who like it eating it are portrayed as slightly obsessed with it.

I was genuinely impressed by the scale and execution of Night It Up!. I think it’s well on its way to become a signature Markham event that people will look forward to each year and travel for. While I’m hardly a grizzled night market expert, for a few hours I got a little taste of one of my former homes at, well, home.

This week I started my internship at enRoute online, the website for enRoute, Air Canada’s in-flight travel magazine. I’m mostly working on the blog right now but I’m sure the full extent of my responsibilities will reveal themselves in the next six months.

First let’s do a little recap and wrap-up.

When I left you, I had just arrived in Strasbourg after escaping Barcelona via Lyon. I had two weeks left in Strasbourg to finish up work, see a little more of the Alsace and say goodbye to my friends. I flew home at the beginning of May and had one week in Toronto to eat all my favourite foods and say hello/goodbye to my friends. My parents and I took a brief trip to Ottawa to attend the tulip festival. My former roommate came along for the ride and helped me fulfill my lifelong dream of going to Zaphod Beeblebrox and having a pan-galactic gargleblaster. My parents and I continued up the 401 where they dropped me off in Montréal. And voila!

I’m still trying to unravel my overall thoughts about France and my time there. Regarding my big dilemma at the beginning about whether to live in Strasbourg or Séléstat, I’m glad that I chose the former. I’m not an expert on the countryside, but in the Alsace it’s beautiful. It consists of tiny villages of houses painted in pastel colours, nestled around the Vosges mountain range. When you drive down la route du vin, the only thing separating you and the villages is a field of vineyards. I feel a tinge of sadness I didn’t spend more time in the countryside, but no regret. I know I am a city girl at heart, but I honestly think I would face the same dilemma if I ever have to choose again.

I enjoyed teaching more than I thought I would, but I can’t see myself doing it as a career. Would I do it again? Maybe. If it was the right place and the right time. My students, for the most part, were nice and funny people. They reminded me of myself and my friends at that age. However, since they were French, they still made for great anthropological subjects. I love when you can use teaching as a licence to make students do ridiculous things. When I think of the times I made each student say “happy new year” in Cantonese or read tongue twisters filled with “th” sounds, I laugh. But when I think of the time a teacher asked me to teach a class on the history of Canadian immigration to her terminal class, I’m relieved it’s over. Life in the teacher’s lounge wasn’t so different from high school. There are still cliques and there are still popular kids. I’ll miss the cafeteria and a certain class of secondes but that’s about it. I will never have such a sweet job again. It’s the kind of sweet job where you work 12 hours a week and get two weeks of holidays every month and half. The people who have never been part of the French education system will never understand it.

I haven’t done a good job documenting my working, travel and living experience during this trip for a variety of reasons. Part of it was that I was having an awful time at the beginning. I try to stay away from blogging when I feel like this for fear that it will turn this site into LiveJournal or that it will come off like I’m whining about my life. In hindsight, this betrayed the purpose of this blog. While I generally try to keep this blog light, I write to honestly share my experience in other cultures and life abroad. As lucky as I am to be able to live around the world, there are difficulties and lonely moments that come along with it.

France was difficult because I had the option to integrate for the first time. I had a job and the chance to build relationships with real French people. This was the one country I’ve lived in where I actually spoke the language before I got there. While it was a great opportunity to improve my French (which it did), it was a long and frustrating process.

Speaking English in my foreigner bubble and not being able to make French friends (at least not ones I spoke in French with) always left lingering feelings of guilt. I felt angry at myself for retreating into the comfort of speaking English instead of forcing myself to speak French. I didn’t want to be one of those people who hung around at Irish pubs, spoke English with my American friends and wondered after seven months why my French hadn’t improved. In the end, I made French friends who I communicated with only in French but my closest group of friends were other anglophone assistants. I met both groups around the mid-way point and they turned my experience in France around for me.

Presently I face the challenge of improving my French while trying to understand the Quebecois accent. I already feel more intimidated speaking French here than France since the majority of francophones seem to speak English so well. A common anglophone complaint is that locals switch to English when they hear your accent–something that never happened to me in France. I’m still undecided whether it’s a snub at your language skills or a courtesy to make you more comfortable. Or both. I’ve also realized how big language plays in your personality and identity. As much as I need to practice my French, I can’t exist without at least an equal dose of English. Living in France has shown me that I can deal with everyday things in French but socializing is another story. The task I’m charged for the next six months is trying to find myself and develop my personality in French. It’s a tall order. I am still not sure whether feeling like yourself in another language is just a matter of time and effort or even possible. I guess it’s time to find out. Bon courage à moi.

Wintzenheim – 24/02/2010