As promised, here are my impressions of a new Shanghai condo tower called Rich Gate. Well come on, the name kind of explains it all, doesn't it? 'Rich Gate - Only if You're Loaded'. Actually, the feeling it always gives me is more like: 'Rich Gate - Not For You' or quite possibly 'Rich Gate - Not in Those Shoes' (sneakers in my case). It's four imposing marble towers, fifteen foot-high walls, 5 star looking (but most certainly not acting) doormen all scream out: Imagine what people will think of you pulling out of this building in your flash car. And so it begs the question, when did Shanghai overtake Los Angeles as the world capital of mindless money-muscle flexing?
I guess the answer to that question is in this decade and last, when Beijing loosened the strings just enough so that the Shanghainese, fairly gagging for it, could wriggle the gloves off and get down to some bare knuckled commerce. And oh boy, has it been Ultimate Fighting business ever since. Entire neighborhoods of row houses - blocks at a time - are disappearing before my very eyes. Daily do I notice a new area with a big red banner stretched across it with slogans and messages that say things like: 'Thank you for leaving your old home in a harmonious way'
But what choice did they have? Ever since the city's party bosses realised how much they could make from land developers it's been curtains for the common people who live in the old neighborhoods. It's sad, but I've lived in Asia long enough to understand that old things are not prized here, as they would be in say, New York. I remember I was thinking of buying a condo in Bangkok a few years ago, and I thought an older one would be a good idea; cheaper, better built, and with some charm to it. But my ex would have none of it, "It's oooold" she said, turning up her nose at the idea. "New one is better!" I tried to explain to her that in New York or anywhere in America for that matter, we know that the old ones were built better. But she just looked at me like I was from Mars.
I have heard conflicting reports from various Chinese people, Shanghainese or otherwise. Most say that the people getting kicked out of their life-long homes are fairly compensated with new apartments in high rises, although often way outside of the central area of Shanghai. That's nice. 'Sorry to give you the boot old timer, but enjoy your new one bedroom out by the airport. Just think of the money you'll save each time you fly'. Yeah right. Occasionally someone strays off the party line and tells me that no, they don't all get compensated at all, or maybe get a little money and a 'good luck'. Now that would be harsh. Remember that these buildings I'm talking about are in the CBD, and if they were privately owned these families would stand to make a bundle by selling. But this is China, and the government owns (or owned) everything.
And so now we have Rich Gate where there was once a vibrant block of families, a community. The funny thing about Rich Gate is that it's almost empty. It's definitely open for business, with it's regal sales office and grand lobby, but at night there are almost no lights on. I have heard that it's prohibitively expensive, even by Shanghai standards, and that the only ones sold so far were to wealthy Taiwanese and Hong Kong types - who would have it as an investment or a place to stay when they were in Shanghai on business. Sort of like a country home, I guess. Now that's putting the Rich into Rich Gate. I have seen a few sleek black (always black) German cars pulling out of the parking garage, with an over-the-top stylishly dressed woman at the wheel usually. So maybe it's a place where fat cats install their girlfriends? I have heard this theory also.
During Christmas Rich Gate decided that it didn't look quite rich enough, so they covered their massive front pillars in gold. It's a common Chinese ploy, and how they do it is by using gold fabric and crimping it all over unevenly so that it looks like raw 24 karat gold. It's a great effect, and it really works. Having seen it for the first time this year (lots of businesses do it) I had to go up and touch it to make sure. Anyway, in Rich Gate's case the pillars are so big that it really was outrageous looking - just the way they wanted I'm sure. The cost of the fabric alone must have been more than my monthly rent. A friend was here visiting from the States and he couldn't get enough of it, at one point trying to get the guard (Buckingham Palace has got nothing on these guys) to pose in front of that sea of gold. The poor guy was unsure, and then agreed until he looked inside and saw some un-busy management type running for the front door. He quickly walked back to his post - where he stands day and night, more or less at attention, in the cold under a huge umbrella.
When I first moved into the neighborhood Rich Gate was still basically a building site, surrounded by large signs advertising 'The Elegance of Living' and 'Truely Luxury Freedom' of your future life behind those plywood walls. One picture had a gigantic gold door knocker on a mahogany door with 'Rich Gate' engraved in fine Roman lettering. Classy all the way. Then, as Spring rolled around the walls started to come down, revealing the gardens, and small wooded copse within. Rugs of turf were going down, and new flowers and shrubs appeared daily. One day the actual marble pillars went up that would serve as a buffer to the inelegant and non-luxurious world across the street. Soon there were fifteen foot high pillars topped with vaguely old English looking lights, and then they started welding together the actual ironwork for the fences and gate of Rich Gate.
As I walked by one clear sunny day I noticed that gates were all in place, but they were oddly quite short. They only came up to about half the height of the pillars, and even though they were very ornate and tipped with small points, they looked odd being so low. Anyway it was kind of a cool effect, giving the pillars a very imposing presence, but surely a miscue. Sure enough, about a week later I saw all the gates coming back down and a very pissed off looking guy in a suit yelling at the poor harried site manager (who couldn't have been to blame for picking the small fences) as he simultaneously barked more invective into his cell phone. At that moment I really wished I could understand Chinese. I'm sure it was along the lines of, "See that gate? Not rich enough!" A day later an even more elaborate fifteen footer was going up in its place.
And that's about all I have to say about Rich Gate (for now). It is what it is. And Shanghai is what it is also. I have no doubt that as fortunes get bigger and people grow more and more ostentatious, Rich Gate will surely fill up with strivers, fat cats, and speculators. Some will probably lose their shirts (and their condos) while others will go on to build their own Rich Gates. But eventually Rich Gate will fill up...hopefully before it gets "old".
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
2 Good Reasons to Live in Shanghai
Today has been a lovely day, and I just thought I should share it. Yes, it was bitter cold out again today, and windy too (just in case anyone got any smart ideas). Even the sun looked like it was freezing. Nonetheless, this intrepid couch jockey decided to go out and enjoy some of the day before the shimmering, shivering disc went away; you never know when it will come back. Besides, I didn't want to look up groggily from the computer and notice it was dark and late, and I'd missed the entire day. So I got up and did a few of my favorite Shanghai things.
I ended up seeing a few friends for lunch, and then we went over and had a meeting about some potential work (there's a lot of 'potential work' these days). Afterwards I decided to treat myself to a pummeling at Jade Massage on Zizhong Lu, only two blocks from apartment. Sitting in front of a computer for hours on end is never a smart idea, and doing it from command center SDOD (my couch) is downright dumb. The positioning is all wrong. First of all there's no back support, which is why it's so attractive to an old sloucher like me. I just start to melt down into the couch, lower and lower, until I realise I am practically in business class; the slippers are off, and my feet are up on the coffee table. Furthermore, as I adjust to the decline I have to crane my neck forward to keep the computer screen in view, adjusting my hollow, glassy eyes as I sink deeper into the mire. It's like reading in bed for the Y Generation (or have we reached Gen Z yet?). So the thought of an hour or two at the mercy of a nimble young masseuse was making my aching neck feel better already.
Jade Massage is on a funny little street called Zizhong Lu. Actually it's not so funny any more, since the entire block of row houses across the street was leveled to make room for a new condo complex called, wait for it...Rich Gate. I don't know where to start about Rich Gate, except that it sums up just about everything that 'new Shanghai' is all about: money, and the ostentatious need to impress. Actually Rich Gate may deserve its own separate post, so for now I'll just leave you with this: Rich Gate is the polar opposite of what was previously there. It's a big marble and glass monstrosity that has (spectacularly) Roman columns at the top of each of its four towers. So what, right? We're not in Italy...and at night the columns are heroically back lit, so from a distance it looks like four little coliseums - exactly how they wanted it to look. No, I'm definitely going to write a Rich Gate piece.
Anyway, across the street from Rich Gate used to be a humble little row of shops (in a humble little neighborhood) - everything from a great potter's shop, where I bought my hand made and painted tea pot, to a great CD store, to a few small clothes boutiques. But Rich Gate and Xintiandi's close proximity have bullied most of those places out with rent hikes, replaced by flashy boutiques that fairly scream out: 'I'm a bored society chick and I have to do something with my time (and my husband's money)'. It's a shame too, because that record store was really great. They had non-bootleg CD's for one, a rarity in China. And the pottery shop was so cool - I really loved her stuff because it was almost all in classic blue and white, which I love, but with updated styles. I don't know if she has relocated, but the store was called Blue Shanghai White. Anyway that's all gone now. In place of the record store is a multi-level boutique with silver mannequins (why not gold, I ask?) wearing tired, tacky, and most assuredly expensive clothes. I walked past one day as a petite, harried looking queen with a Flock of Seagulls haircut was dressing the metallic barbies, and I thought (I really did) 'there goes the neighborhood'.
For some reason Jade Massage has bucked the tide and stayed in its place, sandwiched between two more boring boutiques with names like Imagine. I'm trying. But Jade is really a wonderful place, and a bargain as well. An hour long Chinese massage is only 80 Yuan, and that's only ten bucks yo! That same massage in New York would be a hundred. By contrast, you'd get two hours and an even better massage in Bangkok for $5. It's in these ways (and only these ways) that I begin to understand economics. But I digress.
So I had an hour long massage, and man was it needed. The smiling cherubic ewok who led me upstairs was all of about 4'11" but her nickname must be 'Hands of Steel'. She destroyed me. She mashed me up. Totally, and unashamedly did I submit to her. Relentlessly, and methodically did she throw me a beating.
"Keyi ma?" she whispered into my ear. But I couldn't hear her just then, as she'd unlocked some muscle trauma near my shoulder blade and my ears were ringing. Regaining my senses a few seconds later I huffed, "Keyi, keyi". You can...it's all good.
When she was finished with me it was all I could do to sit upright. I looked around dazed, and sipped at the hot tea she set in front of me. I was a tenderized, beaten man. I felt wonderful. I looked around at the Moroccan tent I was in, with its candle shadows, its sashes and bunting. I listened to the ambient Chinese music playing softly and repetitively. As I gingerly slipped out of my cotton judo suit (they really need to get some bigger pants) I felt so mood altered I was tempted to call for another cup of cha. But I had dinner plans, and so I reluctantly got dressed and headed downstairs. My little tormentor was standing by the door holding my jacket and bag, as sweet as you like. Who could guess at the power she wields with those lovely little mitts? I paid the 80 Kuai and gave her 20 and a knowing smile and was out the door. The cold air felt wonderful on my face as I walked across the road to Xintiandi, and one of my favorite restaurants in Shanghai.
Din Tai Fung is a Taiwanese establishment I'm told, and supposedly there's another one in Los Angeles. It has a large bronze placard of its (rather glowing) New York Times review by the door, and there are always, always people waiting for a table. The fact that it's inside the mall part of Xintiandi threw me at first, and I wouldn't try it. But as my health club, Alexander (another story, certainly) is also there, I eventually did. I don't know what it was that made me shy away at first - possibly the huge watercolor-esque murals of famous Hong Kong and Taiwanese film and music stars on the walls. Yes, there is Jackie Chan and Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung and Gong Li. Perplexingly, there is also Mel Gibson looking a bit out of place and bewildered, but flashing the million dollar smile nonetheless. Anyway, I guess that's what scared me when I first walked by the ceiling to floor glass windows; It is very L.A. actually. But the food. The food is to die for. Very clean (i.e. not oily) and healthy, but still delicious. I love Chinese food, but don't eat pork (I know, I know...it's like not eating tomatoes in Italy) so I have my work cut out generally when ordering in local restaurants. For example, if I tell them I don't want any pork, after they finish laughing they will always point to one, maybe two things on the menu and say 'mei you jiu ro'. No pork. I usually ask for fish to play it safe, but there are no guarantees. A little pork is essential flavoring to most East Asian dishes. Luckily I'm not hard core, and have looked the other way more than once in the name of harmony. Once, in Hong Kong I ordered some dumplings that said 'crab and vegetable'. I couldn't wait to try them, as these are two of my favorite foods. One bite told me there was an intruder in that dumpling, an uninvited guest. I called the boisterous, pidjin English speaking waiter over and pointed at the offending lump of cooling dough. 'That has pork in it. I asked for no pork!"
"Of cowse" he said incredulously, "Juss a little. Whassa matter wit you? It juss fo flava, no powk no goo!"
I tell you all this so you know the land mine that is ordering 'vegetable' dishes in China. in all of East Asia actually. But not Din Tai Fung. There menu is admittedly pork heavy, but those dishes that claim veggie status really are. And there is a wide selection of tofu based small dishes that are excellent. So it was with hearty appetite and clear conscience that I tucked into some warm tofu soaked in a delicate mushroom and soy sauce, and another one of chopped tofu and bean shoots with spring onion and a light vinegar sauce. Another staple (of mine) is the thin wheat noodles in peanut broth; just divine. The noodles are very firm until you twirl them around in the thick broth, then becoming soft and very much like soba. The sauce is very peanutty, with a hint of chillies (more than a hint after I dump clear hot chili oil on it). All of this I complimented with some fresh kale sauteed in garlic - very clean, flash cooked, and non oily - and some delicate chopped green vegetable dumplings from the bamboo steamer. I washed it down with hot Long Jin Cha, a variety of green tea. At the end of it all I couldn't resist ordering some steamed black sesame buns; moist and spongy outside, hot and sweet inside, with a perfect blend of sesame and sugar. That called for another pot of tea, and I sat there sipping and quietly burping for a while like a fat Ming emperor.
And that's what I got up to last Sunday. Another day in Shanghai. Another day happy to be alive and still at large.
I ended up seeing a few friends for lunch, and then we went over and had a meeting about some potential work (there's a lot of 'potential work' these days). Afterwards I decided to treat myself to a pummeling at Jade Massage on Zizhong Lu, only two blocks from apartment. Sitting in front of a computer for hours on end is never a smart idea, and doing it from command center SDOD (my couch) is downright dumb. The positioning is all wrong. First of all there's no back support, which is why it's so attractive to an old sloucher like me. I just start to melt down into the couch, lower and lower, until I realise I am practically in business class; the slippers are off, and my feet are up on the coffee table. Furthermore, as I adjust to the decline I have to crane my neck forward to keep the computer screen in view, adjusting my hollow, glassy eyes as I sink deeper into the mire. It's like reading in bed for the Y Generation (or have we reached Gen Z yet?). So the thought of an hour or two at the mercy of a nimble young masseuse was making my aching neck feel better already.
Jade Massage is on a funny little street called Zizhong Lu. Actually it's not so funny any more, since the entire block of row houses across the street was leveled to make room for a new condo complex called, wait for it...Rich Gate. I don't know where to start about Rich Gate, except that it sums up just about everything that 'new Shanghai' is all about: money, and the ostentatious need to impress. Actually Rich Gate may deserve its own separate post, so for now I'll just leave you with this: Rich Gate is the polar opposite of what was previously there. It's a big marble and glass monstrosity that has (spectacularly) Roman columns at the top of each of its four towers. So what, right? We're not in Italy...and at night the columns are heroically back lit, so from a distance it looks like four little coliseums - exactly how they wanted it to look. No, I'm definitely going to write a Rich Gate piece.
Anyway, across the street from Rich Gate used to be a humble little row of shops (in a humble little neighborhood) - everything from a great potter's shop, where I bought my hand made and painted tea pot, to a great CD store, to a few small clothes boutiques. But Rich Gate and Xintiandi's close proximity have bullied most of those places out with rent hikes, replaced by flashy boutiques that fairly scream out: 'I'm a bored society chick and I have to do something with my time (and my husband's money)'. It's a shame too, because that record store was really great. They had non-bootleg CD's for one, a rarity in China. And the pottery shop was so cool - I really loved her stuff because it was almost all in classic blue and white, which I love, but with updated styles. I don't know if she has relocated, but the store was called Blue Shanghai White. Anyway that's all gone now. In place of the record store is a multi-level boutique with silver mannequins (why not gold, I ask?) wearing tired, tacky, and most assuredly expensive clothes. I walked past one day as a petite, harried looking queen with a Flock of Seagulls haircut was dressing the metallic barbies, and I thought (I really did) 'there goes the neighborhood'.
For some reason Jade Massage has bucked the tide and stayed in its place, sandwiched between two more boring boutiques with names like Imagine. I'm trying. But Jade is really a wonderful place, and a bargain as well. An hour long Chinese massage is only 80 Yuan, and that's only ten bucks yo! That same massage in New York would be a hundred. By contrast, you'd get two hours and an even better massage in Bangkok for $5. It's in these ways (and only these ways) that I begin to understand economics. But I digress.
So I had an hour long massage, and man was it needed. The smiling cherubic ewok who led me upstairs was all of about 4'11" but her nickname must be 'Hands of Steel'. She destroyed me. She mashed me up. Totally, and unashamedly did I submit to her. Relentlessly, and methodically did she throw me a beating.
"Keyi ma?" she whispered into my ear. But I couldn't hear her just then, as she'd unlocked some muscle trauma near my shoulder blade and my ears were ringing. Regaining my senses a few seconds later I huffed, "Keyi, keyi". You can...it's all good.
When she was finished with me it was all I could do to sit upright. I looked around dazed, and sipped at the hot tea she set in front of me. I was a tenderized, beaten man. I felt wonderful. I looked around at the Moroccan tent I was in, with its candle shadows, its sashes and bunting. I listened to the ambient Chinese music playing softly and repetitively. As I gingerly slipped out of my cotton judo suit (they really need to get some bigger pants) I felt so mood altered I was tempted to call for another cup of cha. But I had dinner plans, and so I reluctantly got dressed and headed downstairs. My little tormentor was standing by the door holding my jacket and bag, as sweet as you like. Who could guess at the power she wields with those lovely little mitts? I paid the 80 Kuai and gave her 20 and a knowing smile and was out the door. The cold air felt wonderful on my face as I walked across the road to Xintiandi, and one of my favorite restaurants in Shanghai.
Din Tai Fung is a Taiwanese establishment I'm told, and supposedly there's another one in Los Angeles. It has a large bronze placard of its (rather glowing) New York Times review by the door, and there are always, always people waiting for a table. The fact that it's inside the mall part of Xintiandi threw me at first, and I wouldn't try it. But as my health club, Alexander (another story, certainly) is also there, I eventually did. I don't know what it was that made me shy away at first - possibly the huge watercolor-esque murals of famous Hong Kong and Taiwanese film and music stars on the walls. Yes, there is Jackie Chan and Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung and Gong Li. Perplexingly, there is also Mel Gibson looking a bit out of place and bewildered, but flashing the million dollar smile nonetheless. Anyway, I guess that's what scared me when I first walked by the ceiling to floor glass windows; It is very L.A. actually. But the food. The food is to die for. Very clean (i.e. not oily) and healthy, but still delicious. I love Chinese food, but don't eat pork (I know, I know...it's like not eating tomatoes in Italy) so I have my work cut out generally when ordering in local restaurants. For example, if I tell them I don't want any pork, after they finish laughing they will always point to one, maybe two things on the menu and say 'mei you jiu ro'. No pork. I usually ask for fish to play it safe, but there are no guarantees. A little pork is essential flavoring to most East Asian dishes. Luckily I'm not hard core, and have looked the other way more than once in the name of harmony. Once, in Hong Kong I ordered some dumplings that said 'crab and vegetable'. I couldn't wait to try them, as these are two of my favorite foods. One bite told me there was an intruder in that dumpling, an uninvited guest. I called the boisterous, pidjin English speaking waiter over and pointed at the offending lump of cooling dough. 'That has pork in it. I asked for no pork!"
"Of cowse" he said incredulously, "Juss a little. Whassa matter wit you? It juss fo flava, no powk no goo!"
I tell you all this so you know the land mine that is ordering 'vegetable' dishes in China. in all of East Asia actually. But not Din Tai Fung. There menu is admittedly pork heavy, but those dishes that claim veggie status really are. And there is a wide selection of tofu based small dishes that are excellent. So it was with hearty appetite and clear conscience that I tucked into some warm tofu soaked in a delicate mushroom and soy sauce, and another one of chopped tofu and bean shoots with spring onion and a light vinegar sauce. Another staple (of mine) is the thin wheat noodles in peanut broth; just divine. The noodles are very firm until you twirl them around in the thick broth, then becoming soft and very much like soba. The sauce is very peanutty, with a hint of chillies (more than a hint after I dump clear hot chili oil on it). All of this I complimented with some fresh kale sauteed in garlic - very clean, flash cooked, and non oily - and some delicate chopped green vegetable dumplings from the bamboo steamer. I washed it down with hot Long Jin Cha, a variety of green tea. At the end of it all I couldn't resist ordering some steamed black sesame buns; moist and spongy outside, hot and sweet inside, with a perfect blend of sesame and sugar. That called for another pot of tea, and I sat there sipping and quietly burping for a while like a fat Ming emperor.
And that's what I got up to last Sunday. Another day in Shanghai. Another day happy to be alive and still at large.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Granny D
Today is January 25th, my late grandmother's birthday. My own was three days ago, on the 22nd. When I was growing up we often went out for dinner and celebrated together since our birthdays were so close together, and it always made me feel special. My grandmother was such a cool lady - warm, funny, and positive. She was the kind of person whom others admired; she didn't inspire jealousy, but rather respect. I remember once a much younger man telling me, "Your grandmother was the most beautiful woman in town, period". And that had as much to do with her personality as her natural beauty. Just before she died she sent me a note reminding me that one of her favorite quotes was "Moderation in all things". How well she knew me. I didn't take the advice right away, but it resonated, and like so many other things she said and did over the years, it made a great impression on me. I always miss her around this time of year.
So I was walking around Shanghai today wondering if my grandmother knows what I'm up to. Does she know I'm living here? I'm sure she does...her spirit does. I had a funny idea of her looking down at me and wondering why I get such a kick out of this place. Moderation isn't exactly the city's motto, after all. I don't think it would have been her cup of cha, but I know she would love to hear about it all. So this day I am writing to 'Old Gran Gran'.
It was another nice day out today. Not to dwell on the weather, but two in a row is something to um, write home about. It's freaky how close the weather and seasonal patterns are between Shanghai and New York. Except for the dampness here, today could have been any winter's day in NYC. And Spring will give everyone false hope around the end of March, and then annoy us for most of April, before finally giving in and becoming beautiful for a minute before the sticky heat of summer sets in. But now it's cold and windy, and people are bustling about, getting on with whatever they have to do in their Shanghai heat-seeking missile kinda way. Today a guy on an electric bicycle (what's the deal with these anyway, do they have no brakes?) came barreling around the corner of Madang Lu and Xingye Lu at full speed and nearly took me out. He saw me crossing the road well ahead of him, but instead of slowing down (God forbid) he just put his well-worn loafers to the asphalt and started skidding along - just in case I decided to actually not yield to him. In the Shanghai hierarchy of street power he is technically higher than me on the food chain, but only just. Therefore if I had gone for it and he hadn't been able to stop (actually there is no way he could have, it would have been something more like a spectacular swerve) and he took me out, I suppose I would be at fault somehow. So scraping along, legs akimbo, he came right at me with his head lowered and a look of pure determination on his weather beaten face. There was just enough room for him to get between me and the sidewalk I had almost reached. I was clearly there ahead of him, so I thought no problem, he'll either stop (when will I learn?) or he'll go around me. But not our kid - he bore down and kicked it up a notch, emitting a low, guttural warning along the lines of "Eehehehhehheeee!" as he whisked past, just squeezing through the few feet of space between me and the sidewalk, and almost taking my laptop bag with him.
Now, I won't go into the various (and rather unpleasant) exchanges I've had with these guys (and girls, and grans), but I will say that it always leaves me feeling unfulfilled. I mean, what did he gain by that bit of daredevilry? Did he shave a few seconds off his trip? Was his trip so important that it was worth hitting me (or more likely me hitting him). Was he some kind of high level courier carrying highly sensitive documents? A doctor, perhaps? No, he was just a guy on a bike going from points A to B. But in the only way that most Shanghainese seem to know: Me first. Let me clarify that actually. I don't mean 'me first' like you might hear in a therapy session in Manhattan ("New York is such a 'me first' kinda town..."). This is more like just 'Me'. I don't think most Shanghainese really take anyone else into consideration. It's not like they are actually against you, or even competing with you (with the exception of cabs, but that's a whole other level of deceit), but hard to imagine as it may seem, they aren't even really aware of you. They just know what they want to do, and where they are going, and anything in the way of that is just an obstacle. So beware your neighbors getting onto the elevator as you're checking your mailbox. If you don't yell out to them they won't hold it for you - they're in a hurry. Beware the lovely girl who walks right next to you as you're obviously looking for a cab; so is she, and she doesn't even see you dude. Yes, beware I say! Beware the quaint old grannie standing behind you, now beside you, now wedging her way around and...thrusting her electric bill in front of you at the convenience (or China) store. Beware.
And so as I imagined my grandmother looking down on me today I thought how she would have been appalled at such behavior. It goes against everything she stood for. She would have really gotten miffed, outright anger not really being part of her repertoire. But then I also remembered the second half of that note she wrote me almost twenty years ago. In its entirety the note said:
'Remember my two favorite mottos - "All things in moderation" and "To thine own self be true"...That and a good sense of humor and you can't go wrong!'
So here I am, appalled and laughing at the same time. So attracted to this city and these strange people I'm so fascinated by; and more importantly laughing at myself. I can't afford to be too judgemental. I'm living in their world.
So I was walking around Shanghai today wondering if my grandmother knows what I'm up to. Does she know I'm living here? I'm sure she does...her spirit does. I had a funny idea of her looking down at me and wondering why I get such a kick out of this place. Moderation isn't exactly the city's motto, after all. I don't think it would have been her cup of cha, but I know she would love to hear about it all. So this day I am writing to 'Old Gran Gran'.
It was another nice day out today. Not to dwell on the weather, but two in a row is something to um, write home about. It's freaky how close the weather and seasonal patterns are between Shanghai and New York. Except for the dampness here, today could have been any winter's day in NYC. And Spring will give everyone false hope around the end of March, and then annoy us for most of April, before finally giving in and becoming beautiful for a minute before the sticky heat of summer sets in. But now it's cold and windy, and people are bustling about, getting on with whatever they have to do in their Shanghai heat-seeking missile kinda way. Today a guy on an electric bicycle (what's the deal with these anyway, do they have no brakes?) came barreling around the corner of Madang Lu and Xingye Lu at full speed and nearly took me out. He saw me crossing the road well ahead of him, but instead of slowing down (God forbid) he just put his well-worn loafers to the asphalt and started skidding along - just in case I decided to actually not yield to him. In the Shanghai hierarchy of street power he is technically higher than me on the food chain, but only just. Therefore if I had gone for it and he hadn't been able to stop (actually there is no way he could have, it would have been something more like a spectacular swerve) and he took me out, I suppose I would be at fault somehow. So scraping along, legs akimbo, he came right at me with his head lowered and a look of pure determination on his weather beaten face. There was just enough room for him to get between me and the sidewalk I had almost reached. I was clearly there ahead of him, so I thought no problem, he'll either stop (when will I learn?) or he'll go around me. But not our kid - he bore down and kicked it up a notch, emitting a low, guttural warning along the lines of "Eehehehhehheeee!" as he whisked past, just squeezing through the few feet of space between me and the sidewalk, and almost taking my laptop bag with him.
Now, I won't go into the various (and rather unpleasant) exchanges I've had with these guys (and girls, and grans), but I will say that it always leaves me feeling unfulfilled. I mean, what did he gain by that bit of daredevilry? Did he shave a few seconds off his trip? Was his trip so important that it was worth hitting me (or more likely me hitting him). Was he some kind of high level courier carrying highly sensitive documents? A doctor, perhaps? No, he was just a guy on a bike going from points A to B. But in the only way that most Shanghainese seem to know: Me first. Let me clarify that actually. I don't mean 'me first' like you might hear in a therapy session in Manhattan ("New York is such a 'me first' kinda town..."). This is more like just 'Me'. I don't think most Shanghainese really take anyone else into consideration. It's not like they are actually against you, or even competing with you (with the exception of cabs, but that's a whole other level of deceit), but hard to imagine as it may seem, they aren't even really aware of you. They just know what they want to do, and where they are going, and anything in the way of that is just an obstacle. So beware your neighbors getting onto the elevator as you're checking your mailbox. If you don't yell out to them they won't hold it for you - they're in a hurry. Beware the lovely girl who walks right next to you as you're obviously looking for a cab; so is she, and she doesn't even see you dude. Yes, beware I say! Beware the quaint old grannie standing behind you, now beside you, now wedging her way around and...thrusting her electric bill in front of you at the convenience (or China) store. Beware.
And so as I imagined my grandmother looking down on me today I thought how she would have been appalled at such behavior. It goes against everything she stood for. She would have really gotten miffed, outright anger not really being part of her repertoire. But then I also remembered the second half of that note she wrote me almost twenty years ago. In its entirety the note said:
'Remember my two favorite mottos - "All things in moderation" and "To thine own self be true"...That and a good sense of humor and you can't go wrong!'
So here I am, appalled and laughing at the same time. So attracted to this city and these strange people I'm so fascinated by; and more importantly laughing at myself. I can't afford to be too judgemental. I'm living in their world.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Words of Wisdom
Jan 22 was my birthday so I took a day off.
So now I'm back with a new attitude, a new age (don't go there), and...SUNSHINE in Shanghai! It's actually bright, and almost clear outside. The sun is valiantly fighting its way through a week's worth of dingy cloudscape. It's not an easy gig, let me tell you. The fog/smog clings to buildings and parks and rivers...to everything. It really is stubborn. But today I woke up and had the odd, almost forgotten sensation of actually turning over in my bed to face away from the intruding sunlight. But then I realised what I was doing and slowly looked back in the direction of my little sun room, and there it was - the sun. My plants were sighing and singing, and trying to stand up straight after more than a week of sleeping and slouching. Ah yes, life is good, the sun is out, and who cares about the cold?
Lately I have started entering little 'chinglish' phrases into my phone whenever I see or hear them. I should have done this ages ago, as I have missed many of the best ones, but as it's a daily occurance I don't think I'll ever have to wait long. Trust me, there's no shortage of fodder for this cannon. I was thinking of starting a seperate blog for these little pearls of language gone wrong, but perhaps it would be gluttonous to have them all in one place. In any event, here's a few of my favorites...
As I was walking along Fuxing Lu one day I noticed a small boutique selling bags, blouses, and other girly accessories. The name of the store: TELL YOU STEALTHILY. Hey, everyone loves a good secret, right?
One of my favorite restaurant names (and there are many) is on Nanjing Lu, near Gao An Highway. I believe it's a Hunan Restaurant, and it's called WISH DOING. As in I wish I was doing something better with my time? But I'm not. I'm doing this. Speaking of great restaurant names (why are they always Chinese?) one of my all-time favorites is in India, in the the lovely Bombay suburb of Bandra where I used to live. Yes, it's a Chinese place, and it's not bad, but alas, quite unappetizingly named STOMACH. Well that's where the food goes, right? The sign is even in that horrible 'Chinese Take Away Carton' font, making it even more...horrible.
By now I'm regular down at the old C-Store (not sure if the C is for convenience or China, or both...or niether) below my building. It's actually a great little shop, and has lots of edible things in it, unlike the omnipresent 7-11's of Bangkok. I have it on good authority, by the way, that there are more 7-11's in Bangkok than there are in all of America. Useless information? Possibly. Anyway, besides the nice pulpy grapefruit juice, shelled honey walnuts (amazing, delicious), and milk that I buy almost daily, they also have many useful items like CDR's and decent face soap (Nivea). One thing that always intrigues me about China is the way they are about sex. I could just as easily have said the way they are about everything, but for the purposes of this story we'll keep it to sex. Maybe I should say I'm amazed at the way Americans are about sex. Where we might have a special condom section somewhere apologetically tucked away in aisle 5, the Chinese (and the Thais for that matter, but that's a whole other ball game) have a huge display right at the point of sale. That is, right in front of the counter where you couldn't miss it if you wanted to. And it's not just condoms on offer: there are also lubricants, aphrodesiacs, and some other happy looking boxes that could quite possibly be morning after pills, but I'm not sure. Don't quote me. Anyway, it's a pretty impressive display, and I like its honesty, never mind outright commerce. People like sex and are having it (obviously, there are over 1.3 billion Chinese), so that means the little C-Store is selling a lot of rubbers. And that brings me to my favorite little aphrodesiac drink packets, Wonder Life. Their box says 'ENCHANTING DRINK FLAVOUR - FOR HAPPY HOURS BY TWO' The enchanting flavour on the box I picked up was green tea by the way. "Honey, how 'bout some more of that green tea, it's really got a kick!" (And I've got a kick stand).
This next tidbit comes from the world of health and fitness. My partner Richard Lofthouse (gotta credit him, he gave me the gag) decided he would do a bit of home exercise one day and bought one of those hard rubber stretch things that were popular in the States in the 80's - 'The Stretchesizer' or some such name. Remember? Well, it must've been 'dictionaries at dawn!' at the marketing department of this Chinese company when they came up with this description:
'The new type of pulling force named Lichao is made of the high-tech material (rubber, no less) of environmented protection'. Yessss! Lichao - the pulling force. But Environmented (sic) protection? Now that is a stretch.
I think that's all for today. I have a lot more of these little gems, but as I said, it would be greedy. It would also seem like I'm taking the piss, which of course I am, but in a really non-piss taking way. Really. I love this kind of stuff. It's why I travel and live in 'other' places. It's why I'll never be bored in Shanghai.
So now I'm back with a new attitude, a new age (don't go there), and...SUNSHINE in Shanghai! It's actually bright, and almost clear outside. The sun is valiantly fighting its way through a week's worth of dingy cloudscape. It's not an easy gig, let me tell you. The fog/smog clings to buildings and parks and rivers...to everything. It really is stubborn. But today I woke up and had the odd, almost forgotten sensation of actually turning over in my bed to face away from the intruding sunlight. But then I realised what I was doing and slowly looked back in the direction of my little sun room, and there it was - the sun. My plants were sighing and singing, and trying to stand up straight after more than a week of sleeping and slouching. Ah yes, life is good, the sun is out, and who cares about the cold?
Lately I have started entering little 'chinglish' phrases into my phone whenever I see or hear them. I should have done this ages ago, as I have missed many of the best ones, but as it's a daily occurance I don't think I'll ever have to wait long. Trust me, there's no shortage of fodder for this cannon. I was thinking of starting a seperate blog for these little pearls of language gone wrong, but perhaps it would be gluttonous to have them all in one place. In any event, here's a few of my favorites...
As I was walking along Fuxing Lu one day I noticed a small boutique selling bags, blouses, and other girly accessories. The name of the store: TELL YOU STEALTHILY. Hey, everyone loves a good secret, right?
One of my favorite restaurant names (and there are many) is on Nanjing Lu, near Gao An Highway. I believe it's a Hunan Restaurant, and it's called WISH DOING. As in I wish I was doing something better with my time? But I'm not. I'm doing this. Speaking of great restaurant names (why are they always Chinese?) one of my all-time favorites is in India, in the the lovely Bombay suburb of Bandra where I used to live. Yes, it's a Chinese place, and it's not bad, but alas, quite unappetizingly named STOMACH. Well that's where the food goes, right? The sign is even in that horrible 'Chinese Take Away Carton' font, making it even more...horrible.
By now I'm regular down at the old C-Store (not sure if the C is for convenience or China, or both...or niether) below my building. It's actually a great little shop, and has lots of edible things in it, unlike the omnipresent 7-11's of Bangkok. I have it on good authority, by the way, that there are more 7-11's in Bangkok than there are in all of America. Useless information? Possibly. Anyway, besides the nice pulpy grapefruit juice, shelled honey walnuts (amazing, delicious), and milk that I buy almost daily, they also have many useful items like CDR's and decent face soap (Nivea). One thing that always intrigues me about China is the way they are about sex. I could just as easily have said the way they are about everything, but for the purposes of this story we'll keep it to sex. Maybe I should say I'm amazed at the way Americans are about sex. Where we might have a special condom section somewhere apologetically tucked away in aisle 5, the Chinese (and the Thais for that matter, but that's a whole other ball game) have a huge display right at the point of sale. That is, right in front of the counter where you couldn't miss it if you wanted to. And it's not just condoms on offer: there are also lubricants, aphrodesiacs, and some other happy looking boxes that could quite possibly be morning after pills, but I'm not sure. Don't quote me. Anyway, it's a pretty impressive display, and I like its honesty, never mind outright commerce. People like sex and are having it (obviously, there are over 1.3 billion Chinese), so that means the little C-Store is selling a lot of rubbers. And that brings me to my favorite little aphrodesiac drink packets, Wonder Life. Their box says 'ENCHANTING DRINK FLAVOUR - FOR HAPPY HOURS BY TWO' The enchanting flavour on the box I picked up was green tea by the way. "Honey, how 'bout some more of that green tea, it's really got a kick!" (And I've got a kick stand).
This next tidbit comes from the world of health and fitness. My partner Richard Lofthouse (gotta credit him, he gave me the gag) decided he would do a bit of home exercise one day and bought one of those hard rubber stretch things that were popular in the States in the 80's - 'The Stretchesizer' or some such name. Remember? Well, it must've been 'dictionaries at dawn!' at the marketing department of this Chinese company when they came up with this description:
'The new type of pulling force named Lichao is made of the high-tech material (rubber, no less) of environmented protection'. Yessss! Lichao - the pulling force. But Environmented (sic) protection? Now that is a stretch.
I think that's all for today. I have a lot more of these little gems, but as I said, it would be greedy. It would also seem like I'm taking the piss, which of course I am, but in a really non-piss taking way. Really. I love this kind of stuff. It's why I travel and live in 'other' places. It's why I'll never be bored in Shanghai.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Shanghai Streets
Sunday, January 21st -
Since I moaned about the weather yesterday I thought I'd share some of the really great things about Shanghai - to even out the old Yin and Yang. Well it's really true, I do love Shanghai. It's an incredibly vibrant, nutso city with such rich east/west history. It's a speedball of a city. I recently read a pretty good book called Shanghai: The Rise and Fall of a Decadent City, by Stella Dong. It details the birth and growth of Shanghai from the beginnings of the European and American traders in the 19th century, to the revolution of 1949. Before reading the book I had only a sketchy idea about what it was like when it was the 'Paris of the east', but now a lot of 'typical Shanghainese' (you hear this all the time) ways and lifestyle make more sense. The city was built on commerce, for one: westerners doing business in China commerce at that. Opium- for-tea gets all the headlines, but there was so much more going on.
After the first so-called Opium War, when the British got Hong Kong, Shanghai started to become a serious hub for trade - and more importantly it became the first really open city in China. Chinese mixed freely with westerners, although the two were officially separated in their different areas of the city. But the great houses of Jardine and Matheson, Dent's, and Sassoon Bros. (Scots, Brits, and Sephardic Jews from Baghdad respectively) had to have Chinese compradores to run their docks and deal with all the Chinese workers - and these men became very rich and powerful. At the same time a powerful underworld sprang up around the futile (and hypocritical) attempts of the Emperor to outlaw opium. The men who rose to the top of the smuggling game also became extremely wealthy and eventually these rich Chinese began a parallel society that enjoyed all the same western tastes and ideas. So Shanghai has had free market minded, capitalist Chinese culture for well over a hundred years.
All of this was born of commerce, so it's no surprise that today's Shanghai is also strictly business. Thirty odd years of communist suppression couldn't keep down a fierce independent trader's spirit, and now that Shanghai has been opened up it's every man for himself. The skyline is changing daily, in front of my eyes. People are building skyscrapers in the same way that they once built robber baron style mansions in the French Concession. In fact, they're building more of those too. Their hunger for luxury brands is insatiable, and I'm sure Louis Vuitton and Prada sell more here than they do in the States. But all of this is not what I love about Shanghai. It's just the reason for the things I love.
Let me start with my own neighborhood. The other day I was walking through Xintiandi, which is an old neighborhood that was knocked down (by an American architect named Ben Wood) and then built back up in an idealised version of quaint cobbled alleyways and clever original looking stone row houses. Of course it's all filled with shops and restaurants now (Starbuck's and Coffee Bean within shouting distance of each other). It's expensive and perpetually filled with tourists and expats. It's annoying. It's also handy. Anyway, I was walking home (I live three blocks away) in a cold mist, the predecessor to a freezing, foggy night. I was walking with a friend who recently moved to the area also, and we both were complaining about the weather. We walked around the man made pond that serves as scenic backdrop for Xintiandi and also provides the 'Lake' for the newly built, and prohibitively expensive 'Lakeville' condos. Yes, even more blocks of old, foreign built row houses were obliterated to make Lakeville. The old row houses are definitely an endangered species, and except for a few areas in the French Concession they seem to still be open game to developers, and are disappearing quickly. Since I moved into my building ten months ago two whole blocks have gone down, and the one across the street from me is a ghost town now, waiting for the final tenants to clear out so they can start smashing it to bits.
Anyway, as we crossed Zizhong Lu and the recently crafted lake and Gotham inspired condo mini-city, we started walking up a road I've never taken before called Shun Chang Lu. As soon as we got past Fuxing Lu (one of the cities main East-West arteries) we were back in Old Shanghai, with it's frenetic emporium look and feel. This area is not far from the original old Chinese city, and is a maze of wiggly little roads that can end abruptly when they dead end into larger roads. The architecture is all low, two and three story buildings made solidly of bricks and wood - built by the French and Americans mainly, to rent out to Chinese workers that were the city's support system and backbone during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Each street uses a European system of multiple entries per block, with lovely stone entry ways and hidden courtyards leading to alleys and mini neighborhoods within the neighborhood. Of course most of the buildings are going to seed, as the Shanghainese are generally more concerned with function over form. But still they retain an old world charm, despite (or possibly because of) the washing hanging everywhere and the hodge podge repair work to original elements. For example, many of the street facing apartments have second story sun rooms with intricate, many paned windows. But this must get cold in winter, and glass breaks, so many of these are covered up with such charming materials as plywood and tin. It's sad, but you often see an intricately carved window frame with equally ornate stone work around it that's had the panes knocked out to make room for an air conditioner or worse, just boarded up for heating.
But Shun Chang Lu is wider than most streets in this district, and is wall to wall shop fronts on either side, so it's easier to forgive the aesthetic transgressions. Along the road I saw the usual human bazaar: clothes sellers, fruiterers (too many to count), a fish monger, barbecue guy on the corner wearing a muslim fez-like hat (from western China), a floating card game, smoke shops, and of course the omnipresent barber shops. There are two kinds, actually. The first are legitimate salons where young Shanghai kids get their main form of self expression done - some pretty funky 'do's, mostly aping Tokyo and Taipei styles. The second type is a small shop front with a pink light emanating from within, and you'll be hard pressed to find any scissors inside. Instead you will see (if you're so inclined) a gaggle of young girls from the countryside in nylon mini dresses, and all very healthily endowed. I'm told that they have small cubicles in the back where you can "get your hair cut". I wouldn't know, as I've never done more than look sheepishly through the windows as I pass by. Really, I haven't been inside one, but I admit I always get my voyeur on.
So anyway, all of this is going on...a normal street scene on a normal day. But this street had so much of it going on. It really was hectic, and I stopped to take it all in, and once again pinch myself say "I'm living in China". The Shanghai fog was coming in off the Huangpu River; a misty shroud, softening everything I saw. A last ember of sun was trying to fight its way through the filmy air, and I realised it was what they call in the movie business "magic hour", just before sundown. As we passed a knock-off clothing store a group of four High School girls, all of them cute, giggled when the ring leader said "Hello!" We smiled and looked back saying Hi, and they all took turns trying out a cheeky bit of English as they followed us for a while. "How are you?" said one. "May I know your name?" said another. And suddenly the street was even more interesting.
On the corner we discovered a pharmacy that I didn't know was there before. Good to know, as they can be few and far between in Shanghai. Across the street we stopped at a big fruit stand and bought some small, sweet 'mandarin' oranges which have just come into season somewhere in the south. I joked around with the girl working there, flexing a bit of my lame Chinese. She wasn't going for it, barely cracking a smile. Strictly business. But it's all good, and I will come back to check out this street more thoroughly soon. And tomorrow will show me something else I haven't seen I'm sure. That's all I really need to make me happy.
Since I moaned about the weather yesterday I thought I'd share some of the really great things about Shanghai - to even out the old Yin and Yang. Well it's really true, I do love Shanghai. It's an incredibly vibrant, nutso city with such rich east/west history. It's a speedball of a city. I recently read a pretty good book called Shanghai: The Rise and Fall of a Decadent City, by Stella Dong. It details the birth and growth of Shanghai from the beginnings of the European and American traders in the 19th century, to the revolution of 1949. Before reading the book I had only a sketchy idea about what it was like when it was the 'Paris of the east', but now a lot of 'typical Shanghainese' (you hear this all the time) ways and lifestyle make more sense. The city was built on commerce, for one: westerners doing business in China commerce at that. Opium- for-tea gets all the headlines, but there was so much more going on.
After the first so-called Opium War, when the British got Hong Kong, Shanghai started to become a serious hub for trade - and more importantly it became the first really open city in China. Chinese mixed freely with westerners, although the two were officially separated in their different areas of the city. But the great houses of Jardine and Matheson, Dent's, and Sassoon Bros. (Scots, Brits, and Sephardic Jews from Baghdad respectively) had to have Chinese compradores to run their docks and deal with all the Chinese workers - and these men became very rich and powerful. At the same time a powerful underworld sprang up around the futile (and hypocritical) attempts of the Emperor to outlaw opium. The men who rose to the top of the smuggling game also became extremely wealthy and eventually these rich Chinese began a parallel society that enjoyed all the same western tastes and ideas. So Shanghai has had free market minded, capitalist Chinese culture for well over a hundred years.
All of this was born of commerce, so it's no surprise that today's Shanghai is also strictly business. Thirty odd years of communist suppression couldn't keep down a fierce independent trader's spirit, and now that Shanghai has been opened up it's every man for himself. The skyline is changing daily, in front of my eyes. People are building skyscrapers in the same way that they once built robber baron style mansions in the French Concession. In fact, they're building more of those too. Their hunger for luxury brands is insatiable, and I'm sure Louis Vuitton and Prada sell more here than they do in the States. But all of this is not what I love about Shanghai. It's just the reason for the things I love.
Let me start with my own neighborhood. The other day I was walking through Xintiandi, which is an old neighborhood that was knocked down (by an American architect named Ben Wood) and then built back up in an idealised version of quaint cobbled alleyways and clever original looking stone row houses. Of course it's all filled with shops and restaurants now (Starbuck's and Coffee Bean within shouting distance of each other). It's expensive and perpetually filled with tourists and expats. It's annoying. It's also handy. Anyway, I was walking home (I live three blocks away) in a cold mist, the predecessor to a freezing, foggy night. I was walking with a friend who recently moved to the area also, and we both were complaining about the weather. We walked around the man made pond that serves as scenic backdrop for Xintiandi and also provides the 'Lake' for the newly built, and prohibitively expensive 'Lakeville' condos. Yes, even more blocks of old, foreign built row houses were obliterated to make Lakeville. The old row houses are definitely an endangered species, and except for a few areas in the French Concession they seem to still be open game to developers, and are disappearing quickly. Since I moved into my building ten months ago two whole blocks have gone down, and the one across the street from me is a ghost town now, waiting for the final tenants to clear out so they can start smashing it to bits.
Anyway, as we crossed Zizhong Lu and the recently crafted lake and Gotham inspired condo mini-city, we started walking up a road I've never taken before called Shun Chang Lu. As soon as we got past Fuxing Lu (one of the cities main East-West arteries) we were back in Old Shanghai, with it's frenetic emporium look and feel. This area is not far from the original old Chinese city, and is a maze of wiggly little roads that can end abruptly when they dead end into larger roads. The architecture is all low, two and three story buildings made solidly of bricks and wood - built by the French and Americans mainly, to rent out to Chinese workers that were the city's support system and backbone during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Each street uses a European system of multiple entries per block, with lovely stone entry ways and hidden courtyards leading to alleys and mini neighborhoods within the neighborhood. Of course most of the buildings are going to seed, as the Shanghainese are generally more concerned with function over form. But still they retain an old world charm, despite (or possibly because of) the washing hanging everywhere and the hodge podge repair work to original elements. For example, many of the street facing apartments have second story sun rooms with intricate, many paned windows. But this must get cold in winter, and glass breaks, so many of these are covered up with such charming materials as plywood and tin. It's sad, but you often see an intricately carved window frame with equally ornate stone work around it that's had the panes knocked out to make room for an air conditioner or worse, just boarded up for heating.
But Shun Chang Lu is wider than most streets in this district, and is wall to wall shop fronts on either side, so it's easier to forgive the aesthetic transgressions. Along the road I saw the usual human bazaar: clothes sellers, fruiterers (too many to count), a fish monger, barbecue guy on the corner wearing a muslim fez-like hat (from western China), a floating card game, smoke shops, and of course the omnipresent barber shops. There are two kinds, actually. The first are legitimate salons where young Shanghai kids get their main form of self expression done - some pretty funky 'do's, mostly aping Tokyo and Taipei styles. The second type is a small shop front with a pink light emanating from within, and you'll be hard pressed to find any scissors inside. Instead you will see (if you're so inclined) a gaggle of young girls from the countryside in nylon mini dresses, and all very healthily endowed. I'm told that they have small cubicles in the back where you can "get your hair cut". I wouldn't know, as I've never done more than look sheepishly through the windows as I pass by. Really, I haven't been inside one, but I admit I always get my voyeur on.
So anyway, all of this is going on...a normal street scene on a normal day. But this street had so much of it going on. It really was hectic, and I stopped to take it all in, and once again pinch myself say "I'm living in China". The Shanghai fog was coming in off the Huangpu River; a misty shroud, softening everything I saw. A last ember of sun was trying to fight its way through the filmy air, and I realised it was what they call in the movie business "magic hour", just before sundown. As we passed a knock-off clothing store a group of four High School girls, all of them cute, giggled when the ring leader said "Hello!" We smiled and looked back saying Hi, and they all took turns trying out a cheeky bit of English as they followed us for a while. "How are you?" said one. "May I know your name?" said another. And suddenly the street was even more interesting.
On the corner we discovered a pharmacy that I didn't know was there before. Good to know, as they can be few and far between in Shanghai. Across the street we stopped at a big fruit stand and bought some small, sweet 'mandarin' oranges which have just come into season somewhere in the south. I joked around with the girl working there, flexing a bit of my lame Chinese. She wasn't going for it, barely cracking a smile. Strictly business. But it's all good, and I will come back to check out this street more thoroughly soon. And tomorrow will show me something else I haven't seen I'm sure. That's all I really need to make me happy.
Friday, January 19, 2007
First Shanghai Post...
Shanghai, Jan. 20, 2007
So, here we go! Just wanna write something to kick it off, blog stylee! It's cold and grey in Shanghai and reminding me of London a lot - too much in fact. It's a dampness that creeps into your bones, and even though it's not as cold as say, NYC, it's worse because you never feel warm. On top of that very few apartments in Shanghai have central heating; the vast majority relying on air conditioners that also blow dry hot air out and use lots of electricity. It's a dumb set-up, but like lots of things in Shanghai, everyone just accepts it and says "mei ban fan" - which means "nothing you can do about it", or in American parlance a closer match would be "That's life". Actually Shanghainese people have developed amazing resilience to cold and heat (the summers are also brutally hot). Most times I get into a cab in winter, the driver has all windows cracked and is wearing nothing more than a sweater - careening around recklessly with red cheeks sipping his endless jar of tea. But for me I can't seem to get warm for almost a week now, since the sun disappeared behind a dirty blanket of clouds and smog. So why do I live here then? I've been asking myself that question lately too, but there's always the flipside. Firstly, I haven't nearly begun to explore this crazy city - even after 11 months. There's always a new neighborhood I didn't notice somehow, even though I live in the area, or a street that makes me stop and marvel at the mad life being routinely lived on it. But more on that later. Suffice to say that the good stuff is by far outweighing the bad stuff, and so here I am. The Shanghai Kid.
So, here we go! Just wanna write something to kick it off, blog stylee! It's cold and grey in Shanghai and reminding me of London a lot - too much in fact. It's a dampness that creeps into your bones, and even though it's not as cold as say, NYC, it's worse because you never feel warm. On top of that very few apartments in Shanghai have central heating; the vast majority relying on air conditioners that also blow dry hot air out and use lots of electricity. It's a dumb set-up, but like lots of things in Shanghai, everyone just accepts it and says "mei ban fan" - which means "nothing you can do about it", or in American parlance a closer match would be "That's life". Actually Shanghainese people have developed amazing resilience to cold and heat (the summers are also brutally hot). Most times I get into a cab in winter, the driver has all windows cracked and is wearing nothing more than a sweater - careening around recklessly with red cheeks sipping his endless jar of tea. But for me I can't seem to get warm for almost a week now, since the sun disappeared behind a dirty blanket of clouds and smog. So why do I live here then? I've been asking myself that question lately too, but there's always the flipside. Firstly, I haven't nearly begun to explore this crazy city - even after 11 months. There's always a new neighborhood I didn't notice somehow, even though I live in the area, or a street that makes me stop and marvel at the mad life being routinely lived on it. But more on that later. Suffice to say that the good stuff is by far outweighing the bad stuff, and so here I am. The Shanghai Kid.
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