An ayi*: a lady who comes to your house to tidy, clean, shop, cook, order water, pay bills… Pretty much any domestic chore.  So thanks to Valerie (downstairs neighbour) we’ve appointed an ayi to visit three afternoons a week.   The challenge for us is that she doesn’t speak a word of English, and our Mandarin has yet to sufficiently evolve beyond introducing ourselves and counting to 100.   Not quite sure how we’d cope without Google Translate.  Her first visit was Friday – a little overwhelmed by the number of tasks we’d set aside for her , she nevertheless did a pretty good job.   And apologies for using “she” and “her” – our ayi does have a name, but not in English!

(*The literal translation of “ayi” is ”Auntie”.  The one-child policy in China is apparently resulting in words like Auntie and Uncle becoming less useful, so in typical Chinese style they’re being reclaimed for other uses.)

A week of sun and boiling hot temperatures inevitably gave way to rain and a far more temperate feel on Saturday.  It doesn’t take long for 20 degrees to feel almost chilly (sorry for anyone in the UK currently reading this – the temperatures back home have been more like February than May), so a medicinal lunch-time hot rum was called for at a small bar in Tianzifang.

Later in the afternoon we visited a beer festival in the pouring rain (had to be wet to give it that authentic British feel) joined by Tim, Sarah and JB.  Plenty of beers to choose from; plenty to try and leave well alone.  Despite the weather, a great time was had by all, followed by a takeaway Thai meal (courtesy of Sherpas home delivery) back at Tim and Sarah’s.

I loved Bronwen’s observation that standing around the beer festival, chatting, we could hear countless other separate conversations taking place; the difference being here at the beer festival – for the first time in ages – we could actually understand them.**

As the antithesis of the safe, saccharine music emanating from most of the ex-pat-style bars in Shanghai, “Pairs” certainly managed to awaken the post-Sunday-lunch audience.  A bloke playing drums and a lass on guitar;  a fantastic racket from two people who seemed genuinely bemused to have anybody in the audience at all.  We’d gone along to The Melting Pot music venue following a lazy, late lunch to see The Noise Revival Orchestra, an 8-piece band from Austin (Texas).  Always a bit strange to watch bands in the daytime (festivals apart) but a great way to round-off a top weekend.

**I mean because most people there were speaking English.  Not because we’d magically learned to speak Mandarin over a few pints.

Never quite sure how much detail to go into in a blog… So let’s just say I lost the whole of Wednesday somewhere.  Food poisoning/dodgy bug/who knows.  Was bound to happen at some point.

The week had started on a high note – great first “real” Mandarin lesson on Monday evening with Bron, followed by a meal in a nearby Szechuan restaurant.  This despite Bron being convinced the blackened chicken was really frog (judging by the size of the bones), which is often to be found on the menus here.  The Chinese are effortlessly skilled at the art of using chopsticks to eat meat on the bone via some very dextrous tongue and teeth action (meat on the bone goes in the mouth, stripped bone comes out).  With us, it’s kind of meat on the bone goes in, tiny bit of meat gets torn off, rest comes out.

The benefits perils of knowing somebody living nearby means a late night drink is always an option.  Still difficult to get used to smoking in bars being permitted out here; Tuesday night’s bar (hidden away at the back of an American-style Bistro) was more smokey than Whitelocks in Leeds circa 1995 (and that’s going some).  To borrow a quote from Rachel, “My lungs are sad”…

And something amongst that lot was the cause of Wednesday’s lost day…

(The photo, by the way, is of Hengshan Moller Villa: an old mansion house now converted into a hotel from just up the road from us.  We do have green in Shanghai!)

Friday night = Karaoke night in Yang Pu district (close to the office), or KTV as its known here.  The venue for our attempt was a building entirely full of 50+ “private” rooms solely dedicated to Karaoke, with an obscure mix of songs being belted out at top volume from room 636.  The Chinese guys don’t half love their power ballads – with some powerful singing to match.  Radiohead, The Killers and Robbie Williams’ interminable “Angels” of course sung by the British lot (the last one nowt to do with me).  Bronwen celebrated the return of her voice by nearly losing it again during “That’s not my name” by The Ting Tings (selected by her thoughtful husband).

A trip to the Shanghai Brewery and a strange little bar for a few games of late night pool with Bron and JB ended the evening; finally making it to bed just after 3am.

A return to Indian food took us to Vedas in Jing An with Rachel on Saturday night; probably the best Indian meal I’ve had in China, and with the most expensive bill.  To continue the expense, Rachel took us to The Apartment (modelled on a New York loft-style lounge, it says here in the blurb).   A particularly popular place for ex-pats with wall-to-wall bodies; fortunately we had access to a reserved seating area.  Reserved via the means of purchasing expensive drinks…  All-in-all a top night out, but the cashpoint beckons very soon.

But it’s not all about the pubs and bars in Shanghai, honest.  Thursday provided our second Chinese cooking experience, with spicy Eggplant being the highlight this time.  Despite its insipid sounding title, this was the dish most of us had been looking to try and recreate at home.  And tonight I think we’ll be giving it a go.

Today (Sunday), Bron and I visited an exhibition of arts and vintage clothing in a local charity event.  A cool, hippy sort of venue, ruined by the presence of many Westerners displaying the inexplicable habit of carrying small dogs as fashion accessories.  They’re dogs.  They have legs.  They are not handbags, babies or muppets.  I know you’re very fond of your pets, but please put them on the bloomin’ floor; let them walk, sniff, do whatever it is that dogs do.  Or buy a fluffy toy instead.

We may have stopped off in a bar on the way home, but I may have needed a post-rant drink.

And a plea to future Shanghai shop designers; sheer glass panels may be wonderful for allowing people to see into shops, but they make lousy doors.  Especially when they open out into the pavement.

It appears going jogging first thing on Sunday morning – tired, hungover and with a cold – wasn’t such a good idea (who’d have thought?).  As a result, Bronwen has had no voice for the last few days, which made both Sunday’s visit to the Japanese restaurant and Monday’s first Mandarin lesson somewhat of a challenge.  Thoughtlessly, this meant Bronwen couldn’t really respond to our teacher, leaving me to do all the hard work.  My vocabulary now includes “Very Good”, “Your younger brother is busy” and “I am tired” (“hěn hǎo”, “Nǐ dìdì shì máng” and “Wǒ lèi” in Pinyin since you ask).

Shintori, the Japanese restaurant, was excellent.  The Shanghainese have a love of hiding restaurants and bars down alleyways and lanes with no signage on the street, ostensibly allowing only those “in the know” to find them.  Alternatively one could read about them in guide books.  The Shintori is somewhat hidden away down an alleyway of bamboo shoots, with little other than a big wooden structure (no indication it’s a door) to greet you when you reach the end of the alleyway.  This being a Japanese establishment, the big piece of wood automatically slides away if you get close enough.  Once inside, the grub was great, despite my normal reticence over Sushi.  We had met up with Rachel again (from pub quiz) and a friend of hers – a very enjoyable evening, with fantastic food and conversation, although Bronwen was bloody rude and hardly said a word.

Two things I would like to be capable of when I return to the UK: holding a (brief) conversation in Mandarin and cooking more adventurous Chinese meals than “Add soy sauce, pak choi and a bit of chicken to a wok.  Stir and serve”.  To resolve the former, we’ve booked a trial Mandarin lesson for Monday night.  If all goes well, we’ll sign up for 100 hours’ worth of lessons.

And for the latter, our inaugural Chinese Cookery lesson could probably be classed as a success.  Joined by Richard, John, Tim and Sarah, we made and cooked spring rolls and xiao long bao (otherwise known as “Shanghai Soup Dumplings”).   Not too difficult to guess which dumplings were mine and which were the chef’s?

Pub quiz news: despite coming 4^th on Monday night, our team (well, the team we joined) have won the season.  The prize confirmed as a 2-hour open bar session for 20 people.   That’s some prize…

An exciting Friday night was spent in a nearby Japanese supermarket – chosen for its large stock of imported products, including London Porter & London Pride.  And – the discovery of the week thanks to Bronwen – Shreddies.  A bargain at the equivalent of £6…  We’ve also discovered a butcher round the corner from us selling imported meat, including bacon.  Proper bacon.  Not the American stuff, nor the “elaborate bacon” we bought from Tesco which turned out be cooked ham.  And they also sell whole chickens – but whole in the British sense (no head or feet), so not really whole at all.

The necessity of domesticity (nearly works) reared its head again on Saturday with our second trip to Ikea.  A seething mass of shoppers, furniture testers and whole families seemingly born without spatial awareness against a few bewildered Westerners.   Never a battle I was going to win.  Two hours of that and I was ready for the Saturday night out.  Back in the Big Bamboo, Saturday night was proving a particularly enjoyable one until about 12.15am on Sunday morning.  Then a certain football match started.

It’s been ridiculously hot this weekend – 31 degrees as I type.  Given my standard UK tolerance level is around 21 degrees before I start melting, this is going to be a challenging summer.  Shorts are becoming essential everyday-wear (perhaps not in the office) which means my legs will see the sun (smog permitting) for more than 2 days this year.

Sunday has so far been somewhat relaxing for me, but Bronwen mysteriously got out of bed at 7.15 am (despite getting into it at around 2.30am), put on some running gear and disappeared for a couple of hours.  Apparently some kind of jogging activity occurred with Elouise.  Shortly followed by a return to bed for a very hot and exhausted Mrs Sims.  I emptied the Shreddies into a Tupperware container (insect proof), so feel I have also done my bit to keep fit.

And to celebrate our month of living in China we’re off to a Japanese restaurant this evening.  Of course.

There’s a scene in Die Hard 3 where Bruce Willis is forced to wander the streets of Harlem wearing a sandwich board featuring a very offensive slogan, particularly so for the local residents.  Five minutes after leaving the house today I realised the print on my t-shirt included a number of Chinese characters.  I’ve had the t-shirt for a couple of years but have never known what the characters translated as (or previously worried about it).  I don’t think I’ll be wearing it again out here – fortunately no angry looks but some comical and quizzical ones.  It may simply state “I love China!”, or perhaps “Made in China!”.  Bronwen, on the other hand, is convinced it declares “Gay and proud”.

Very tired now after walking nearly 10 miles to the Suzhou Creek Art District and back.  Some weird and wonderful artwork (and some fantastic nearby graffiti) – may well head back at some point to make a couple of purchases.

The “Curry House” (that’s its full name) restaurant on Friday night resulted in probably the cheapest restaurant meal I’ve ever had:  our meal for two came to the equivalent of £5.80.  No English available, so all complete guesswork (“that kind of looks a bit like chicken”) and pointing.

Following our working day on Saturday, we had a bit of a late night after staying up to watch the Norwich (0) v Liverpool (3) game with a 12.30am local-time kick-off, back again at the Big Bamboo in Jing’An with John Burgess.  That following the discovery of what is definitely my favourite bar (so far) in Shanghai.  The Kaiba Beer Bar (great name) sells imported beers, including London Pride and London Porter.  Expensive, but worth it.

Off out again shortly for a meal in a local restaurant and back to the Bulldog for the last quiz night of the season.   We’re hoping most people will have left Shanghai for the long weekend so we’ll win by default.  Somehow I doubt it.