Shanghai Nights (and Days)

Shanghai Baby! The Pearl of the Orient. The Whore of the East. New New York. That place beside the sea. The most populous city in the most populous country, Shanghai is a place of many names and many ideas and stories both good and bad. Most of the hostel westerners in Nanjing hightailed it to Shanghai for Chinese New Year’s and I hooked with some of them on the last night of it, which happened to be my first night in Shanghai.

My arrival was heralded with fireworks igniting all around me, just like in Nanjing, although with a more impressive skyline. Cruising through the city, you could see the chrysanthemum bursts down any block you looked, and loud bangs and flashes of light were never far. Like Nanjing the degree of explosions was so high that the city became filled with a thick smog, even more than usual (Actually, during Chinese New Year’s, was the only time I noticed smog). Unlike Nanjing though, the place I was staying was in an alley full of 1930s esque Western architecture, so with all the gunpowder noises and flashes coming from the alley, you could have believed that a Chinese triad gang war was taking place. Of course, though by now, after 4 days of non-stop fireworks day and night, we had grown accustomed to it, and were as nonchalant as the old smokers in Nanjing. Besides, you go to Hong Kong to see triad gang wars.

Like I said, Shanghai has a lot of 1930s Western Architecture, owing to the fact that the city had its boom period (or at least its first one) as a Western-Chinese-Japanese trading post during the early 20th century (this was all cut abruptly short by the Second World War). A lot of folk have romanticized Shanghai’s seedy but romantic past, also famous for the usual racial prejudice and mistreatment associated with colonialism (the park sign that says “Chinese and Dogs Not Allowed” is infamous). The region I was staying, the 1930s downtown core known as The Bund, is filled with tourists who come to seek its exotic (to them at least) architecture. Well I did like the architecture, especially one skyscraper that looked like a giant flower pot from the Roaring 20s, a lot of it was all too familiar for me, as my home province also experienced its boom in the early 20th century, before heading into decline in the latter, and thus has much of the style of architecture at a nice or even nicer level. Still though, it was a nice neighbourhood to be in, and especially to get the sense of Shanghai’s past.

Perhaps one of the most surreal experiences, conciding with Shanghai’s past or at least popular culture’s image of it, happened when one of the westerners at the hostel popped in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (no doubt a pirated copy or factory reject picked up from one of the dirt cheap vendors) where Indy starts his adventure in the far off and exotic city of—you guessed it—Shanghai! It’s the first time I’ve seen an Indiana Jones film and while actually being in the same place where Indy is having his adventure. Cool!

Not that I spent my whole time in Shanghai watching Indiana Jones movies, because that—my friends—would just be silly. No, I got out there and saw the city, that I did! The first place I went, because I was in it, was The Bund which is great for walking around, especially waterfront (if you don’t mind the torrent of hawkers you encounter throughout China). Across the harbour from The Bund is Pudong, Shanghai’s “District of Tomorrow” the current and emerging heart of the city with all the newest skyscrapers and the ever popular Oriental Pearl Tower which is supposed to be used for TV signals (and tourism of course! I’m using a lot of exclamation marks today) which looks like something out of a Jetson’s cartoon. Thinking I wanted to explore this distict in person, I looked around for away to cross the harbour, and the only thing forthcoming, as their were no bridges close and I still didn’t know anything about the subway, was something called The Bund Sight-seeing Tunnel. While it seemed a little over-priced (for Chinese standards), I figured it’d be worth it just to get to the other side. I didn’t expect much from the tunnel itself, as it went under was surely one of the dirtiest, if not the dirtiest, harbours in the world. I figured it be a concrete passage, perhaps with an advertisement or two. I definitely did not expect China’s most psychedelic adventure yet!

While I’m pretty sure I didn’t ingest any LSD before entering the tunnel, perhaps there was something in that Bubble Tea as I found myself in an egg-shaped capsule flying through spiraling lights and neon wavelengths why surreal music echoed in my ears and announcers in English and Chinese saying things like “Meteor Showers” and “Otherwordly Peace.” At one point, I found myself surrounded by fire and brimstone, while the announcer said “Welcome to Hell.” How’d I end up in Hell? I was just trying to cross a river, I thought it was the Yangtze not the Styx! But before I could beg God’s forgiveness, we had passed out of Hell and into a chamber of purgatory where ghostly clowns and children made out of kites, danced and waved in the wind while batting at the glass of my protective capsule. Then flashes of lightning, something like a discotheque, and the capsule came to a stop. I had reached the Pudong district. I swiped my card through the turn stile, heard the checker click as I walked through, and went on my way, trying vainly to make sense of the trippy madness I had just witnessed.

As for Pudong, it was effectively the same skyscrapers I had seen from across the harbour only bigger. It was too foggy to really bother going up the Oriental Tower, so instead walked along the streets looking for a restaurant which was surprising hard to find. Pudong might be the heart of Shanghai at its most cutting edge, but there’s precious little in the way of restaurants and services on the street level. I wandered for an hour or two, admiring the futuristic skyscrapers disappearing into the clouds, before I could work up the nerve to venture back through the trippy tunnel to The Bund.

Back at the Hostel, I met a girl from Suzhou named Phoenix, studying for an exam in English in Shanghai, who took me out shopping Nanjing Lu, a popular shopping street near the hostel. While my attempts to find a pair of shoes my size in China continued to be thwarted, Phoenix managed to find some clothes and we managed to eat some hot pot.

Later that night, I headed on my own to the French Connection, sorry Concession, but as far as I could tell the only thing French about it was the prices. The ice cream and coffee was all American, such as Haagen Daaz (which sounds Scandinavian, but was called so purposely by its American founder in the nineteenth century to give it an exotic appeal). Any rate, Haagen Daaz is definitely not French, although I managed to pick up a pile of DVDs for the equivalent of a buck a piece Canadian.

The next day I headed to the Shanghai Museum in People’s Park. What better way, I thought, to get a feel for the city than to go the city’s namesake museum? People’s Park, which ironically is mostly closed off to the public, is the supposed center of Shanghai and its surrounded by futuristic office facades that make you feel like your living in 21st century of science fiction novels rather than the one you are currently living in. The museum itself looked like it could transform, any moment, into a giant robot and go off to destroy Japan—which would have suited the Chinese just fine. You see a lot of this kinda stuff around Shanghai, especially around People’s Park and in Pudong, including a MagLev train I took to the airport, which although supposedly slower than the shinkansen I rode in Japan, did not give you that impression, especially as it raced through turns at a 45 degree angle at 400+ km/hr.

Inside the museum was a collection of photographs and virtual reality displays about Shanghai’s growth as a city and its “sure-to-be-awesome future.” To be frank, a lot of the stuff there kinda felt like an over-budget municipal promotion, but virtual reality room was nice. They also demonstrated the Chinese unhealthy obsession with numbers as they broke down each of Shanghai’s neighbourhoods one by one, listing the stats in terms of housing, commercial districts, and countless other areas of which I had no interest, but nothing in terms of neighbourhood “character.”

Nearby the Shanghai museum, in the old Depression-era racing track, was the Shanghai Museum of Art, which thanks to a lack of proper signage, I walked through and past about four times before I realized what it was. Thus I reached the museum just as it was closing, but luckily I was able to convince them to let me have a sneak peak, albeit a rushed one. The art there was impressive, especially the ceramic stuff which was done so well it could have been a photograph (perhaps these folks should consider going to work for the Chairman Mao Mausoleum in Beijing where they are always in dire need of realistic artwork), and the lady on staff that let me in was nice enough to guide me, although I could tell when I had overstayed my welcome as they shut the lights off.

After the Art Museum, I decided to go for supper, and being sick of Chinese food, decided to go for some Western staples. I saw a Pizza Hut, but since it had a half an hour wait to get inside, I decided to opt for the neighbouring Taco Bell instead. Taco Bells in China, however, are nothing like they are in Canada. Expecting to find a counter and Mexican-inspired menu board, I instead encountered a “Please Wait To Be Seated” notice and a doorman inquiring if I had a reservation. When I replied, that indeed I did not have a reservation for Taco Bell, he told me not to worry as there were still some tables available. I was lead to a candle-lit table, asked if I would like to see the wine list, gave me a free plate of nachos as an appetizer. The whole place reminded me of a McDonald’s I’d heard of in New York where they’d have a pianist seranating you on a grand piano while you chowed down on a Big Mac. This place wasn’t THAT class though, as the waiters and waitresses, who where all Chinese people by the way, wore flamboyant rainbow sombreros, which I must admit still looks strange even after that tunnel to Pudong.

The next day Phoenix and I went to a place called Yuyuan Gardens and Bazaar. The bazaar was as bizarre as any in China, and I still had problems bargaining successful for fake merchandise so I didn’t really buy anything, but the old mansion gardens we strolled through were quite pleasant except for the one section they had filled with tacky cartoon characters including a pirated, and poorly drawn, version of Mickey Mouse. The rest of it, with its feng shui waterfalls, zig-zaging bridges, and harmonious hallways, was very beautiful and soothing, and would be a great environment setting for a game of Counter Strike if they ever did a world tour version of the game.

That night, Phoenix, myself, and some of the Westerners, went out to a popular night club called Windows filled with Jamaican inspired imagery. Shanghai is known as a party city, even in Indiana Jones movies, but for the most part it just seemed like any other club I’d seen in Asia or North America. I had tried to go out the first night I was there, but unfortunately the two Western couples (one of which wasn’t a couple, but acted like one) I was with, started bickering after one drink and everyone went home in a huff. They were gone by this time, though, so it was more enjoyable, and had the added intrigue of being Phoenix’s first time in a night club and so I got the joy of watching the poor sheltered Chinese girl’s jaw drop in amazement of what actually goes on in such places. Ah, the mask of innocence eh?