Catch-up: Part One

I know, I know. It's been FOREVER since my last blog post - you all can give me a slap on the wrist the next time you see me. I've already posted most of these photos on Facebook, but for those of you who aren't my friend (to those in my Panera family, feel free to add me!) or those who have managed to resist the temptations of FB (Amanda), here's a quick recap of everything I've been up to since my last post. I've hunkered myself down in a Wagas cafe, bought myself a latte for encouragement, and told myself I'm not allowed to leave until I finish!

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Part One: The Bund

Despite being a city of 23 million people (!), I have never felt crowded in Shanghai. That is, until we visited the Bund. It seems that everyone in the city flocks to this riverside boardwalk each night to take in the stunning views of the Pudong skyline. And who could blame them? The sights almost make your forget how dirty Shanghai is. Almost.

The city itself is divided into two parts: the Manhattan-esque, ultra-modern Pudong ("east of the Huangpu River") and the more historic Puxi ("west of the Huangpu River"). My family and I live and work in Puxi. This area once served as the financial center for European nations occupying Shanghai in the early 20th-century, so the buildings are characteristically European. The Pudong area has only been developed in the last twenty years or so and has been aptly dubbed "Disneyland China" for its neon-lights and space-age architecture. Pudong also hosted the World Expo in 2010 - something the city is still very proud of!

At the Bund, we enjoyed the slight breeze coming off the water, were greeting with hoards of running children shouting "Hello! How are you?," and had our first picture taken with a Chinese family (this has proven to be quite a common occurrence). During out second trip to the Bund, my uncle took us to the bar on the 92nd floor of the Park Hyatt, which overlooks the entire city. It was one of those moments where my uncle and I looked at each other and said, "Can you believe that we actually live here?" SO COOL. 

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Part Two: River Town

Our first trip outside of Shanghai was to one of the dozen or so ancient water towns outside of Shanghai called Wuzhen. Since the train line was under construction and we shuddered at the thought of taking a tourist bus, we decided to go local and take the express bus. So, we loaded up on soggy corn-on-the-cob (a popular snack here), Oreos, and mango smoothies, and hit the road. Needless to say we were the only Westerners on the bus (or "Anglos" as my aunt calls them). We soon discovered that the bus drivers drove as recklessly as the Shanghai taxi drivers - slamming on the brakes, cutting across four lanes of traffic, laying on the horn. In China, drivers are taught to only be responsible for what is in front of them. Therefore, there's no need to check your mirrors or look over your shoulder before merging on the highway. In fact, those merging or making turns have the right-of-way here - the idea being that the people going straight can see them coming. I think I'd be afraid to even ride a bike here. Anyway, back to the story. No bus ride would be complete without the bus breaking down. Twice. Thankfully, we made it to Wuzhen in one piece in just under two hours. When we exited the bus, we were greeted by hoards of pedi-cab drivers yammering in Chinese. Spoiled by the endless supply of taxis in Shanghai, we didn't even think that there wouldn't be a traditional taxi available. So, we had to watch our poor rickshaw driver carry our big American selves - with luggage in tow - all the way across town. At one point, he had to get out and start pushing the bike. I was feeling mighty chubby until I saw another driver do the same with only a tiny Asian woman in the backseat. When we got to the hotel, we were approached my a middle-aged Chinese woman (who my cousin defines as a "socialite" - she had a choppy, dyed bob and was wearing a short black dress, a strand of pearls, and sequin sandals) and what appeared to be her two younger daughters. We spent about twenty minutes in an endless circle of confusion regarding when we paid the deposit, how much it was, how much the room was, etc. before dropping our bags in our rooms. When we went back downstairs, the mother motioned for us to follow her and mimed the action of taking a picture to ensure that I brought my camera. We then followed her on the half-mile jaunt to the "Old Town." She took us inside the visitor's center, took us to the window to buy our tickets, and found an English-speaker to translate that she would come and pick us up whenever we were ready. Such a sweet woman!

It was already dark by this point, so we decided to walk along the canals to find a restaurant for dinner. We stumbled upon a quaint little cafe by the river that's owned by a couple from Hong Kong (which means they speak PERFECT English). She sat us down at a table that looks into the cozy kitchen, and asked if we would like suggestions for what to order. We finally decided on a Wuzhen speciality - the "soy sauce duck," prawns with chili sauce, "river fish," and bok choy. This was without a doubt my favorite meal I've had in the almost five weeks I've been in China. It was so simple, but so delicious (or in Chinese, "tai haochi le" - It's too good to eat!). And I have to say, the Chinese are definitely turning me onto duck and pork (they don't seem to do chicken quite as well). It's odd to think that just a month ago I was a vegetarian! 

We spent the rest of the evening strolling along the river, traversing the numerous bridges, and peeking into bars that had live music performances. Even though it was night time, though, it was still incredibly hot and humid, so we turned in around 10:30, determined to finally buy a fan when we returned to Shanghai.

Wuzhen was a great opportunity to see a different part of China. Every time we leave the city, we are reminded of how comfortable and easy Shanghai is. While you can get by with little to no Mandarin in Shanghai, this isn't necessarily the case in smaller towns. This trip made us realize that we needed to start Mandarin lessons. PRONTO. We enrolled in a private class the next week, and while we still have a LONG way to go, we can now order at a restaurant, give directions, tell a taxi driver where we want to go, introduce our family, and make plans to meet friends. My new goal is to be as fluent as possible by the time I leave - wish me luck!

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Next blog post (I've already loaded the pictures - just need to take the time to write about it - so it will be finished soon!): Hangzhou, Xi'an, the Shanghai Book Fair, and the Pixar exhibit at the Shanghai Contemporary Art Museum. 

The Art of Making Returns

This past week, my aunt and I discovered the enigma of making returns at Carrefour, the Chinese version of Wal-mart Super Center.

Our mission: to return a vacuum cleaner my aunt bought a week earlier because it didn't have a brush attachment. Sounds simple, right? That's what we thought, too, but like many things in China, it wasn't so easy. The ensuing experience still makes us laugh until we cry.

We walk up to the customer service center and explain to an employee that we want to return the vacuum. He nods and tapes up the opened box. A little odd - you would think they would want to make sure the box isn't missing anything - but we figure he knows what he is doing. He then prints out a fapiao, an official receipt used for tax purposes, and hands it to my aunt. My aunt repeats that she wants to return the vacuum. He gives us a puzzled stare. Luckily, another employee who speaks some broken English understands and takes over. Before we know it, we are surrounded by three other employees chattering loudly in Chinese. The woman who initially sold my aunt the vacuum pulls various attachments out of the box, apparently trying to demonstrate that there is nothing missing.

Eventually, we ask to go back to the other vacuum cleaners to show them a picture of the brush attachment we want. The five of us practically run through the store and finally find an adequate replacement vacuum. My aunt shows it to the employees, thinking that we can return the initial vacuum and buy this replacement. One of the employees then rips open the box, shuffles through it, grabs the brush attachment, and starts walking back to the customer service desk. We all follow. She then tries to fit the attachment onto the first vacuum, which is not only a different model, but a completely different brand. It doesn't fit, but she keeps trying to squeeze it onto the hose, the other attachments, and eventually the top of the vacuum where the hose fits in. By this time, I am laughing so hard that I have to walk away, which causes the English-speaking employee to erupt in laughter, too. The others apparently don't find it so amusing.

So then, my aunt asks again if we can return the vacuum and get another. They all shake their heads and say, "No return. The manager doesn't like return." My aunt is a little frustrated by this point and asks to speak with the manager. In a few minutes, a stern woman walks up, and the other employees explain the situation in Chinese. She doesn't speak a word. She just glances over the vacuum for a few seconds before giving us a slight nod and walks away. Our money is refunded.

But we still have to buy another vacuum. So we walk back to the electronics section and are instantly greeted by two enthusiastic employees, one of whom is the woman who sold my aunt the first vacuum. They start pulling all of the vacuums off of the shelves, ripping open the boxes to show us that they have a brush, and pointing out various features of each (all in Chinese, of course). I decide to walk to the next aisle to buy a hair dryer, and sure enough, am rushed by another employee who points to the most expensive dryer they have. I explain, through a combination of English and hand gestures, that I want something smaller (and even more so, less expensive). She grabs another off of the display, plugs it in, and grabs my hand to feel the hot air. She repeats "san," one of the few Chinese words I do know, to explain that it has three different pressure levels. While I would like to look at all of the different models, I feel so rushed to make a purchase that I decide on the one she recommends. She then takes the box off of the shelf and starts walking away. I follow her to a cashier, where I happily make my purchase.

Finally, I meet my aunt, her new vacuum (with brush) in tow, at the front of the store. We look at each other, laugh, and say, "only in China."

The Shanghai Museum: Part One

Today, we went to the Shanghai Museum, which is located in People's Square. Since admission is free, we decided to only tackle the first floor - which houses the bronze and statue collections - and save the rest for another day (or 3). I'm looking forward to seeing the painting and calligraphy exhibits on our next trip! But until then, here are pictures of some of the artwork:

The museum was designed in the shape of an ancient bronze cooking vessel called a ding. The building also has a square base and round top, symbolizing the ancient Chinese view of the world as a "round sky, square earth."

This is a bronze water vessel with miniature carved animals in the center (fish, ducks, frogs).

Here's another bronze water vessel with an "interlocking dragon" pattern.

 This is a bronze drum stand; the drum is attached to a long wooden pole, which is placed in the center hole of this stand.

This is an earlier depiction of Bodhisattva, the closest follower of Buddha and the God of Mercy. While this figure was usually male in ancient Indian Buddhism, it was turned into a female in China when Buddhism was first introduced during the turn of the Western and Eastern Han dynasties (1st century).

This is one of my favorites! However, I only managed to catch the Chinese section of the description, so I don't remember exactly what this figure represents. I'm assuming she's another Bodhisattva (there were a LOT!).

Can you guess what this one is? Yep, another Bodhisattva. 

Oh, what a night ...

It's been almost 24 hours since I landed in Shanghai, and I'm already thinking about how much I'll miss it when I have to leave next year. When speaking with Chinese students at Mizzou, I was told that Shanghai was "a big, dirty city," with "LOTS of shopping malls." That "it's crazy, but [I'll] love it." And I couldn't agree more. 

Last night, my aunt and cousin picked me up from the airport (while my uncle was busy being interrogated by the Chinese authorities over issues with a work visa - long story). We rode the high-speed Maglev train (that reaches speeds up to 268 mph!) to the metro, took the metro further into town, and then spent a half hour trying to hail a taxi back to my family's apartment in the French Concession. As I'm finding with many things in China, taxis are surprisingly affordable (14-18 RMB per trip, or $2-$3).

After settling in, we went to dinner at a restaurant called "Spicy Joint." My cousin ordered nine dishes for our group of four (yes, a little excessive) - ranging from tear-inducing spicy chicken to clams and chicken feet (my uncle's favorite that no one else dares to touch). Since none of us speak Mandarin, he had to point to pictures on the menu while the waiter entered our order into a handheld computer. 

Afterwards, my aunt asked if I'd like to get a foot massage. By this time, it was after 11PM, so I was surprised to find that the salon would not only be open, but would be full of customers. Apparently, massages are quite popular among Shanghai residents, and many massage parlors are open well past 2AM. And for only 100 RMB (about $15) for an hour session, it's easy to see why. 

But the relaxation didn't last long. When we made it back to the apartment, we were surprised to find that a padlocked door had been put up behind the front gate of the building. After many fraught attempts to unlock the door, knock on the door, and eventually, kick the door, we finally surrendered and spent the night in a nearby hotel ("we" meaning my cousin, my aunt, and I; my uncle, whose passport was being held by the authorities, was forced to spend the night in his office). We all had a good laugh and reasoned that we could add this to the list of adventures we're bound to have in China. 

Today, thankfully, has been a little less hectic. After coming back to the apartment for much-needed showers, we went to lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant called "Pho Real." Silly names aside, the food was great! Although, I desperately need to learn how to eat soup noodles more gracefully with chopsticks. Between the slurping and the chewing, it's not a pretty sight. 

This will be my bedroom until my apartment is ready next month. It opens up to a balcony that has spectacular views of the city (which you'll see below).

Sala-isms

Anxiously awaiting my trip to China, I have been drawn time and again to a quote by Victorian journalist, G. A. Sala. I don't think I could express my feelings any better than this:

"I am not so wisely foolish to imagine or to declare that there is nothing new under the sun; only the particular ray of sunlight that illuminates me in my state of life has fallen upon me so long, and dwells on me with such a persistent sameness, bright as it is, that I am dazed, and sun-sick; and, when I shut my eyes, have but one green star before me, which obstinately refuses to assume the kaleidoscopic changes I delight in. I must go away, I said. I must rub this rust of soul and body off. I must have a change of grass. I want strange dishes to disagree with me. I want to be scorched or frozen in another latitude. I want to learn another alphabet; to conjugate verbs in another fashion; to be happy or miserable from other circumstances than those that gladden or sorrow me now. If I could be hard up, for instance, on the Bridge of Sighs, or wistfully eyeing my last real at the Puerta del Sol; if I could be sued on a bill drawn in the Sanskrit character, or be threatened with arrest by a Mahometan hatti-sheriff's-officer; if I could incur perdition through not believing in the seven incarnations of Vishnu, instead of the thirty-nine Articles; if I could be importuned for copy by the editor of the Mofussilite, and not the Morning Meteor; if I could have the plague, or the vomito nero, or the plica polonica, instead of the English headache and blues, the change would be advantageous—salutary, I think. I am sure I should be much better off if I could change my own name, and forget my ownself for a time" (A Journey Due North, 2-3).

It's Official!

The flight is booked, the contracts are signed, and my visa application is on its way. So let the countdown begin - I'll be leaving for Shanghai on July 21st! In the meantime, I'm taking my online teaching certification course, trying to learn as much Mandarin as I can (unashamedly with the help of Nick Jr.'s "Ni Hao Kai-Lan"), and squandering countless hours watching YouTube videos about all things China. Here's one of my favorites (at least for the cinematography) from BBC's "Wild China":

But before I sign off, I feel I owe a bit of explanation for the title of my blog. For those of you who don't know, my blog is named after the film noir starring Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles (see the trailer below). So while the next year may not be filled with murder plots, awful Irish accents, or funhouse mirrors, I'm looking forward to being able to call Shanghai home.