World Capitals (WC). The thought of them, all of them, brings a tear to my eye. There are several cities that I would give more than an eye to see, it is true. Foreign metropole, glittering with nostalgia and wanderlust.
The August of 2022 heralds the return of the first wave of intrepid travelers, mostly unscathed, from trips home this summer. Things are looking hopeful. Lukou Airport is gearing up for flights to Europe once more. But this isn’t our first rodeo, and for many this summer has been another weird one, here in Middle Earth. A case in point; I uttered something for the very first time somewhere in the middle of July. “It’s too hot”, I said. I had to sit down. The children eyed each other nervously.
Look at us, settling into the rut of weird, making it our own. Decorating, renovating, making memes about it. Humanity and its fantastical ability to adapt and acclimatize. Some of us even thrive in the bizarre and unfamiliar.
Cursed with impatience and anxiety, the re-entry process still seemed on par with an Apollo Space Mission in terms of uncertainty and danger for my travelling companions and I. The turgid, soupy heat of July on the Yangtze River Plane can have a curious effect on the workings of the mind. Thinking about world capitals in this context is Machiavellian, defiant, almost perverse. Yet within paradox often lie pearls of truth.
National capitals, like quaint old grandpa’s, are bastions of national pride and centers of power. But have you ever heard of the WC of Jeans? Of Underwear? Of Black Dirt? Behold, the wild and whacky world capitals of the weird and wonderful. We’ve got Capitals of Leap Years and Brothels, of Heavy Metal and Frankenfoods, of Zippers and Bathtub Racing, even of Pickpocketing.
The Caput Mundi of weird world capitals without a shadow of a doubt, is the U.S.A. World Capitals of Cow Chip Throwing (yes, folks, that’s a cow pat to us Europeans. Ikr?), Hubcaps, Lost Luggage and The Leap Year are but a miniscule representation of the glut of self-proclaimed world capitals in America.
Admittedly, there is a significant variance in the appeal of these WCs, but a truth about humans is that they are as diverse a species as it comes. So, if there is a WC of Frogs to be found (it’s in Rayne, Louisiana) then you can be sure there will be some of your fellow humans flocking there annually to enjoy the Frog Festival and perpetually popular Frog Derby, as well as some others eager to pay homage to the WC of Toilet Paper (sic? Ed.) in Green Bay, Wisconsin, home the very first factory to produce splinter-free TP. Even if I never do actually make a pilgrimage to this particular WC, I thank them from the bottom of my… heart.
Despite the monopoly of WCs, however, there are world capitals of the zany outside of America, some of which you may even have visited, unaware of their alter-ego claim to fame.
The WC of Jeans, for example, is in Xintang, China. Producing over 800,000 pairs of jeans a day, we passed through on a train ride to Xiamen this summer and marveled at the natural beauty of the countryside, a far cry from the polluted black rivers that hounded the city’s reputation a decade ago when the Jean Capital up and left El Paso, Texas, and became an expat WC.
But that’s not all, China also boasts one of the racier capitals, the WC of Underwear, in Gurao, Guandong Province. Producing over 2oo million bras alone per anum, 80 percent of Gurao’s output is that which is closest to our hearts and other parts; undergarments of all shapes and sizes.
At one point, the Tourist Board actually promoted it as the Capital of Sexy, which led to some perplexed looking tourists wandering around underwear factories, wondering when the red lights would appear.
I’m sure the Middle Kingdom has many other gems yet unknown to me, save Beijing, WC of Roast Duck, and Nanjing, WC of Humidity. Outside of our host country borders, though, several other Capitals of Quirk merit mention.
If bathtub racing floats your boat, Nanaimo, Canada, is the place for you.
Since 1967, the home of “bathtubbing” has drawn enthusiasts from around the globe each July. These aficionados make old bathtubs sea-worthy, and race them into the Georgia Strait and back to the finish line in Nanaimo Bay.
Some spend upwards of $30,000 getting their tub race-ready and come from as far as Australia to fulfil their dream of captaining their bathtub to glory, being first across the finish line.
Speaking of “finish”, The WC of Heavy Metal is Helsinki, Finland. “With 54.3 heavy metal bands per 100,000 of the population, Finland has become the Mecca of Heavy Metal”, according to wanderlust.co.uk. Whilst the math of that explanation may escape me (the Finish population is approximately 5.5 million for the more mathematically minded of readers), that does seem like a lot of headbangers concentrated into one small country, and suggests at least some correlation between excellence in education systems and a liking for sick guitar licks. Finland has the best education system in the world, according to the World Economic Forum’s Global Competitiveness Report, so it is interesting to me, as an educator, that they have gone, “No, Heavy Metal. We will be the heavy metal WC, thank you very much.” Priorities. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, after all.
With that in mind, alongside the truism that correlation does not mean causation, the intersection of weird and actual capital cities came to pass in the first place because of something one of my family said watching Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkhaban last night. As Hogwart’s Express puffed through a dark and stormy night, with sheets of rain assaulting the train window, Dublin, with its horizontal rain and squat skies, and peat-briquette-4am-jet-lag-winter mornings hijacks my thoughts.
“I miss the cold and rain”, I said, before my brain finished thinking it. The children checked the back of my head for a zipper (The WC of Zippers is Kurobe City, Japan), to see if Mamá has been replaced by a usurper or an alien. We understand that finally, it is time to mentally prepare for an Apollonian re-entry if necessary.
Of course, language falls flat when it comes to the heart’s paradoxical truths. Going away makes returning sweet. It is sometimes necessary to miss a thing to appreciate its worth.
The seed of love may lie in its polar opposite. The contrary is also true.
These are but a few of the wonderfully oddball world capitals of things other than countries and letters.
