designspark

Feb 1.  8:30 AM.

Food log (thus far)

(2) Airplane finely packaged meals. Strange fish variety served with white rice, cantaloupe and a cold rice/cucumber salad. Mostly delicious. 

(1) Airplane small sandwich containing what was labeled as chicken. Gooey brown substance that smelled much better than it tasted.

(3) Cups of tea throughout the day. No idea what kind as each was labeled in Chinese.

(1) Delectable Chinese meal at a restaurant close to hotel advertising “Gourmet Dinners”. Curry hot pot with mushroom, spinach, vegetable dumplings and noodles. Waitress demanded that my father retract his original attempt at giving a tip.

I have decided to briefly blog this week during my travels rather than writing collectively after the trip. While the food log may be rather uninteresting to many, I’m happy to simply document the items being consumed as I expect the cuisine to both delight and disturb me. So far? Delighted.

I have made it through the 14 hour China Eastern flight, arrived in Shanghai around 6 pm Sunday evening and successfully slept through the night. It is now 8:30 Monday morning and I am far too comfortable in the Hilton Hotel in a yet to be determined part of Shanghai. The only geographic certainties are as follows: many, many towering buildings lit up like Vegas casinos lining a series of historic wood beam and mortar apartments that are about three stories tall and sit within mere feet of each other. The hotels feels a little bit like a 1940’s movie musical set, complete with grandiose ballroom staircase, white marble floors and gold-plated cigarette dispensers. I have, thus far, counted approximately 5 in-hotel bars and witnessed the after party of a Chinese wedding (nearly run over by a presumable member of the bridal party, yelling erratically and smelling of whiskey).  After dinner across the street, my dad and I took the elevator to the top floor to discover yet another bar/lounge- a space which I had painted in my mind long before coming. Much like the movie “Lost in Translation”, patrons sat in dark leather booths looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows to the blue, orange, pink and green lights of the pulsing city. The corner stage lit in red perfectly complimented the clinking of highball glasses and the laughter of businessmen. I was immediately enamored.

Today we tour around a rain soaked Shanghai. It is around 50 degrees Fahrenheit and feels a little bit like a chilly San Francisco day. This will be my only day accompanied by my dear dad and I expect that we will do some habitual shopping, see the Shanghai gardens and possibly have dinner in the Bund area. Armed with my camera and my red coat, I’ll set forth. I will feel a small sense of victory if I am able to, at minimum, double my Chinese vocabulary which now consists of the words for “thank you” and “how do you do?”.  

6 PM

(1) Sensationally pleasing breakfast, which was ultimately photographed in its prolificacy. Egg whites/olives, stir-fried lettuce and bok choy, oranges, nut bread, grilled fish and green tea. And yes, that’s for one.

(1) Mid-day tea (more aptly described below)

(1) Bean and tofu soup to-go and eaten in hotel room. Outrageously good. Only complaint lying in the surprising discovery of a fish bone or two. No worries.

Back from my first official trek around the city.  Here goes it:

My dad and I decided upon taxing over to the Shanghai Railway Station which proved to be an authentic nationals-only spot. With the Chinese New Year just a couple weeks away, the station was flooded with travelers carrying everything but actual, certifiable luggage- plastic bags, burlap sacks, wheeled carts- likely traveling to visit family for the holiday. The thrill of cultural immersion pushed me along as I weaved through the determined crowd. I thought about the places they will go to and the people waiting anxiously for their arrival.  Tucked away in a corner and gripping the arm of a young woman, an elderly woman let out an unrestrained sob and wiped away tears. It was a moment of communicative clarity amidst the writhing Chinese chatter.

After the train station we wandered aimlessly, discovering a myriad of banks, stores, highways, cabs and the most KFC restaurants that I have ever seen in a relatively small section of the planet. Our aimless endeavors led us to the Jing’an Temple which contained a silver Buddha the size of a 3-story house. The grounds of the temple smelt like sweet incense and people devoutly knelt on pillows. As my mind churned uncomfortably with thoughts of diverse gods spread across the globe and living in the hearts of humans everywhere I shamefully picked up a Starbucks and immediately felt Western guilt.  That said, I was undeniably soothed by the interior of the coffee shop and its lack of customers. It may be the only empty space in Shanghai.

Another cab (18 RMB, around $3) took us to the Yu Garden located in the “Old City”. The mind-warped, theme-parked, strip-malled American in me whispered dubious inferences in my ear, saying, “This isn’t authentic. It can’t be authentic. Look at these pointy buildings with their so-called Chinese architecture and their silly lanterns hanging from the red shingles. Who are they kidding?” But they were real! The beef hanging in windows, the red rooftops and arched doorways, the shanty scaffolding made mostly out of bamboo- it was no movie set or Six Flags experience- it was right there, in China, and I was a toddler with little understanding of what she was seeing.

We spent a great deal of time trying to locate the gardens amidst the historic center. After asking at least 5 people who spoke little to no English and being massively misdirected, I finally realized that we must ask an adolescent as they would surely speak adequate English. Thus, we found a group of 12-13 year old boys who happily agreed to physically usher us to the Yu Garden. Following behind them, I noticed that one of the boys’ jackets said “happy boy” in yellow letters. I liked that.

The garden was cathartic and beautiful. It was built in the 1500’s under the Ming Dynasty containing cave-like rock structures and green ponds laden with coy fish. I became obsessed with taking the perfect photo of a Willow tree touching the sun-reflected water, however, produced a poor to mediocre end result. Typical.

Other observations of note include: cigarette smoking in any and all places, toilets on the floor causing a girl to recall and utilize her “squatting in the woods” knowledge, heart twisting driving behavior, large green tea containers toting around with everyone, and, yes, peace signs. Lots of peace signs.