Shang Hai on Life

A visitor spending time alone in big cities like New York, Paris, Berlin, and Shanghai might compare a bit to a kid standing just outside the display window of a great toy store - like NYC's FAO Schwartz - or wandering around the aisles, but without permission to play with any toys.

The city sparkles and entices and a while a lonely, short term visitor can participate in sightseeing, shopping, eating or pampering activities, she cannot expect to truly engage in what makes the city sparkle, glitter and "go." Nonetheless, with the right sort of attitude, one might derive a great deal of pleasure from simply gazing from the outside, so to speak, and taking in the delicious sights and sounds and tastes of the Shanghai toy store.

So, Friday night I dined Italian style with some Chinese friends at a restaurant run by a Shanghainese woman who lived 30 years in Milan and spoke lovely, lilting Italian and whose food, really, was as good as one can expect for Italian food halfway across the world. Afterward we went to see Harry Potter. This time, my movie viewing experience was in English, since unlike Transformers 2, I'd been anticipating this flick for about a year or so.

The stunning and (excuse me for judging, I love the Harry Potter movies) annoying cultural revelation I made that night that everyone seems to whip out the mobile devices more at movies than any time else - more so than while driving, on the subway, walking, standing on the street corner looking bored. Oooo... glowing lights..... There is just something, I suppose, about a dark movie theater, particularly one in which occurs the fantastically exhilarating climax that determines the fate of one Mr. Potter. Between the rattling of candy bags and flicking iridescent lights across the dark room... well, you get the point.

The next day I thought I'd brave the Bund alone. If you've been following, you'll known that I dined there my first weekend in Shanghai, and so it seemed an appropriate place to close my China chapters. After weeks of planned (though delightful) outings with my Chinese friends, the silent hours of aimless wandering was pleasant change.

By day the Bund reminded me of 5th Ave. NYC with a river-side Central Park directly across the street (though it's completely under construction in preparation for the 2010 World Expo). As I walked along the wide sidewalk, passing Armani, Dolce Gabbana, Gold Exchanges, Development Banks, shouting rickshaw drivers, laughing tourists (mostly Chinese, though the odd Westerner too), buses, and vendors, the wind blew and the sky shined a brilliant blue and I recalled the city's birth in the Opium Trade and comeback when the Shanghai Stock exchange reopened and international traders and businesses moved back in the last few decades.

Doubt ye not Shanghai's glory.

The shopping in this quarter too rich for my wallet, I simply made my way all the way down the promenade for a better view of the Oriental Pearl on lovely bridge. There I joined the cluster of tourists to take photos on the unlikely clear Shanghainese summer day.

In the evening I made my way to the French Concession for a two hour acro-yoga, ashtanga session during which I had my proverbial butt kicked by a tattooed, pony-tailed, American expat yogi. Afterward, some ladies from the class recommended a nice mani/pedi salon that in turn recommended a nice massage parlor where I enjoyed a deep tissue massage while my nails dried. Within a few hours my body had forgotten all about the twisted handstands I'd attempted.

The French Concession has been historically and still is where most ex-patriots prefer to live in Shanghai. It is asthetically the most pleasing area of the city, lower buildings, festooned with parks, and has the longest stretch of Art Deco buildings in the world. The latter comes as a bit of a shock, considering it is also the area where the Communist Government of China made its first gain in the '20s, hence the name of the neighborhood (which doesn't exist in Chinese), the "Concession." Truly, the neighborhood defies square block construction and faded, unimaginative architectual design the country's image projects.

Reflective of a great, growing, bold international city with vast professional opportunities, the ex-pat scene in China is young, bright, beautiful, and intense. Forget NYC, Paris, or San Fran. If you want to go somewhere to live life and make money, go to Shanghai where there's money to be made in just about every field, the night life is hopping, the people are pretty, and seem - from what I could tell - rather whip smart, too. Clubs are clubs, but as clubs go - the ones I saw had fantastic live bands, free champange for the females on ladies' night, a cleanc crowd, open spaces, great DJ's, weird add-ons like outdoor pools and seemily effective bouncers (but then, Shanghai's a pretty safe city too). Like all ex-pat scenes, one notices the darker underbelly of life abroad - local girls skanking out to expat guys, a touch of hedonism amongst the expats, and other behavior that goes along with these themes.

When out and about, one cannot help but learn a great deal about the Shanghainese life and culture - or at least a corner of it. And I think I did. But far be it for this lowly wanderer to claim intimate knowledge of a city quadruple the size of New York City with less than two weeks under her belt. Nonetheless, I can testify that the subway system is one of the best in world - if not the best, some Shanghainese do, in fact, wear their PJs on the streets, that there's a major fad in Shanghai - and throughout China - surrounding SMSing, mobile games and anything else on a little LCD lit screen. Ah, the Wonders of communication technology. I can also tell you that the city's booming and, economic slump and population problems aside, the 10s of millions of people-large city seems on the up and up in a big way.

If you have time, check out the 2010 Shanghai Expo... "Better City, Better Life" (one day). When out in this big city for a short period, there's no fun to be had if you just go out and have it. But after a couple weeks there, one does have the impression that to get into the gears of the city, much more time is needed.

Shanghai Daze Dog Night

As celestial events go, a full solar eclipse ranks as one of the most miraculous, most awesome and maybe - at times in history and in some places on the planet still - most fearsome. This July, from along a thin strip of southeast Asia and the Pacific Rim islands, appeared the longest solar eclipse of nearly the next half millennium. One of the best places from which to view this event was Shanghai -- geographically, though not necessarily meteorically speaking.

It rains in Shanghai in the summer. It rains. Buckets.

When I woke in the morning around 6am, the sun was visible in the sky but dark ominous cloud loomed behind it. Rather than curse my stupidity for leaving Jingzhou, where the weather was clear and lovely but a day early, I decided to pray. By my figuring, God's almighty and thus shouldn't offhandedly dismiss a prayer to see such a great event as a full, 10-minute solar eclipse. A once in a life time thing.. right? So, I didn't even ask Him for the full deal. "Just a gilpse, please. That's all I ask." Thinking my humility might be rewarded with, maybe, some magnanimity...

The Hua Ting Towers had become a home, if I had any place to call "home" in China, as I spent more nights there than any other place (about two weeks in all). I headed for the now familiar 5-star breakfast buffet and entered the massive dining room (to my mind, mini replica UN cafeteria) filled with squeaking tourists and businessmen from all corners of the planet, sucking noodles, slurping coffee, smoking cigarettes, and guffawing loudly. I swear the hostesses conspired against me daily, because I inevitably found myself cornered by several Japanese and some Chinese, all with (traditional breakfasts) large bowls of noodles before them; wet noodles that need to be hoisted heavily with chopsticks into the mouth and then vacuumed in the rest of the way, broth to follow later with much lapping noises.

Oh, give me a quite cafe corner or breakfast nook with a coffee and a pastry or one egg over easy on toast. I cannot bear breakfast-included buffets... especially ones with wet noodles.

In any case, after a breakfast of whatever I decided I could hold down that day (yogurt? Juice and a piece of fruit or cereal? The places that cater to Westerners, God bless them), my friend Grace and I went out, into the encroaching gloom, toward the stadium park across the street to find a place to view the eclipse.

In the week or so leading up to the great solar event, the Chinese government (news) had really broadcast information to the people, from what I could tell. Not understanding (really) or reading the People's Language (Mandarin), I rely on my ability to interpret pictures. From the photos of solar eclipses I saw on front pages it seemed to me, well... the word was out. My friends started counseling: "Be sure to watch the eastern horizon around 8:45am!! The darkest minutes will be at 9:40!"

In Shanghai, people sported the latest fashion, a short lived style: solar eclipse viewing glasses. Thick, heavy, square-shaped, grandpa lenses. Seeing these perched on peoples heads (not to mention the pair gripped in my own sweaty palm) only made the pain of those darkening clouds more acute. The weather worsened as the hour approached.

As Grace and I neared the park where still hopeful crowds amassed, the Man upstairs answered my prayers and gave me what I would later cherish as my one and only glimpse of the solar eclipse: The clouds parted to reveal the first quarter of the Earth's shadow as it began its half hour long march to cloak the Sun. Just a sliver of a shadow but enough for distinction. A glorious sight. Then clouds rolled back over. And, eventually, dark gray, sheet-like rain consumed the scene.

Around the park the punky looking, smoking Shanghainese, downtrodden, damp-looking families, half interested loudmouthed Aussies, frazzled local photographers, one lanky, croissant-munching and very focused photo-snapping blond guy and various other Shanghainese moved under a building overhang. But no one left the park. Everyone meant to witness this event.

Gray light turned to dark yellow. Yellow turned to dark gray. Then we simply slipped into night. The temperature dropped maybe 5-10 degrees Celsius. And at the peak of the eclipse, we stayed in dark, cold rain for ten minutes, motorcycle alarms going off as people shuffled around, unnaturally loud laughter, camera flashes blinking everywhere, loud, excited conversations replaced subdued disappointed tones, security guards closing around crowds, and streets and building lights blinking on everywhere.

For ten minutes one July morning in Shanghai, it was night.

And then the reverse process began. Black faded to darkness and then yellow and then gray and we began slipping into a rainy, dull morning again.

Later I talked to my friends in Jingzhou and they told me they could see the stars at the full eclipse. One said he could die tomorrow he felt so overwhelmed by the beauty. I haven't looked at the photos they sent yet... But I am I grateful for my glimpse of the mid morning night.

(photo courtsey Frank Zhou)

Honored Guest... or Lowly Intern?

I sense some growing concern in a few of you (names unmentioned) that there may be a little too much fun being had and not enough work being done. After all, I am here for an internship. That means peon-ship in Washington-speak, right? So what gives?? Now, just one second, folks....

Firstly, what some of you are noticing with respect to my experience thus far in China has much to do with the fact that I'm selective posting. There HAS been office drudgery (sort of). Furthermore, I did travel half way around the world and needed a few minutes (days?) to catch my breath and, uh, relax a little. Thirdly, and importantly, I can't just post ANYTHING I want about the company I'm working for..

Plus, I'm in China. I mean, I remember from back when I was a White House intern, this less-than-bright intern posted something on his blog about "W" coming to visit his office, and when and where. The Secret Service tackled the frontally-lobe challenged intern on his way to work and remotely exploded his computer. No they didn't do that. But he got in big trouble.

Big Brother is watching. That's all I'm saying.

Mostly, formally, lastly and most importantly, the big question: Am I an honored guest, or a lowly intern? There is the cultural matter to contend with here in China while performing my servile tasks as official summer peon. In the States, particularly in my hometown of Washington, the intern holds the position lowest on the totem pole at any organization. When photocopying is to be done, you get s/he to do it. After all, IF s/he's being paid, it's not much and so her/his time is worth the least. Here it's a different story. While my time may be worth relatively little when compared to my Chinese friends, I am a guest and as such am treated that way. The Chinese are incredibly welcoming to and simply seem to love their Western guests. It's almost unbelievable and at times totally embarrassing.

So you see, this attitude kinda mucks up the drudge-intern role a little bit. And if I told you more about my digs, etc. I'd just be bragging. So, suffice to say I'm over fed and well taken care of and if only I hated Chinese food (which I don't) or caught a nasty parasite, I might starve here in China.

A little about what I am learning: Something about ERP software, which is fantastic. I always wanted to know the guts of logistics, in particular global supply chain. The company is making sure I learn something about how manufacturing companies function on every level (I do mean every level). And so I'm visiting the two manufacturing components of the company to hang out and learn. In ServaShanghai I got to wear plastic protection goggles and walk around manufacturing warehouses with HUGE equipment.

I am still desperately hoping that there is hardhat with my name on it in the near future.

Lesson of the day: The Chinese and the Italians would get along swimmingly at the dinner table and on the road. They both order way too much food, most of it looks bizarre but tastes fantastic so you can't stop eating, and they eat family style. They also both drive like nuts, disregard all traffic directions, run reds as though they were not even there. I am thinking Marco Polo and the Stoics brought more of a lasting impact to Latin culture from the East than we realize.

Hello, Kitty! Slurp noodle in hotel on Thames when plane lands. Cigarette?

Here are some random observations, in no particular order, about life in one of China's Megalopoli
*Disclaimer: I live in hotels, not with families. And, while these observations occurred directly in the downtown and surrounding areas of Shanghai, China, they likely apply to some aspects of Chinese culture in general.

• The Chinese have a penchant for inventing new cartoon characters (remember the Olympics?). These bright, blimpy personages dominate the public sphere particularly before and during major events, like the Shanghai 2010 Expo and quickly become favorites for all ages. Nonetheless, old goodies like Hello Kitty are not forgotten.

• A long snort, a deep, throaty hocking sound followed by a weighty splat: This sound will always remind me of China. When the sound originates near somewhere your ear or is accompanied by a visual head cock, all you can do is hope that the immanentloogie doesn't land on you or your shoe. According to my friend, during the SARS event, Hong Kong banned spitting (if you can call it that) and now the only folks still doing the nasty deed are cabbies (who discretely spit into personal cups for fear of fine). Personally, I think China should take this Swine Flu epidemic as an opportunity...

• One large, elegant, sweeping arm gesture, originating at the shoulder joint, will indicate to a lost person or a guest where they should go. No awkward finger pointing. No flapping hands. No vague directionals "that way" or "left." No skeezy Latin body contact. Just a great, wide gesticulation of the arm.

• Yesterday I saw the Chinese "Village People" or maybe they were "New Kids on the Block" walking down the street in matching mesh camo tanks with a yellow dog.

• Evidence to Shanghai's outward-looking nature, outlets in hotels and office buildings can manage American, European or Asian plugs. And in case they can't, street vendors everywhere sell adapters. What's Chinese for "Vive La Chine?"
  

• Lately, I find myself identifying a lot with Bill Murray in "Lost in Translation." Not that I'm an old, balding, married man missing my family, or that I'm even in Japan. But I am in an Eastern culture, it's new to me, the language is perplexing and I'm living out of very nice hotels where the clientele is mostly business types and old dudes.

• The Chinese are very good and efficient umbrella walkers. Most people carry them when it rains and many when its sunny. I haven't been stuck yet.
  

• The kids here are damn cute. And they do the sweeping are gesture thing. Which just makes them cuter. I need to get one to say "NiHao" back without giggling and covering his mouth.

• The nouveau riche are the same everywhere, it seems. But they get the best neighborhoods here in Shanghai! One is called Thames River and has plastic dear poised outside the gate.
  

• No matter what district I go to in Shanghai at night... it glows. It vibrates. It shines. It's like New York City at New Years on steroids. It's fabulous. Was someone talking about carbon footprints?
  

• Has anyone mentioned how friendly the Chinese are?
  

• Everywhere has a smell. And I haven't figured out China's (or at least Shanghai's yet). Sometimes, though, you don't figure it out until after you leave a place and identify the smell. The smell of slightly dirty rivers and damp, underground waterways congers memories of Granada, Spain. Smells of burning trash and tropical vegetation reminds me of Haiti. Smells of cooking dough and spices, gypsies, dogs and damp old buildings makes me think of Bologna. But China, I don't know yet...
  

• Welcome back to the old school... and to smoking offices. At least in office hallways. I keep waiting for Darren Stevens and Larry Tate to walk by. Or their Asian equivalents. Wished I'd brought Febreeeeeze for the clothes.
  

• Mainland Chinese, my dear friend pointed out, isn't so bad sound-wise when it comes to learning the language. It has a lot in common with the southwest English accent: lots of "arrr" and "yrrr" sounds. But sounds aside, language learning here presents a different barrier... cultural. The gap is wider than with Arabic (odd, right?). Even telling stories back and forth in English can be tough. And if one party already has a notion of what they think you want to say in their head, well, forget trying to make yourself understood. "I would like wine." "Ok, you try it sometime."
  

• The farther East I get the more painful my yoga classes become. Ouch.
  

• Beware noodle restaurants: So good... so slurpy. When eating noodles, go with friends and make up your mind to slurp and suck your noodles along with them. No judging. Do not go with a weak stomach, especially because there might an old man sitting near you with his shirt open, sweat pouring down his face face, broth flying off his noodles and bouncing off his belly as he sucks away. Wear black.

• Soup (papaya and unnamed sea creature) to make you pretty.
  

• The number of stereotypical-looking straw hats increases the farther you get from a city center. I have high hopes for my trip to a traditional water village today.
  

• A few quotes regarding boys and girls: "Hot girls always get smart men. Lot's of people here. You should go out here tonight." "I will find you two hot bellboys to help carry your stuff down." "I think girl babies always prefer boys and boy babies always prefer girls"

• Thank God bamboo is strong (I think, I remember from 7th grade science).

Lesson of the week: China's on track to build about 4-5 airports per province over the next 3-5 years. Maybe I will go into the the airplane engineering business...

(to look forward to: post on Water Village... and post on Manufacturing and Business in China!! Which is what I am here to be learning, really.)

Lose Self, Lose Face, Lose ATM Card... Shanghai Wonderland!

When you only have 10 days to discover a new city and a new culture, you've gotta figure things out quickly, meet people, see the sights, get lost, and enjoy yourself... When there's a character-based language involved, an Eastern culture, confounding technology, and spectacular sights, sounds and experiences, the resulting first few days can be overwhelming and absurdly wonderful.

I am here for an internship, in case you were, in fact, wondering how the heck I ended up in China this summer. So Friday I hoofed it to work, navigating the bikes, motos, and cars that defy the boundaries of sidewalk and road. After a few hours with my friendly new colleagues, I decided there should be an "Office Space, China." The office is one space, like a department store, that seems to transcend most cultural gaps - except the air here is filled with multi-tonal Mandarin and higher-pitched cellphones ring-tones. Then, of course, there are the difference like, say, being told, "you probably won't find any of this software stuff interesting, probably, since you're a girl..." (thought: "well, one of my brothers is an actor...") Ah, well.....

After work, I had a drink on a friend's friend's friend's rooftop in the French Concession - a lovely neighborhood with trees, micro-brew bars, Moroccan restaurants and many an expat. A large group later found its way to an all-you-can eat and drink sushi place where food, sake and beer keeps coming until you can't eat or drink any more. For only $3-a-head, this seems quite dreamy... until you can't bare the sight of a 2-foot tall sake bottle or the smell of shrimp tempura.

When the established, Shanghai residents went out for more drinks, I decided it would be prudent to take my still jet-lagged self back to the hotel, otherwise I might never get back. Visions of getting lost in a Chinese oblivion danced in my head. However, it occurred to me it might already be too late when my new friend Bob (fluent Mandarin speaker), with the combined effort of my "get home card," could not make clear to the taxi driver where I needed to go.

**A "get home card" is the business card or the piece of paper or even the text message that contains the information in Mandarin and phonetic Mandarin about where you need to go. You can show this and/or read this to your taxi driver. It should be fool proof.. Otherwise you will be driving around a strange city with no idea of where you are and no ability to tell your cabbie how to get you home.**

A taxi ride from the French Concession to my hotel should have cost ~15 RMB ($1.5).. 50 RMB later, my chick cabbie and I were telling each other emphatically in our respective languages that something was up, "DUDE.. this is NOT the hotel.." She called her English-speaking people and I called my Chinese-speaking people and we swapped phones. Heated conversation ensued. The taxi driver lost face. But my lost self made it back to the hotel shortly thereafter with no cab fare to pay ("lost face" cabbie insisted). Another heated conversation and unintelligible debate. I end up winning (by using one of my 3 Chinese words -- "yes." Perhaps more loosing of face?). I handed her some yuan for the cyclical and bizarre trip.

The next day an Indian yogi bent me into a pretzel at a random expensive but lovely studio, I managed two successful cab rides between my hotel from the French Concession, and I met up with a very old friend who flew in from Hong Kong to hang out. For dinner, we went to a place called "M" on the Bund from where you can observe the insane Shanghai light shows on the buildings (happy 4th) and the famous Oriental Pearl (see above photos with large skinny, glittering building). Dinner, a lovely French fare, lasted just over 3 hours and afforded us much time to catch up after a half-decade separation.

Later we had a drink at the nightclub/bar downstairs where (mostly) expats sat about looking swanky and stoic, all ignoring the thumping techno music. It was an odd crowd - but expat crowds tend to be - though not so impressive for people watching. The bold exception was an androgynous couple that swung its attention from male to female all night.

As Sundays should to be... mine was a lovely one, complete with a foot massage. It might have been marred by the discovery that my check card was gone but fortunately, my hotel is lovely and the manager located it in the ATM machine immediately when I called in the morning... somewhat in a panic. You see.. where most places give your card back before you get your cash, here in China, you get cash, then have to ask for your card. Oops.

Any way.. My friend and I masted the Shanghai metro (people are so helpful here) and found our way to the People's Square (see photo) where we wandered for a bit between the main street and side streets (see photo). We found "Shanghai's #1 Department Store!" and discovered that electronics have gotten ahead of themselves here. We found a lovely little shack for foot massages. We haggled for designer knock-off dresses. Mine has a sequined face on it. Necessary. We ate yummy pork dumplings that gave me a belly ache hours later. And we parted ways in the evening she for her apartment in Hong Kong and me for my swanky 5-star in one of Shanghai's many business districts.

I have 4 more days in Shanghai before I head to Jinzhou in Hubei province. More adventures to come...

Lessons of the weekend:

* must learn some Chinese or continue to suffer the consequences of fruitless shouting matches between, say, taxi drivers who let me off in the middle of an intersection when I would prefer to be dropped on a curb and/or at/near a destination
* Chinese food tastes food but it doesn't necessarily do me good...
* Downtown Shanghai life is a light show... better than NYC at New Years