Shanghai
We got in to Shanghai at about 9 AM and got
all our things packed up and said our goodbyes and good lucks to each other,
only to pass through customs and find that we were all beginning our journey in
at least relatively the same direction, with the exception of Brandon from New
Zealand, who needed to get his skis at customs, and so took longer to pass
through than we did. After standing
outside of the customs area (which was not much more than a glorified garage)
in the rain for a good twenty minutes trying to gain our bearings and soak in
the scenery (literally soak, in the scenery), we decided it was high time to
find the subway. I was keen to split a
cab with the two girls rather than walk in the rain, and we were just about to
do so when Nikko, Antonio, and Andreas (who had been living in Beijing for a
while) assured us that the station was quite close and that we would be able to
find it easily if we only asked a few people.
Unfortunately, they did not know how to say “station” in Chinese. And so my first Chinese word outside of “Thank
you” and “Hello” was born of necessity.
We began walking down the main street with
some kind of vague idea of which way we were supposed to be going, the rain
coming down on us, bouncing off of the sexy purple umbrellas we had received
from the Ferry Company upon our arrival in Shanghai. And as we walked, I was looking around
gurgling and wide eyed, suddenly an infant again in this world I did not know,
where one must cross the street even when cars rush zooming past, where men and
women show their wealth by hawking up giant loogies on the street, sounding out
a cacophony of phlegm before releasing the final expectoration (in a land where
many are poor, it appears as though the ability to spit noisily is held in the
highest esteem), where old women cook up glorious smells in woks on the
sidewalk under the gaze of massive skyscrapers, which seem to point up and up,
showing us all the direction China is headed.
Shanghai, even from the port, is an impressive city. The architecture that rises above the city is
beautiful, modern, and impressive, but still the streets and the people are
dirty, with poverty rearing its grimy little head out from most alleyways and
street corners. But most of all, I
noticed that people were smiling, that strangers were joking with each other
and patting each other on the back, that couples screamed at one another with
the zest of honeymooners making love, smacking each other with great bravado
while grinning ear to ear, as though this was the way to show the world they
were still in love even after the toil of children, after leaving the farm and
moving to the noise and the rush of the city.
Coming from Japan, where joy is a more
private affair, where the people are clean and well behaved, but noiseless,
faceless, often appearing on the surface to not even contain the ability to be spontaneous;
yes, coming from this place and landing in China was like leaving the Kansas to
discover a world of color. I am not
saying that I like China any more than Japan, of
course. I love Japan. I love the quiet, the rigorous contemplation,
the respect and reverence for those around you and for nature, but China is
the proverbial yin to Japan’s yang. If Japan is
the ocean, calm and noiseless save the occasional eruption of storm, China is
the earth, quaking and tumultuous. And
both of these Eastern giants (Japan in its wealth and China in its diversity)
have found a place inside of me that resonate like the singing bowls and gongs
which both countries employ in their religious rites.
Eventually the girls, Lucy and Lauren,
broke out the Lonely Planet phrase book and we were able to get to the
station. We figured out the Subway
ticket machine and got on the train, all of us heading in generally the same
direction. (Thanks baby for giving me
the RNB that was left from your trip last month. I didn’t see anywhere to change money at the
port and without that cash in hand I would have been in a bit of trouble.) As the train went on, all of the others got
off until I was the only one left, riding the subway on my own, with nothing
more than a name, a phone number, and some scribbled directions of how to get
to my couchsurfing host’s house. I got
to the station and called her, and in her curt, honest Chinese way, she told me
I was late without asking how my trip had been or if I had found the place
without trouble.
“Yeah sorry about that,” I said, “It took a
bit longer to pass through customs than I expected. How do I get to your house?” And she told me which way to turn as I left
the station and where to go, but only after hanging up and walking for a few
blocks did I realize that I had not asked the number of her apartment or even
the name of her building. So I get to
the corner where she instructed me to go and I find another phone, and after
another curt conversation where I get the feeling that she is annoyed with me
for existing, finally I am riding up the elevator on my way to meet Xie Jing,
who will be a wonderful host for my two nights in Shanghai, with whom I will
have fascinating conversations over incredible, inexpensive meals, and who will
time and time again tell me not to be so polite, that it is not a part of the
Chinese culture to be polite and that I need to be more crass from time to
time.
I tried, over the course of those few days,
to acquiesce to her demands but coming from me, the occasional “What took you
so long?”, “Your apartment is so small!”, or even the “Damn you have a fat ass!”
sounded hollow and tinny, like a little toy dog trying to express emotion with the
only “Woof” programmed into his circuitry.
(Ok, truth be told, I never once told her she had a fat ass, as that
would have not only been beyond my ability in terms of rudeness technique, it
would also have been quite untrue, as Xie, like most Chinese women, was quite
thin and may I add beautiful… don’t worry Kanae, we never once even considered
stepping outside the borders of friendship, but rather talked with each other
about the difficult realities of being in a long term relationship.)
So I dropped my bags off at her apartment
after a brief conversation and a few recommendations from her as to where I
should go, and I was off. I negotiated
the subway again and found myself on the other side of the river, across from
The Bund, which is the term for the area where an outcropping of 19th
century European buildings stand like underbrush amongst the massive
skyline. This area, north of the old walled
city of Shanghai was actually developed in the 1800s by various financial institutions
from all over the world and most of the buildings from that time still stand, creating
a fascinating dichotomy of West and East. Around the turn of the century the Bund was one
of the major financial cities of the Eastern world. Of course, with the Communist victory in the 50s,
most of these banks were put out of business or forced to move. At the Shanghai museum I was
actually able to see many of the early foreign bills used here in Shanghai. At night, the Bund is lit up and is quite beautiful
in front of the modern day skyscrapers. Definitely
worth a visit if you find yourself in Shanghai.
After walking around the city for a while and
going to a very interesting sex museum about the sexual practices of ancient China
as well as an “aquarium” with a few tanks and then a massive collection of sea life
taxidermy, including a number of Giant Sea Turtles with money placed all around
them, which were to be touched for good luck, and a massive Sturgeon as the main
exhibit, I passed through the biggest waste of cash so far on this trip. It was this passageway under the river with a lot
of lights and a laser show and just a really hokey cheesy ride, which I was the
only one foolish enough to pay for. But the
Sex museum was also billed together on the same ticket, and that was very interesting,
so I guess it was worth the money. The sea
life exhibit was quite sad, though, and reeked like formaldehyde.
Then after passing under the river I walked
along the Bund and was constantly hassled by people wanting to sell me watches,
bags, and all kinds of other things. “Bu
Yao!” I said, smiling at them. “I don’t need it!”
By the time I had walked through the Bund and
taken a lot of pictures it was time to meet Xie and a couple of other couch surfers
at a Sezchuan restaurant which was about a half hour walk away. The other couchsurfers names were Jen and Jay and
they turned out to be quite influential in the course my travels would take, as
they convinced me to fly to Kunming rather than to take the two day long train ride
so that I could go to an ancient town known as Li Jiang and do a trek through the
Leaping tiger Gorge. In fact, they might
have saved me more than just the time I would have spent in the train, as while
I was in the Gorge, the massive earthquake struck, and I may have still been on
the train had I not changed my plans. But
that is all for another blog, when I tell you about my experiences in the mountains
of Yunnan province, and hearing the thunderous earthquake which was stopped by
the mountains we were surrounded by.
After dinner, which was incredible and cheap,
we went to a Jazz bar, where the music was excellent, but the beers were a bit pricey
(about 5 dollars) still less than a beer at a bar in Japan. Then it was back to Xie’s place where we chatted
for a little while before passing out. More
on Shanghai in the net blog. Sorry I have
written so much again, but I hope you are enjoying reading about my experiences.
