This is it, our last night in Shanghai. We have 90% of our stuff packed and our bags are 100% full. That’s what happens when you come to a country that makes everything for the world.
The biggest challenge will be getting Henry’s new bass back home. Inside its hard case it is about seven feet tall and weighs a ton. It clearly violates every luggage limit set by the world’s airlines. Our travel plans involve spending a night in London before heading back to Minneapolis, switching planes in Detroit. I think that my curses about the great white bass case will be heard far and wide across the northern hemisphere.
Fortunately we had a great couples weeks of traveling over the holidays. We spent five days in Beijing, taking the overnight train to get there. Mingxu, the brother of our good friend Ming in Minnesota, acted as our host. He is an enthusiastic skier and took us to a different mountain every day. We even skied one day with the great wall surrounding us on three sides. At the end of each day Mingxu would take us to a different style Chinese restaurant. Much bai jiu, pi jiu and huang jiu were consumed. We ate amazing feasts, including our first authentic Peking duck. Hen hao che! The last day in Beijing Frances, Henry and I rented Bicycles and got a tour through an old neighborhood (hutong) near the forbidden city. It was beautiful and fascinating to wander through the maze-like ally ways and see homes hundreds of years old.
Then we said goodbye to Mingxu and flew to Hainan, an island that is the southernmost part in China. We stayed in Yalong Bay at a resort that two weeks before had hosted the ‘Miss World’ competition. The hotel was generally full of Russian tourists, since most Chinese do not take their winter vacation until Chinese New Year at the end of January. Henry and Jack played pick up games of beach soccer every day while Frances and I walked up the nearly desolate mile and a half of beach. The most unusual part of the resort was the group of wandering Paraguayan minstrels that serenaded the food buffets. It was hard to remember where we were.
But now it is over, except for the grunting and groaning part of forcing zippers closed. It has been an interesting adventure. After six months, Shanghai does not feel exotic any more. I no longer assume that I am going to die every time I ride in a taxi. Having twenty different kinds of dumplings to choose from is not a big deal. I no longer fumble when reaching for tiny one mao(12.5 cents) bills in my wallet. Time to go home.
Since turkey day is not a national holiday in China, we celebrated the Sunday before. Frances took the initiative and invited many of our new international friends (from China, Canada and Spain). At the last minute I bumped into an acquaintance from Minnesota and invited her as well. That brought us up to a total of twelve (14 if you include the two eight month old babies) for dinner in our not-so-big apartment.
The first big problem was what to eat- turkey not being a Chinese staple. Fortunately the Hong Qiao Marriott advertised a complete turkey dinner to go. We ordered the preassembled feast. I was sworn to secrecy that we had not prepared every bit of the meal. Frances spent a day in the kitchen preparing ‘enhancements” so that most dishes had some home cooked elements.
Our next problem was where to put everybody. By removing most of the living room furniture and lining up the dining room table and two desks diagonally through the space we managed to create a long enough table. But we were short a bunch of chairs. The normally helpful apartment office staff and next door hotel concierge were both unable to supply chairs. Frances courageously knocked on every door on our floor asking for chairs. Alas, no one answered. In a last minute stroke of genius, four chairs were borrowed from the apartment complex lounge. Fortunately there were no confrontations with the ever-present security guards.
The meal itself was quite enjoyable. Our guests brought wines from many countries, which flowed freely. I learned that you can eat mashed potoes with chopsticks. The two babies were very patient with our adult meal and entertained all of us. Henry and Jack managed to recall and sing parts of the Alicante, Spain football club song and Catalan Christmas carols. Other than the lack of American football games on the TV, it was an American thanksgiving in every way. Afterwards we snuck the chairs back to the lounge without any telltale gravy stains.
When we lived in Barcelona four years ago, we met a wonderful family who became our companions as we explored the city. While we have met many interesting people here in Shanghai, no one has quite fit the bill of accompanying us on adventures, particularly food related ones.
Many people we meet are hard working professionals, busy doing big corporate jobs. We also have met many interesting students who are saving their kuai to pay for rent or buy beer. So it was a pleasant surprise to meet Rolf and Kaki who like us are here for six months and trying to soak up as much of the local culture as possible.
Rolf is a Canadian anesthesiologist who works part of the year as a temporary MD in a hospital, then takes the rest of the year to explore some interesting place in the world. His wife Kaki is also a medical professional. They have an 8 month old baby who is a social magnet. They also have wisely hired a nanny, giving them free time for language study and exploring the city.
Last night we went with them to a Uigur restaurant, which served roast leg of lamb accompanied by song and tribal dance. It was a lively place. Frances was dancing in the center of the restaurant with the waiters even before we sat down at the table. After stuffing ourselves with lamb and local black beer, we piled in a taxi and went to the opening of a dance club named Space Ibiza.
Frances’ Latina connection got us invitations to the club’s grand opening. Imagine an aircraft hanger sized building with three stories of seating around a giant dance floor. Many private rooms set up for karaoke. Part of the dance floor was on hydraulics which bounced it up and down to the music beat. The djs were imported from Ibiza for the event. Lots of high decibel pulsing music, changing ever so slightly every ten minutes. We staggered out of the place around 1 am when things just as the place was beginning to warm up. Alas, our nights of late night partying are years behind us.
I know that Rolf and Kaki have a long list of restaurants that they want to visit before they leave in January. This is a challenge that I am sure that we can help them accomplish. While no one can really replace our good friends the Millikens, it is good to find some people here to help us explore.
This morning we ran in the Terry Fox memorial fun run. Since the race started at 9 am on a Sunday morning, at a park on the outer edge of the city, I did not expect many people. As it turned out, at least a thousand, maybe two were there. Like many things in China, it was different than I expected.
Most of the people were there as part of their business. I could tell by their large colorful company banners. Many of the groups also had their own coordinated hats, mini flags, towels, even inflatable ‘clackers’ that you would see at a sporting event. As the race started people continued running in groups under the banners.
Century Park is the largest in Shanghai. It is almost to the end of the subway line in Pudong, the newest part of the city. I was expecting something a little bit rustic. Instead there were beautifully manicured hedges and flowers, surrounding a large man made lake. There were small snack shops selling popcorn and soft drinks every quarter mile. We ran by elaborate topiaries in many colors and a garden full of bonsai trees. It is clear who has won the battle between man and nature in this park.
The run participants spread out on all of the available paths. Some of the paths cut off about half the length of the course, but that did not seem to be a problem. At times the runners with the ten foot wide company banners would lead their groups past slower moving groups. Some groups would slow down to catch their breath, and then sprint forward once again. This went on in somewhat chaotic fashion for about 4 kilometers.
Henry and Jack bounded ahead while Frances and I stayed in the middle of the surging and sagging groups. I don’t know if it was really a workout, but it was fun for all of us.
Much to my surprise, my father decided to come visit us in Shanghai. He and his friend Maud were going to be in London, so they decided to extend their trip here. His planned visit overlapped with the National day celebration, one of two weeks when nearly every Chinese worker has a vacation. So instead of only 14 million people here in Shanghai, another 1 million or so decided to show up along with my Dad.
My strategy was to avoid the most typical tourist spots and try to spend as much time as possible strolling the tree lined side streets of the old French concession. However one of the suggested activities was a boat ride on the Huang Pu River. It sounded safe. We get in a cab at the apartment, go for a boat ride and then get a cab ride home.
The problem was that the boat ride originates and ends in the middle of the Bund, Shanghai’s number one strolling destination along the river. The cab let us off about five blocks away from our point of departure. We muscled our way through the crowds and enjoyed a very pleasant and breezy ride along the river. Leaving the boat was another story.
By late afternoon, additional tourists were gathering along the river to get a good spot to watch the evening’s fireworks. The crowds along the normally pleasant promenade were shoulder to shoulder. Imagine the Minnesota State fair and Times Square on New Years Eve rolled into one. I became the designated blocker as we fought our way through the throngs. The temperature was at least 20 degrees above normal at a humid 90 degrees. I will leave the descriptions of street vendors and beggars to your imagination. Isn’t this every American’s stereotypical negative perception of a Chinese city- a steamy packed mob of people?
We ducked into one of the recently renovated 1920’s bank buildings to experience the opposite extreme of Shanghai- an elegant and refined afternoon tea service. We sat in a buffed marble atrium, sipping fresh squeezed juices and eating gourmet sandwiches in air conditioned splendor. Revived, we headed back outside, flowing with the pack of people to the Peace hotel a block away. As the only five star hotel on the Bund, it was my most reliable spot to get a taxi for the ride back.
No such luck. The street in front of the hotel was being closed off by police so that the pedestrians could fill out the whole street. We dragged our tired bodies out the back door, looking for the first open street. At this point I took a deep breath and tried to let go of my desire of a perfect visit. Yes, Shanghai has a lot of people and sometimes they all congregate in one place. And yes, despite that fact that there are 40,000 taxis roaming, they can be hard to find.
The Zen approach proved to be best. As soon as we stopped looking for a taxi, one appeared in front of us and eventually we made it back home. Not exactly a postcard outing but interesting none the less.
Frances has a special built in radar that allows her to detect Spanish being spoken, no matter where she is.
As we enrolled in our intensive Chinese language course, she detected Spanish somewhere in a room filled with a hundred or so people. Within no time she had become acquainted with Latinas and Latinos from Spain, Puerto Rico and Argentina.
We now share a taxi in the morning, going to school with Ava from Alicante. Spanish is spoken during the class breaks and after class. We have had a couple very pleasant evenings with some of the group, drinking Spanish wine and eating pan con tomate with Spanish tortilla. Little did I know that my Spanish language would improve in Shanghai from such a pleasant immersion experience.
While visiting Changchun, in Northeastern China, I was invited to join a group of Chinese heart surgeons, for a trip to a nature reserve. The reserve was a four hour bus ride to the North, almost to the border with Mongolia.
The bus weaved its way in and out of road construction, slow moving trucks, bicycles, and carts pulled by a variety of animals. This was accomplished without really braking and with a liberal amount of horn honking. Since this was the day after my big banquet with lots of Chinese toasts, I was not feeling in tip top shape. I consoled myself by thinking about the low probability of any accident involving 20 of the best surgeons in Chinese. In the event of an accident, what better company?
We arrived early evening unscathed at small simple hotel on the edge of the reserve. Outside on the parking lot were tables set for dinner and a roaring bonfire in the center. We proceeded to dine al fresco on roast lamb and milk tea- all local specialties. A couple musicians and a singer played local music while we dined. I was immediately offered insect repellant and turned it down, being a Minnesotan accustomed to all forms of hostile insects. What I then experienced was a totally new bug experience.
While there were no mosquitoes to speak of, there was a prolific display of beetles as the sun went down. I looked up at the parking lot lights and could see swarms of them blocking out the light. At the table level, small beetles were a minor nuisance, only a problem when they crawled under clothing and got stuck, finally resorting to defensive biting. Occasionally I would feel as if I had been hit on the back or head by a small rock. When checking the spot I would find a large black beetle, about the size of a quarter, resting after its flight. The dining continued without notice of such small distractions.
After dinner, the entertainment moved on to karaoke, followed by dancing in the center of the parking lot. It seemed to be ladies’ choice, and I danced with several of the heart surgeons and hospital employees on the trip. I learned several Chinese dances, including a great bouncy-step version of the lindy. All this time, being bombarded by beetles.
The next day we started with a breakfast of rice porridge and preserved eggs, which I am convinced is the ultimate hangover cure. Then off we went in jeeps touring the reserve. We saw many varieties of birds, all of whom must dine amply on beetles. The highlight for me was seeing four or five varieties of cranes up close. Some were just about my size.
We dined back at the hotel for lunch, having large local fish cooked in broth. They were served whole in big steaming metal bowls place in the middle of round tables, seating eight people. It is a thing of beauty to watch a group of Chinese surgeons strip a ten pound fish to the bone, only using chop sticks.
Afterwards we piled on the bus one more time. Then after the return bus ride and another banquet at our destination, I finally made it back to our Changchun hotel, tired and happy.
Gan bei! is a frequently heard toast at Chinese banquets. It means bottoms up. If you are one of two foreigners at a big banquet, then people will go out of their way to share a toast with you. I innocently emptied my glass each time.
We visited Changchun in northeastern China where our friend is a doctor in a new hospital. Our arrival coincidently coincided with the celebration of the hospital’s grand opening. He graciously included us in all of the festivities. I met local government officials, health care executives and physicians from all over China. Banquets were the order of the day.
Each round table seated about twelve people with a giant lazy susan in the middle. A new dish arrived about every five minutes until there were about twenty on the table. It was an amazing buffet with the food gliding by my seat. I partook heartily.
We started toasting with wine, then beer and finally moved onto clear 80 proof rice liquor. It all tasted good. Since I spoke practically no Chinese, I had little interest is offending anyone offering me a toast. Later that night I reflected on the wisdom of that decision, for about an hour in our hotel bathroom. Enough said.
I believe that my experience has been shared by many innocent westerners. There is no real American experience that I can compare to a great Chinese banquet- maybe a wedding feast crossed with a frat party.
We are living in a three bedroom apartment in Shanghai. It is considerable smaller than our house in Minneapolis, but it has a few advantages.
We are never more than ten steps away from each other. Back home we would spread out and hardly be aware of other people. In our apartment, I can hear every conversation. We tend to bump into each other about every ten minutes. This is not a bad thing with two teen aged boys.
One pleasant consequence has been watching movies together on TV. We watched In America, about new Irish immigrants living in New York City. There is something head spinning about living in Shanghai as an American and thinking about people starting new lives in the US. We had a good conversation about culture shock. The other night we watched Runaway Jury, which dispelled a few myths about the US jury system. I don’t think that either of those moments would have happened back home.
We have also played a game in the apartment called ‘Bang!”. In two teams we each hide a flag and then defend it with imaginary guns. You know that you have been hit when someone points their finger at you and says “bang!” You then are frozen while you count to ten. In our apartment with half of the lights off, it makes for an interesting game. Online gaming has helped Henry and Jack develop very successful predatory strategies.
These are good moment in our small apartment with our socially downshifted lives.
I am familiar with big, “category killer” book stores like Barnes and Noble, but I was still surprised by the City of Books bookstore on Fuzhou Lu in Shanghai. Imagine the basic square footage of your full-sized Barnes and Noble, then stack an additional six floors the same size on top of it. However the size was not the most impressive part of the store.
Browsing in bookstores is one of my favorite activities. It is fun to wander around, following my curiosity and reading a chapter or two of a previously undiscovered book. Eventually I buy something. The patrons of City of Books have raised the art of browsing to a new level in my eyes. Every display of books is totally surrounded by people reading shoulder to shoulder. Unlike the comfortable chairs in Barnes and Noble, there is only a thin stone ledge around the sides of the escalator. Every inch of it is covered with people sitting and reading, many taking detailed notes on pads of paper. Multiply this by seven floors.
It is hard to say how many of these people actually end up buying their books. The level of intellectual curiosity in the store was off the charts. I can only imagine what the local libraries look like.
This is our first effort at blogging...
I put many names on the notification list thinking that it may be a way to stay in touch. However, I realize that this may also be the internet equivalent of watching someone else’s bad trip slide show. Let me know and I will happily remove your name from the list.
Thanks,
Steve
It has been a couple months since I have done any yoga. The combination of a month of travel and hot/ humid weather has lowered my exercise motivation. With good intentions Frances and I signed up for 15 classes at a local yoga studio. “y+” yoga studio is on the top two floors of an old French Concession house. There are three black birds in cages that were somehow able to say ‘hello’ in Chinese as we walked up the stairs.
It was a slightly cooler day today- only a high of 87 instead of the 93 degree, 75% humidity weather we have had for the past week. I was a bit surprised when I walked into the yoga class and it was even hotter than it was outside. This was intentional- Bikram yoga is usually done at 104 degrees. Within five minutes I was rolling in sweat. This continued for 90 minutes. It was particularly warm doing lying poses on the floor since there was radiant heat in the floorboards.
The yoga teacher asked us to dedicate the class to someone. I thought about my mom who was always supportive of my adventures and did some yoga in her day. I also thought about Henry and Jack in their first day in their new school. Whenever the yoga poses were tough, I would think of them and get through the hard spots.
When class was over, I actually felt great. As it turns out two people in class also have kids at our school and were full of great info. The yoga studio has a place with pitchers of fresh juices (carrot, melon and watermelon) which tastes fantastic after sweating buckets. Every pore of my body felt cleansed of accumulated Shanghai grit. The showerhead in the men’s locker room was the size of a dinner plate and felt like a waterfall. I walked back out into the streets of Shanghai energized and ready for anything.
We opted to go almost the slowest way possible to China. Instead of flying from Minneapolis to Shanghai with a stopover in Tokyo, we took a train to Chicago, switched trains to go from Chicago to New York, spent a couple days in New York, followed by a six day transatlantic boat crossing to Southampton, England, three days in London and finally a direct flight from London to Shanghai.
Since we are going to be in Shanghai for six months, many of the time constrains for rapid travel to save scarce vacation days went away. My experience of two flights to China last summer convinced me that the 13 hour time zone difference creates jet lag that takes about a week to get over. Traveling slowly spreads out the adjustment time. Shanghai is also one of the most intense cities in the world. Spending time in Chicago, New York and London helped prepare us for big city existence.
Train travel continues to be my favorite way to start a trip. Our last month in Minneapolis was fairly stressful, trying to get our house and lives in order to be in China for six months. Train travel is as relaxing as flying is stressful. There is little to do but watch the scenery pass, read a little, play cards, eat a few meals, and fall to sleep in gently rocking bunk beds. It helped us catch our breath. Who knows how much longer distance train travel is going to be subsidized by the US government? It is a pleasant anachronism that probably has little economic benefit in our car/plane culture. I am glad that Henry and Jack have had a chance to experience it.
We also had the pleasure of spending time with family in New York and old friends in London. We had a delightful meal with Frances’ sister’s family at Rockefeller Center, under the stars(Dad's treat). My dad also treated us to a wonderful dinner at the Park Avenue Grill with my sister Karen. We also managed to squeeze in a cultural visit to MOMA (loathed by Jack) and saw Fourth of July fireworks just past the UN building.
Crossing the Atlantic on the Queen Mary 2 had an anachronistic feel to it as well. Every day was a 23 hour day, slowly allowing us to adjust our body clocks to London time. The scale of the boat is immense. Fortunately walking the decks became an easy form of exercise between meals. The weather was remarkable calm. There were also dancing lessons every day at 12. Frances and I learned the basics of tango, swing and some latin dance. It helped for the evenings when I dusted of my $40 vintage tux and Frances strutted her stuff in the best formal dresses that Minneapolis thrift stores had to offer. (I hope that I am not revealing any terrible secrets).
Henry and Jack were mostly absent for the trip. Since there was always a food buffet somewhere we did not worry about them eating. There were a reasonable number of kids around the same age and some lightly organized teen activities. They tended to roll into the room about 1 in the morning after closing the pool and having a late night snack.
In London, we had a very interesting introduction to two different samples of British life. Our good college friend Diney is now living in the countryside an hour or so by train outside of London. The house, gardens and nearby walks were all post-card beautiful. Likewise visiting Ian and Tina at their house in Wimbledon, followed by dinner at their local restaurant was extremely pleasant. The only common elements between the two places were the hearth-like Aga stoves in both kitchens. However I could easily see myself living in both places.
I was looking forward to flying Virgin Atlantic from London to Shanghai. Flying coach on a beat up Northwest 747 from Minneapolis to Shanghai convinced me that there had to be a better way to fly. While Virgin Atlantic’s 100 channel personal entertainment system was a quantum leap from Northwest’s faded projection screen, the leg room, even in premier economy class was sadly lacking.( Chose your seats carefully if flying Virgin Atlantic. The first row of premier economy looked most promising.)
Thirteeen days after leaving Minneapolis we arrived in Shanghai, full of good feelings from our journey. In much same way that a slow cooked meal savored for hours with good friends and family is superior to gulped down fast food, slow travel is the way to go!