Coming Down from a Shanghai

Its a been a hiatus of a few days so get ready for a super-sized blog post. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.

So I went to Shanghai this weekend. It's actually the third time I've been there, the previous trips being the all encompassing China trip of 1998 and a further visit in 2004, but I didn't become self-aware until 18 so it might as well be my first time there. The differences between Shanghai and Beijing are as dramatic as the differences between New York City and Washington DC, the financial and political capital of our country, respectively. Yeah Shanghai is a lot nicer, I understand now why so many American college students go there instead of Beijing - it's simply more fun for a Westerner. Its huge and massively developed, I remembered from my previous trip how I looked out a window of my hotel and could only see a mind-boggling number of high-rises all the way to the horizon. However it generally does not feel like overcrowded, especially when compared to Beijing. The river helps add a sense of serene nature to a bustling city of busy people. But first let me tell you about how I managed to get to Shanghai.

My dad has been working in Shanghai for the past few weeks and is probably very lonely since he left me in Beijing. Today is Father's Day and my dad had asked me to join him in Shanghai for it, and after deciding I was not missing anything terribly exciting in Beijing this weekend (except for a trip to the opium den, but you know) I chose to be a good son. So I got tickets for an 8:30 flight and scram out of work on a Friday afternoon at 5:15. I got my backpack crammed with a few days of clothes, my contact gear and passport and an eager grin on my face brought on by the sheer joy of traveling. However while indoors busy teaching English, I had neglected to observe that heavy rain had engulfed Beijing. It was raining fucking hard, and there were no umbrellas to be found. Oh well, last I checked I cannot be dissolved, and so I bravely ran out to hail a cab. And none would stop for me. I ran this way and that, waving frantically at every cab I could find, and trying to avoid the stares that people huddling under umbrellas were giving me. Finally after a drenched 10 minutes a cab arrived and I yelled "FEI JI CHUANG" which when said properly means airport. The driver gives me a perplexed look and mutters something I don't understand. After asking him to repeat himself I make out the word "bus" and realize he's saying I should take a bus. This strikes me as odd and I insist that he drive me to the airport. He starts driving slowly and still says something about the bus. I'm like, I will pay you money but still he talks, so I call my dad and give the phone to the driver. I can hear my dad feeling my same frustrations and telling him just to drive to the airport. Well he obliges and then I realized that my driver was concerned that I wouldn't make my flight. The pouring rain was really slowing traffic. I tried to assure him that we had plenty of time, that my flight wasn't until much later, but then I realized that I might actually be in a jam. In China you have to check in 45 minutes before your flight and even though I got into the cab at 5:30, 7:45 seemed too close for comfort. In fact, after miles and miles of stop and go traffic and my driver sporadically freaking out, I finally got to the airport at 7:35, and still totally drenched.

Even though I had some clothes in my backpack, I was checking it in because I had liquids. So I grab a collar shirt, take off my soaked shirt (still had an undershirt) and stuffed that into my bag, check my bag in, and run to the bathroom, where I take off my socks and try to hand dry them. It was so awkward getting out of my tight shoes and socks, trying not to step on the ground, all in the middle of the bathroom. It was really a bad idea. Ok so I'm exhausted, grab some KFC and go the gate...except the gate doesn't even have an airplane. You have to take a bus to the actual plane. I can't remember the last time I've seen that. Anyways I get to the plane and absolutely crash. I'm dead asleep for and hour and a half. I wake up and notice we're on the ground...strange I don't recall even taking off. So I ask the guy next to me a stupid question, "are we in Beijing or Shanghai?" He gives me another perplexed look and says, "Beijing" and I just go, "fuck I was afraid of that."

I get into Shanghai around 2am, and apparently they closed down the highway to clean it, even though its pouring here too. So my dad got here late because traffic was awful, and I'm starving cause all I've had is a piece of Original recipe from KFC and we ask a cab driver where to get 24 hour late night, and he takes us to this real back alley seafood lane. There I felt like I was in China, in a stone road designed for rickshaws, with discarded crustacean shells thrown into the middle and wooden stands displaying some questionably barbecued meats. We go into one of those small whole in the wall restaurants that you can see in Boston's Chinatown, restaurants where the main level is like -.5, its half underground half on the ground, and just dig into a bowl of miniature lobsters. My dad said they were called Yarbies in Australia, I called them crawfish. And they were delicious. We were there for another hour and half, eating shrimp and abalones as well. Amazing food considering the overall dinginess of the place.

So at this point I'll pause from narrating my Friday night and go back to broad reflections of China. Well I had lunch with my cousin Bobby, the one who got me my job here, last night in Shanghai, at this great restaurant in this great nightlife area, and he really convinced me to view China with an open mind. Its not that I don't have an open mind, otherwise I wouldn't be in China now and Ireland this fall, but I am coming from America with a lot of American biases. I'm noticing the differences between China and the US and believing that the US way is better, and Bobby does not agree with that mentality. He points to China's roads, where the left turn only lane is often in the middle of the road as opposed to the left side, and initially saying how he thought that that was whack, but now realizing the many benefits of it. It makes U-Turning better, its easier for people to merge to, and in China you can't make a left turn on yield, so cutting off the straight lane is not an issue. So I'm really going to work harder on being objective of China and refrain from making any of my swooping characterization of this country for now.

I will say that I have gotten countless people believing me from being a halfie. From a shopkeeper in Shanghai, a cab driver in Beijing and Kate's friend Angie, countless people have asked me about my parents. I've gotten good at explaining that my parents are both Chinese, specifically from Hong Kong, and even though I was born in America, I am not half-white. I haven't been able to adequately explain that my mom is indeed mixed, but its not really that important a point. People forget, I mean I forget, that on my college apps, I only checked down one race. Except on my Pomona app, where I also put down White, and that was the best school I got into, but I digress. No I have never identified myself as half-asian and am somewhat amused, and quite honored, that everyone here thinks I am. I have always said that half-asians are the sexiest race known to man so take a wild guess what that's done to my self-esteem.

Ok so speaking of self-esteem, after dinner with Bobby, Dad and I went out the bars that were right there, mostly on my demand, because I'm the only alcoholic college student in that pair. The area really resembled an upscale Quincy Market, not the least because they were both designed by the same architectural firm. So its a really nice area. We first go to a bar that seems to be full of college-aged students and has this live rock band performing, except that the band was only loosely making music and mostly accompanying karoke as they blared Bon Jovi on the speaker system. Only in China. Anyways I can tell Dad doesn't like the music nor the crowd, so after finishing a Long Island, we head to a German pub across the street. This place is frequented by an older crowd, and has an older band doing covers of 70's songs. So now I'm the one that feels out of place, but I take solace in my lager. Well we're there for a good half hour and about to leave when this 35ish Chinese woman comes walking over to me. I try to avoid eye contact but don't quite succeed, and find her a little creepy before she says, "Are you Chinese?" in an L2 accent. So now avoiding eye contact with my dad, I reply "对但是我是美国人" which means yes, but I'm American. Like everyone else, she asks whether my parents are American and I reply no, they're Chinese, from Hong Kong. At this she exclaims, do you speak Cantonese? and I reply yes in Cantonese. So that's cool. And then she asks, "does your friend speak Chinese?" and thinking I misheard her, cause I'm not with a friend, I ask her to repeat herself. After she does, I respond, "no, that is my dad." And she flips out, and instead of running away embarrassed, she slides over to my dad and eventually asks him to buy her a drink. At that point we bolted. I've been called many things but I don't recall cougar hunter being one of them. Goodness that was embarrassing, if in a way, good for my self-esteem in a way that say, RL was not.

The Celtics can clinch tomorrow morning. I'm debating following the game live at work, or completely shutting myself off and watching the 12 hour delay without knowing the final result. I'm not sure yet, I think I'll follow it live initially and if it seems like a classic I'll put off the ending. I think that's enough for one blog post and I'll keep em coming.