Settling in in Shanghai

Having spent a week in Shanghai, we are now slowly getting used to a life in China. Having not wanted to make snap judgements about this new country (that and the hostels internet being down for a couple of days) I have waited until now before writing my next blog.

Firstly, the people in Shanghai take a little getting used to, and although we have started realising that most people are genuinely friendly and helpful, this was not immediately apparent and some behaviours were quite a shock to us. For example, the spitting - yes, spitting It seems that it is completely normal and acceptable to spit in the street, and so men and women of all ages are often seen coughing, hacking and then ejecting the contents of their throat onto the pavement. This is not something we are ever going to get on board with, but after a week it has simply become 'one of those things' that we can now smile about.

We learnt quickly that the Chinese don't really 'do' queueing and many situations in which a queue (for us) would seem like the most efficient and fair way of dealing with people (when paying in shops, buying tickets, going through doors, to name a few) the scene here reminds us of the last call at a crowded pub in England, with those who wave, shout and push the hardest getting served first. This also goes for traffic lights, as mentioned in my previous post. A red light does not mean a car will stop, and a green man does not mean a person can (or should) walk. Cars fly from all directions, jumping lights and honking their way through the city. Although cars really are the least of our problems as they are relatively large and easy to spot. The scooters, however, are without doubt the most dangerous element of this city. No one riding them wears a helmet and there is seemingly no limit as to how many people may ride on one. Toddlers stood between the driver's legs, girlfriends in mini skirts balanced precariously in side saddle position on the back, and another passenger squeezed somewhere in between. The most shocking part of the scooter culture is their love of riding on the pavements. Day and night (normally without lights) they continuously beep their horns and swerve around terrified pedestrians - they even wait to cross the road with the rest of us - bizarre! The final string of their lethal bow is that many are now electric powered - and these specimens make absolutely no noise at all, and so, at night, one can neither see nor hear them coming as they whizz up behind you. I'm considering having wing mirrors mounted to the side of my head.

Above all of these intriguing observations, however, the strangest thing in Shanghai would appear to be us; the nervous looking white haired man with knobbly knees and the red headed white girl beside him. Yes, we are drawing quite obvious and unashamedly prolonged stares from a wide variety of the locals, whose gaze can follow us a full 180 degrees as they pass us in the street. Mouths have been known to hang open, friends & partners nudged and nods in our direction cast. It has started to become something of a joke for us and I enjoy staring back, my lower jaw also grazing the pavement in fitting tribute. I have read reports by another British visitor that while sitting outside a cafe in another part of China, they were surrounded by local school children (at the command of the teacher) who pointed and stared, with other passers by even taking photos of them. It will be interesting to see how long the joke lasts for us.

So yes, it has been an interesting week where we have been stared at, frowned at, pushed and shoved and stared at some more, all as we dodge airborne phlegm balls and silent pavement, scooter related death.

But then, in the last 24 hours, something clicked...

We spent Tuesday of this week in retreat, slowly digesting our new surroundings as we rested and relaxed in and around the hostel which is a lovely haven among the chaos of the streets outside. We have a room above a quiet courtyard with a babbling pond complete with goldfish and terrapins, and a bar with a great playlist of British and American tunes (although I'm currently being treated to country and western christmas songs - it's eclectic at least). Here, in the shade of a bamboo bush, we sat; our heads spinning and our confidence in this unfamiliar land slipping. We sipped huge bottles of Tsing Tao beer as the nearby sky scrapers peered down into our peaceful world. We spent time on the internet, reading of other Westerners' experiences in China and of their own ups and downs, and slowly realised that we weren't alone. Perhaps we should embrace these differences, accept that we are definitely not in Japan anymore, and just dive in.

The day after our hibernation (yesterday), we ventured out once again into the unknown. We took in the Shanghai Art Museum and chuckled to ourselves as a middle aged couple stepped over the ropes to take a closer look at each picture while another group of friends had a lively conversation across the previously silent expanse of the galleries main hall. We then had fun exploring some nearby art deco hotels and buying our train tickets to Beijing from a lady who spoke just enough English to understand 'Beijing', yet was extremely helpful and patient as we gestured and pointed at her computer screen. We stepped into a ramshackled restaurant and had the best homemade dumplings we'd tasted this side of Brixton (£3.30 for 18 dumplings and 2 cokes - again, we are not in Japan anymore!) and were very grateful when the smiling tabarded owner showed us how to mix up the condiments to make a tasty dumpling dip of vinegar and chili oil. Later in the day, and with new found confidence, I even purchased a steamed bun from a pavement kiosk for a snack. These are fluffy balls of steamed dough, filled with meat and/or veg although without an English sign in this case, I wasn't sure which. "What's the worst that could happen?" I asked Rosie before biting into the unknown.

"It could be dogmeat", she replied. "Or heart, or brain, or pigs entrails...." Fortunately, it was minced beef..... I think/hope.

At night we explored the buzzing maze of streets and alleyways around Nanjing Street, spotting vendors selling everything from fake DVDs to drumming teddy bears, cherries and fake watches, and enjoyed various groups of local men and women singing, line dancing and waltzing in the blazing lights of the billboards and shop signs above. We held hands tightly and strode into another Chinese restaurant, with faded signs, greasy floors and cheap beer. We ascended the tiny creaky staircase to a windowless room above the main shop. The small space was filled with Chinese people (always a good sign) and bright white strip lighting which hummed above the layer of smoke clinging to the ceiling. Between two large yellowing AC machines, one of those giant animated glowing pictures of a waterfall hung, unplugged, dark, dusty and motionless. If ever there was a time to settle into the Chinese way of life, this was it, and we were already loving it. Menus were thrust at us and we hurriedly jabbed at some familiar looking dishes. The food was absolutely delicious. 

Sticky pork, spicy chili beef and fragrant vegetable spring rolls. No bones, no grissle, no hoofs and no talons - although judging by the food on other tables, this sort of thing was available to those who desired such treats. As we scooped up the last of our feast (leaving only a small amount to avoid offence) and slurping the dregs of yet more giant bottles of beer, we both agreed that actually, Shanghai is a pretty cool place once you get to know it. Vibrant, colourful, bursting at the seams and ready to give the most city-wise Westerners a run for their money. Each corner hides something new; a different style of architecture, another giant neon sign, a view, a smell, a row of street vendors...and probably another scooter.