Tag Archives: travel

October 28th: Only Lightly Polluted

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This week Shanghai experienced its most polluted day in about six months.  Fortunately, we have the US Consulate and the Chinese Ministry of Environmental Protection keeping an eye on the smog for us.  The US Consulate’s figures were accompanied by a health warning of “hazardous” (get indoors now; don’t breathe for a few days).  The Chinese State’s assessment was somewhat different, describing it as merely “lightly polluted” (reduce outdoor exercise).  The discrepancy is easily explained away by the local government, accusing the US Consulate of measuring different particles sizes.  Not being an expert here, I much prefer the benign sounding “lightly polluted”.  I’m interpreting it in the same way a packet of crisps could be “lightly salted” – Ok in small doses but too much may cause your lungs too collapse.

A multi-cultural week food wise for me and Bron.  An Indian take-away on Wednesday night with Rachel and Andrea, taking advantage of another essential of life in Shanghai: the home delivery service form Sherpas (£1.50 delivery charge from any restaurant within about 5 miles of where we live.  Any restaurant but usually one selling curry.  And yes I know we should be cooking having brought an Indian shop’s worth of spices with us.)

Back to Sailor’s on Thursday night for fish & chips (counting this as English food) to celebrate JB’s last night in Shanghai (for a whole week).  Sailor’s is on Yongkang Lu, an arty sort of street full of tiny restaurants and bars, loads of Westerners and many disgruntled local residents.  A few complaints (understandable) from those that live above the restaurants saw the arrival of the police shortly after 10pm to usher everyone indoors.

Friday night’s Chinese meal was a buffet-style affair inside another KTV (karaoke) warehouse as Tim took the IS and IT teams out for three hours of singing/wailing.  An elaborate computer system, entirely in Chinese,  allows visitors to select songs from a list and add them to a queue.  Having been a few times, I’ve memorised the right sequence of buttons to take me straight to Radiohead’s “High & Dry” (no Smiths, Cure or Aphex Twin sadly; but they did have a bizarre easy-listening version of Muse’s “Plug in Baby”).  Songs are added to a queue to give everyone a go, but mysteriously my and Tim’s songs kept getting bumped to the top….

Austrian night

Nicole, Jo, Bron and Chong at Austrian night

Bron avoided the ear assault by going out for an Italian instead, so Tim and I joined her later on in Kaiba, a Belgium Beer bar that features a huge selection of beers from around the world (including London Pride).  Ostensibly the launch night (even though we’d been there about a month ago), the police were again in attendance to usher people off the street and back into the bar.

Saturday night was Austrian night, courtesy of Juliane (the only Austrian we know).  The Hyatt hotel on the North Bund apparently has an Austrian chef and manager, so why not… Juliane and Nicole fully dressed in dirndl’s, putting the rest of us to shame.  I’m not sure I’ve experienced Austrian food or drink before, but the plum schnaps, beef stew and apple strudel did the job nicely.  I also don’t know any Austrian songs apparently; even the standing up and sitting down again song got the better of me.

Paradise and Hell Bar

A bar run by a cat.

We ended the night with Juliane and Bruce in the Paradise side of a bar called “Paradise and Hell”.  One side was kind of white, the other a tiny bit red.  Having never been to Paradise before, I now know it features a very comfortable cat that appears to manage bars, overseeing as it did the behaviour of its patrons and the delivery of new beer.

I’m writing this early on Sunday morning; knackered thanks to the workman who rang our doorbell repeatedly at 7.20 this morning.  Wrong house.  Thanks.

Austrian night

(Apologies for dodgy quality): Isaac, me, Bruce, Juliane, Nicole, Jo, Bron and Chong at Austrian night

A big brass instrument

Isaac and Juliane with the Austrian musicians

October 21st: Green Tea with Whisky

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Everything here is hectic; Shanghai never stops.  The old folks arise at sunrise to do their morning Tai Chi before being gradually interrupted by the commuting masses.  Armies of three patrol during the daytime as grandparents take their single grandchild out and about.  Local restaurants fill to bursting point between 12pm and 1pm as the Chinese, in unison, eat lunch, and again between 6pm and 7pm as the commuters stop off enroute home; Western style restaurants fill-up a little later.  Street vendors appear after 10pm to feed the stragglers and restaurant workers, offering miscellaneous veg and meats on-a-stick.  The bars and clubs close their doors in the early hours as the revellers stagger home in a manner completely discordant to the graceful movements of the Tai Chi masters.

To survive in Shanghai is to be swept along as one of its adopted citizens, going with rather than against the flow.  Never quite understanding but fully accommodating this is a place where everyone seems to do everything at exactly the same time.  Chaos, but somehow organised.  The more we flow with it, the less time we have to miss the UK.

Alex's leaving do

The girls out at Alex’s leaving do: (L to R) Haze, Jude, Bron, Alex, Judy, Lilly, Susan, Anny, Yeats, Yolanda and Kiwi

We’ve had week of mixing with locals and expats; KTV (Karaoke) and whisky with green tea (starts off weirdly; gets better over time) with the HR team on Thursday night to say goodbye to Alex as she ends her 6 week trip to Shanghai.  We discovered it’s impossible to duet with JB since what he may lack in tunefulness is fully compensated by volume (and always entertaining).

On Friday night I joined Bron and her marketing colleagues for a sauna.  OK; technically, this was a meal in a Korean barbecue restaurant where you cook your own food.  But the lack of air con and being positioned directly in front of hot charcoals meant a good compromise between sweating the toxins away whilst ingesting others.

Me and Marcel on the boat...

Not quite “King of the World”

On Saturday Bron and I disappeared out on a boat at a yacht club an hour away from Shanghai with several other ex-pats as part of an Internations trip.  Mid-October and still shorts & t-shirt weather; I could do with the weather staying exactly like this (mid twenties) but sadly it won’t last.  A barbecue to follow the boat trip and a little dancing to Shakira (my “dancing” lasted maybe 10 seconds having steadfastly refused until nearly the end of the song).  And the happiest corner shop owner in the world as a coachload of (mainly) foreigners pulls up outside her shop to purchase a few beers for the journey home.

A cracking Sunday roast (our first in Shanghai) today with JB, Elouise, Ryan and Richard and a few games of pool to round off the weekend.

The routine of chaos begins again tomorrow….

September 30th: Mooncakes

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View from the Radisson

24 million people…

Shanghai has a land mass similar to the US state of Delaware but a population size similar to that of Australia (around 24 million).  It’s absolutely no surprise that quiet spots are nigh-on impossible; that attempting to walk becomes an exercise in avoidance and dodging; that national holidays cause a mass migration that any transportation network would struggle to cope with.  The week ahead is China’s mid-Autumn festival (or “Moon Festival”) where the majority of the population has a full-week off work and mooncakes are given as gifts.  Those on holiday relax locally or head out on travels to other parts of China, but most definitely .  The office is going to be strange next week, populated pretty-much by the UK team only.

In the Radisson

John, Steve, Alex, me and Richard revolving in the Radisson

For Sunday lunch, Alex had booked us a table in the Radisson Hotel’s revolving restaurant.  One of the better ways to get a few different views of Shanghai’s various neighbourhoods – and to understand how 24 million people manage to live in one city.  Eating a meal with changing scenery was a new experience for me, but a little disconcerting for a few of us when the restaurant started to revolve back the other way and eventually stopped (a hint, I think, to leave).  A relaxing way to end the short weekend after the working day on Saturday, and Saturday night’s failed attempt to visit a few different places (alas: one new bar then back to Sailor’s for fish & chips).

By normal standards, a fairly uneventful week – but that’s not entirely true.  A very eventful week at work with another trip to the warehouse with Anny central to it.   But then again, this isn’t a work blog…

Cooler temperatures mean we can be out and about exploring again without melting.  Us in shorts and t-shirts; the locals in coats.

 

September 23rd: Free Sausage

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The protest

When is a protest not a protest…

Advice from the British government is to avoid becoming involved with any protests, peaceful or otherwise, when abroad.  So when John and I saw a large group of slowly marching, traditionally dressed people carrying placards on Saturday evening, we were naturally curious.  Tension between China and Japan has been escalating all week*, with Japanese cars being overturned in some cities and Japanese restaurants being attacked.  Many Japanese establishments have temporarily closed, with boarded up windows and Chinese flags prominently displayed.  We suspected the placard holders were part of a Chinese protest, and so decided to follow them (following not constituting involvement).  Peacefully, the group moved through one of Shanghai’s busiest bar areas, attracting more curious followers as they travelled.  Then they stopped in unison, facing…. a night club.

The protest stops

… when it’s a marketing campaign for a nightclub.

A brilliant marketing exercise, and if we’d have looked more closely, we’d have noticed the Chinese writing on the placards was followed by a few words in English: “Club Truelove”.  It worked too – John and I (abandoned for the evening by virtue of a girly night out) thought we’d have a look inside.  Two middle-aged Western blokes amongst a throng of young Chinese with big hair (the boys, not the girls – and I mean BIG hair) was apparently sufficiently incongruous to cause the girl sat next to us to take a couple of photos of us.

The protest stops

Me with the marketing campaign people

So Saturday was a day of playing pool and relaxing whilst the girls were out and about.  And great customer service from the staff at Masse; they were holding an all-you-can-eat barbecue event for the set price of 150RMB (£15).  I only wanted a snack – they give me a free sausage.

Housewarming

Late-night at our house: Bron, Richard, Flo, Nicole, May-Britt, John, Carsten and Alex

On Friday night we held our somewhat delayed housewarming party (5 months late).  A fantastic biryani from Mrs Sims did the job, catering perfectly for a large group of people.  Great to spend some time with a few of our Chinese colleagues too, even if Anny’s daughter (18 months old) was a little freaked-out by so many non-Chinese people.

A day trip to Qingdao on Wednesday to meet a few of our Haier colleagues bought back memories of living in the States.  When the country is so big, the nearest city is a plane journey away.  A meeting takes 7 hour to get to by train or 90 minutes by air.  Sadly, I still hate flying.

* The Japanese government purchased three islands (known as the Diaoyu islands in China) in the East China Sea, with ownership claimed by China.

September 16th: Warehouse Food, From a Field

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Sugarcane

Tasty sugarcane near the warehouse

“Do you know what this plant is?” asks Anny, our local Finance Director.  I didn’t.  Anny speaks to one of the warehouse blokes accompanying us; he disappears and returns with a cleaver.  Plant is chopped.  Plant is stripped with teeth.  Plant is eaten.
I’ve never eaten raw sugar cane before, so didn’t know to expect a large residual amount of plant matter to remain in my mouth despite frantically chewing it for ages.  Eventually Anny tells me you’re not supposed to swallow it.

The sugar cane picking (/slicing?) was in a field at the back of the Argos warehouse, a 90 minute drive from the office.  The field is bordered by a row of old-looking houses, one of which we visited for lunch.  There’s apparently a specific Chinese word for this type of establishment (which I’ve already forgotten) that allows travellers (or warehouse staff) to eat, sleep and play card games/Mahjong but it’s neither a hotel nor a restaurant.   Cooked from scratch by the friendly chef/owner, our food on Friday lunchtime was far tastier than that served in many “proper” restaurants here in Shanghai.  And far cheaper.  I’d go so far as to say “Probably the best food in a field near a warehouse I’ve ever had in my life”.

Friday evening’s promised meal of “street food” was tasty enough, but didn’t quite live up to its billing.  As Haydn observed, the restaurant was on a street, but that’s about it.  I think we’re obviously missing something here, but to order, the customers seemed to have to leave the building, walk down the street a little, point to some food through a window (being barbecued) then go back into the restaurant.  An entertaining evening with Haydn, Bronwen, Alex and a few of the marketing team; we learned several new Chinese swear words that won’t be appearing on the blog anytime soon.

Pedal Power

Pedal Power

Out to a big park on Saturday daytime with Rachel and her friend.  Shanghai has several of these parks tucked away in its nether regions, all offering something slightly different.  This one featured very sinister looking Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse copies, and a pedal powered mini-roller coaster type thing.  I’m told these sorts of rides are available in the UK, but it was new to me.   We also had a ride on the world’s shortest scary roller coaster.  Scary because Chinese roller coasters aimed at kids aren’t sized for Western men (yes, my fault, I know).  The barrier that holds you in holds you in.  Very snugly.  Very, very snugly.
We needed the excitement after zooming around the park’s lake in our turbo-powered speedboat.  Zooming at 7kmph max speed.

All week, barriers, hoardings and mini-grandstands have been appearing on one of the main roads near our house.  All the signage has been in Chinese with no mention of the event in any of the usual ex-pat magazines, other than to say the road was going to be closed on Saturday night.  So, early Saturday evening, I dragged Bronwen, John and Alex down to see what was going on.  The friendly policeman understood my flaky Mandarin question of “What is this festival?” but inevitably the response was a stream of Mandarin I couldn’t understand.  Ever helpful, he phoned a friend, chatted for 5 minutes and then, beaming with pride and in beautifully spoken English, said “It is China festival!”

China Festival

Alex, John and Bron watching the floats go by

So on Saturday night, we saw several floats go by, a few dancers dancing, crowds of people watching and all we really know is that it was a festival in China.

September 11th: Clare Balding

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I don’t believe in fate.  If your life has already been  mapped out, then each decision you think you’re making has already been preordained,  leaving you with absolutely no control over your life.  There is no “decide”, “choose” or “select” (at least not by you).  You’re a character in a computer game with a spotty 14-year old choosing whether you follow the white rabbit or go to work in Shanghai for 3 years.

But then I read the wise words of Clare Balding: “Fate is what happens to you; destiny is what you do with it.”.  Darth would have been proud.

So, Clare, fate deals you the hand?  Destiny is deciding whether or not to play it?

The finality of “destiny” still implies a single course; I don’t have one of those either.  No fate; no destiny.  Just me and Bronwen, floating through China.

Apologies if this philosophical rambling is expected to go anywhere.

Sunday was supposed to be an alcohol-free day.  But if fate led to a mid-afternoon game of pool going on in Masse (1 minute away) and fate introduced a “buy one get one free” deal on the beer,  it was surely my destiny to partake?  And if our meal out on Sunday evening was in a restaurant where the only draught beer on offer was fated to be Guinness, what am I supposed to do?  (And Alfie’s is a strange old restaurant – a bit like finding a kitchen and some leather sofas in the middle of Moss Bros or Suits You.  I’m convinced the suits for sale at the back of the restaurant must by now have acquired the delightful aromas of food and smoke.).

The intent for Monday evening was a few quiet drinks with people from work, but fate offered the opportunity of meeting Rachel, Andrea and Craig too.  So our destiny was to have all 13 of us meet up in an Indian restaurant  on a (usually quiet) Monday night, scaring the staff into insisting we collate our orders into one handy list (“3 chicken tikka massalas, 2 lamb biryanis, etc, etc”) before the bemused waiter could enter the order into Lotus Land’s antiquated computer-based ordering system (think of a 1990’s mobile phone connected to a 1990’s PC).

I think I’ve laboured this for long enough.  Like I said: I don’t believe in fate.

I’m too much of a control freak.

Karma though – that’s another story.