So I've figured it out. It's not that China is boring, it's just that Qingdao is the New Jersey of China. Shanghai, on the other hand, is New York City and Las Vegas and China Town all rolled into one.
Thursday:
We arrived by plane around 4:00, and we took a bus to the center of town, and Jim and I looked up and saw the coolest building we had ever seen. We just stood there and marvelled at it until we caught enough taxis to get to our hotel. (We were travelling with 13 people, 7 from Qingdao and 6 from Dalian. One guy from each program decided not to come with us.) I can't describe the building properly, I'll have to show you pictures, but it looked almost like it had grown there, and it was monstrously tall.
We caught taxis to the Pujiang Hotel, a godsend of a hotel with cheap rates, less than $10 per night, situated right at the head of the Bund in the dead center of town. We had to sleep five to a room in rather hard beds and in the wing that didn't have very good air conditioning, but the room was enormous, and we were happy to save the money. It was also amusing that right across the street from us was the Russian consulate, with a Russian flag and cyrillic writing and everything, and I found myself feeling 'homesick' for Russia again.
We threw our stuff down in our rooms and walked around town for a while. The bridge right next to our hotel had a gorgeous view of the Shanghai downtown, with its Oriental Pearl Tower and that awesome building we had seen earlier prominent, as well as a more conventional glass skyscraper with the NEC logo and a huge Coca Cola sign on the top. Most of the other buildings weren't as unique, but taken together, it was quite a sight. The Oriental Pearl Tower (a TV tower) looks like an upended syringe, with a ball close to the bottom and a ball close to the top. I don't know what the bottom ball was, but the top ball was the observation platform, spinning restaurant, and all that jazz. It had cool purplish glass encasing the two big balls, and the rest was silverish concrete, and the whole thing looked halfway between space-age and cartoonishly silly. Still, it lended a unique character to the skyline.
We walked down to a nearby square with a big monument to something or other in the middle and around some little shops that lined the street. Some of the others decided to arrange a little river cruise, and the rest of us went to find a place to eat.
Jim, in his usual way, had been obsessing about finding the Subway in Shanghai. I've complained enough about the food that you probably know how desperate we were for some decent, different food, and for most of us that meant Western food. Jim, Matt, Amy and I turned down a random side street off the Bund, and it turned out to be Nanjing Donglu, one of the main shopping districts of Shanghai, most of which is pedestrian and closed to cars. We passed the Peace Hotel, cafes, department stores, bars, and many many neon lights until we were so hungry we were about to croak (we had all been practically fasting in anticipation of Shanghai food), and then we stumbled onto a Pizza Hut. We decided to go there, and just as we got into the long line to enter, I looked right and saw a small Subway sign. I nudged Jim and said, "Look right." He did, and we all practically sprinted downstairs and into the almost-empty Subway--the only Subway in China.
It was one of those moments of incongruous joy that is hard to describe, but we all got a big, fresh sandwich, and sat there eating in rapturous silence. I don't even like bacon much, but the bacon on my Subway melt was an endless delight, and the melted cheese and mustard on my turkey was practically orgasmic. Deeply satisfied, we met up with the others and boarded a boat for our $5 cruise.
The cruise was nice. We basically went down the river with us facing the Bund, and then came back up with us facing the Downtown. It took about an hour.
The night was hazy, but the Bund is amazing, and it was very brightly lit up, and there were lasers (or maybe just bright lights) beaming out from many points in the town, and the haze scattered them all prettily.
The Bund lies on the embankment of the muddy Huangpu River, which flows through the center of Shanghai. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, the Bund was Shanghai's Wall Street. The buildings are "a vagabond assortment of neoclassical 1930s downtown New York styles, with a pompous touch of monumental antiquity thrown in for good measure," according to my Lonely Planet. They are also brightly and almost surreally lit up at night. They face the ultra-modern downtown on the other side of the river, and riding a boat between them was pretty impressive.
After the boat ride, it was around 10:00, and some of us wandered into a cafe to talk and drink. Only two people wanted a small glass of beer, but the waitress said something, and Wei (who only speaks Cantonese, not Mandarin or Shanghaiese) thought she meant they had to purchase three glasses. So he said that was fine, pointed at the menu where it had 10 kwai glasses of beer, and said he wanted three.
Soon she comes out with four giant pitchers of beer, and we think, oh well, for 30 kwai, this isn't so bad. We sit and drink and talk for a while, and at the end she comes back with a bill of 138 kwai (almost $20!). We tried to argue, but to no avail. We paid it, but we also ganked two Tsingtao ashtrays and a toothpick holder. Rip us off, we'll rip you off, bitch.
Friday:
Thursday night I was too overstimulated, too hot, and the poor excuse for an air conditioner was too loud for me to sleep well. Also, the bed was hard, and the comforter was nothing but a big terry cloth towel, no sheet, and the whole thing made it impossible for me to forget it all and fall into unconsciousness. The only time I slept was the fifteen-minute window the next morning when Matt and Jim came by to tell us they were going to the zoo. Amy said she didn't want to go, and they assumed I also didn't want to go.
Seeing the pander is another of Jim's obsessions, he's been wanting to see one since he got to Chiner, and Friday was the day we were going to go to the Shanghai zoo and see it. I missed out, but it turned out to be a good thing, because that ended up being the only day when Connie and I would get to hang out. (Connie Zhou is my friend from OSSM and Stanford who was born and raised in Shanghai.)
I called her in the morning, and we arranged to meet up at noon. I wandered around some side streets trying to find some xiaolongbao, a Shanghai delicacy that my Lonely Planet had recommended. But either there was none to be found or my sad attempt at saying a word in Chinese was no good (more likely). So I went back to the hotel and met up with Connie, who was with two of her friends from grade school, Wendy and Michelle (their American names--they didn't bother to overstimulate me further with their actual names).
Connie introduced us, and they didn't speak much English, so for most of the day, Connie was either chatting with them in Chinese or with me in English. The girls were all carrying moist washcloths, which they wiped their faces with or used as cool fans in the oppressive and drippingly humid heat of Shanghai. I think it is a brilliant idea, because the day before I had been dripping constantly, but with the washcloth, it's much easier to stay cool by wiping off your face, ears, arms, and neck with the cool water. And when it dries out, there's always a place to refill with nonpotable water.
Connie took us first to the upscale China Town-ish touristy part of the city, and we ate at a dumpling restaurant and had xiaolongbao, along with many other delicacies. The xiaolongbao was delicious, but I couldn't handle the way they ate it. It's a little dumpling filled with gingery pork and hot, delicately-flavored oil, and the way you eat it is to bite off a corner and suck out the mouthful of oil (I did this, and although it tasted good, the feeling of swallowing that much oil was kind of sickening), and then you dip it in brown vinegar and suck out the vinegar a couple of times, and finally you pop the whole vinegar-saturated thing in your mouth. I was content to dip it, fully loaded with oil, into a little bit of vinegar and eat it whole.
We wandered around a shopped a little, then we went on my request to the birthplace of the Chinese Communist Party, the buildings where the original CCP charter was signed in the presence of 19 Chinese visionaries and two Russian Communist International guys. There were wax figures acting out the momentous occasion, with Mao looking thoughtfully into the future while the others stared at him or the document, cigarettes in hand.
There were some museum-like rooms with pictures of Mao doing things like swimming in the Yangtze River, and beside the picture was an ass-enormous pair of white cotton swim trunks, cut like high-wasted speedos. I took a picture of Mao's trousers and his ping pong set on display underneath it.
Connie and the others and I went to a less expensive part of town to shop, which had open-air stalls and imitation brand names, and the others bargained for me when I wanted to buy something. I tried on a red silk Chinese dress, but alas, I do not have a Chinese body--I am tall and have breasts and hips. I also went to a place where they can custom-make silk dresses for about $75, but I decided it wasn't worth it. I am not Chinese, no sense in me trying to look like I am and paying out the ass for it. (Incidentally, not long after that I saw a very white girl in our hotel lobby wearing traditional-looking, ill-fitting red silk Chinese shirt, and she looked remarkably silly. So much for that.)
About the only thing I bought that day was a grey knapsack, which I have been needing, and which has a pocket in front that exactly fits my Lonely Planet guide.
Connie and her friends said they needed to go home around 6:00, so we said our good-byes on the bridge overlooking the downtown, and I went back to the hotel to meet up with the others.
Twelve of us went to dinner, all but Jim, who doesn't really like most of the people in question besides me and Matt and Amy, and he hates travelling in big groups, and he also knew we were going for Chinese food, and furthermore, it looked like Boer would be doing our ordering. Put all these together, and Jim is in hell.
I happen to like most of the Dalian crew, and I wanted to spend some time with them and catch up on stories and gossip, so I endured the Chinese food, Boer's negativity, Kiran's disapproving looks, James' occasional attempt at being cool ["Did you guys know that marijuana grows wildly all over Dalian?"], and the sweating and raking. And we had a good time.
We exchanged our stories, and most of ours revolved around Jim, who wasn't there to defend himself. Their funniest story was when Gayle was walking along the campus one day, and suddenly she looked down and noticed brown stuff all up and down her leg. She looked all over, but the only thing near her was a couple of people leading a child (in buttless pants, of course) and giggling, who had just passed her. We all laughed in disbelief, then Amy said, "Imagine if that had happened to Jim," and we all about died. I tried to imagine what his face would do if that happened, but I think his head would just explode.
Afterwards, we headed for the Grand Hyatt tower (the same cool building we had seen at the beginning) to meet up with Jim at the 87th floor bar and look over the city. Seven of us, Matt, Amy, Brian, Wei, Kim, Erin and I, took taxis to the building while the other four walked. We went up to the 54th floor, which was the start of the Hyatt (the first 53 floors are office buildings, I think). We walked across the hall to the elevators that would take us to the 87th floor, but we were stopped and informed that we weren't dressed properly to step foot up there. We were all wearing shorts and sandals, and the 87th floor Cloud Nine Bar was a classy affair.
So we looked around the 54th floor for a coffee shop or bar, anything with chairs and a view. We were thrown out of another one for lack of dress, but a friendly maitre d' told us of a coffee shop nearby and yet another bar where we could possibly get in.
We went to the coffee shop first, and when we stepped inside, we could tell that the ceiling was very high, and as we stepped further in, it just kept going higher and higher. Finally we were standing and staring up at a dome thirty floors above us, with balconies all around shining softly white and gold. It was impressive to stand on the 54th floor of a building and stare up at thirty more.
Unfortunately, this piano bar didn't have a view to speak of, unless you looked straight up, so we tried the other bar. Once again we were stopped for lack of pants and socks, but another friendly maitre d' allowed us girls to go in, and took the boys to a back room where they could borrow some black pants. We were shown to a table with leather couches all around a magnificent view of the lit-up Bund, the TV tower, and the rest of the city. There was no cover, but we were required to spend at least 95 kwai ($12) while there. That was about what two drinks cost, so it wasn't a problem. And it was more than worth it.
As soon as we were settled in, the boys came out in their T-shirts and ill-fitting new black pants and sneakers. We ordered the first round, and Brian and Wei each ordered a Cuban cigar. I had a Cosmopolitan, and we sipped and smoked and munched on some gourmet peanut snacks and talked and looked out at the breathtaking views and settled down in the comfy leather couches in our style-moderne surroundings to our hearts' content. It occurred to me that some gooey chocolate cake would make the moment complete, and I asked for a dessert menu. They didn't have any chocolate cake, but Matt and I saw a dessert--carmelized bananas with ice cream, chocolate sauce, and hazelnuts--that we thought looked almost as good. We ordered one to split, and he moved to my couch to share it.
They only brought us one fork, so I put together a bite with all the ingredients on it and fed it to Matt. Then I fed myself, then Matt again, and after a while I gave him the fork to feed us. Food does somehow taste better when other people put it together and feed it to you.
Afterwards we lay back against the leather couch, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and sighed happily. Amy laughed and said, "You two look post-coital." We felt almost post-coital. It's amazing how good food, good company, two strong drinks, and a temporary reprieve from months of several kinds of deprivation can do that to you. Amy wanted a picture, so we put our arms around each other, and after she took the picture, we stayed with our arms around each other until 10:00, when the announcement for who got the 2008 Olympic bid would come in from Moscow.
It is hard to convey how big a deal the 2008 Olympics is to Beijing. They tried to get them in 2000. They put countless amounts of money, time, prestige, and lobbying into it, and they even released some political prisoners to show what an open and modern and free-thinking nation they were. They wanted the Olympics badly; it would seal their place as a modern nation, and probably help them get into the World Trade Organization.
When they didn't get it, they lost a lot of money and face, and it felt like a snub that the world saw the effort they put into getting the Olympics and gave it to someone else anyway. They even re-arrested the political prisoners they had released.
I personally don't know if they deserved it then or now. Beijing is a cesspool of crumbling infrastructure, foul air (running in it is akin to smoking half a pack), lack of clean water, and lack of money (I'm still not sure how they're going to afford to build all they need to build, or how many people are going to want to come to Beijing of all places to watch the Olympics), and the government is a cesspool of corruption, and their human rights record continues to be abysmal. Not that this reflects badly on the Chinese people (probably less than W. reflects badly on us, because the Chinese people don't get to choose their government), but to endorse some of the acts of the Chinese government is not something I necessarily agree with. But then again, if you ruled out every nation that had a corrupt government and a dismal human rights record, that wouldn't leave a hell of a lot, least of all the good ole U.S. of A.
And everywhere in China there are posters and banners and T-shirts and day-count-downers and money and hope that China will finally get her acceptance invitation into the modern world. And at 10:00 p.m., we saw the fireworks going off in the distance, and a crying waitress informed us that Beijing got it. "It is a win! It is a win!"
It was an exciting moment, one of the more exciting of my life, to be sitting up on the 54th floor of the Shanghai Hyatt with some good friends, sipping a Long Island iced tea, looking out over the Bund and the towers and the fireworks and taking in a moment of historical importance.
At 11:00, the lights of Shanghai winked out one by one, and soon after that we headed back to our hotel room. The other five in our group never made it to the bar we were in, but we met them back at the hotel.
Matt and Jim and I decided the night was too young and Shanghai too exciting to turn in now. We set out in search of a good club, and I read about a gay bar in our Lonely Planet that sounded promising (gay bars always have the best music, and usually the hippest crowds), but when we got to the address specified, there was only a dark alley, no disco in sight. We asked the next cab driver to take us to a good bar, and he took us to a sad little dark bar full of old fat white dudes and young Asian women, and as soon as I got up to go to the bathroom, the prostitutes swarmed Jim and Matt. We left shortly thereafter, returning to the hotel in defeat.
I was drunk enough to fall asleep fairly quickly, but there weren't a lot of hours left in the night by then.
(to be continued...)
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