I Got the Hint!

I admit I was dismayed at not enjoying Shanghai more. It might have had something to do with the awkward start I had to this jaunt (please refer to Near Misses entry), or perhaps that destination was really that unpleasant to me, even though seeing my dear ones was wonderful. I figured I was in for a happier time in Hangzhou, a place I had been to a few times before.

Relieved at leaving Shanghai, I anticipated a happy reunion with Gary and a visit with my sweet Vanessa (see Regrets entry). As the train glided along I pondered my next stop after Hangzhou, Shenzhen. I had been there before, too and was returning to visit more friends.

Might it have been because I was traveling to visit, or was traveling in general not a good thing for me to do right then? I don't know. Instead of happy anticipation at long overdue reunions I was gritting my teeth, trying to muster joy. Maybe that should have been a clue.

Exploring new destinations has the appeal that I crave: mysteries needing unlocked. Visiting friends, especially in China has a whole different flavor. When visiting one is compelled to do as your host deems fit: what to eat, where to go, what to do. Here's an example: “What would you like to eat?”, asked at lunch. “I'd love to have Lo Mein (fried noodles with vegetables and meat). “How about we have ____ instead?”  

I guess I'm destined to never eat fried noodles when in company of friends... although Vanessa did permit me  to have fried rice. Gary has quit asking what I'd like to eat, taking it upon himself to order for the both of us. Feeling as I did this trip, I didn't think I could bear anyone else taking custody of me or making decisions on my behalf. I started longing for home as I drifted off...

Now in Hangzhou I sent Gary a message: which bus to take from the train station to his home? Although this was my third visit, Gary always made it a point to pick me up in his car, so I was  helpless in getting around that city. He sent me the bus number, along with a warning that I should take my dinner by myself because he was out of town, due back around 7PM.

I was drained. That is truly the best description of how I felt. I was in no mood for eating or socializing, so I was grateful for the short buffer between leaving Zhanny and welcoming Gary. I sat outside his home for about an hour, my body aching and my mind fuzzy, barely able to keep my eyes open. Shortly after 8PM he texted me that he was still on the road and again instructed me to eat.

I decided on one better: I would find myself a hotel for the night. I simply could not bear the idea of more visiting, even with my dear Gary. Dumbly grateful he was detained, I set off walking on aching legs, my pack feeling like it weighed a ton.

Although the area was populous I could not find a single hotel.  The type of district Gary lives in usually has more than a few business hotels: low priced establishments for short-stay travelers on a budget.  Maybe it was because I was roaming the main avenue? I tried my hand at side roads and was further disappointed.

A young lady handing out flyers (a common advertisement practice here) on a street corner helped me find a hotel. How to explain my gratitude? Thankful as I was for her efforts, I was irritated because she too took custody of me. Not only chattering the whole time we walked but helping me register at the hotel, and then riding the elevator with me and inspecting my room before declaring it fit for me. I could not be churlish, ushering her out even though I was dog tired and  incapable of socializing. I felt ready to scream, pass out, have a fit, explode... Instead I listened as she expounded on the health benefits of yoga, and then did a head stand and demonstrated several poses, after which she encouraged me to stand on my head. I politely demurred, handed her the rose that was on my bed (it was an EXPENSIVE hotel!) and ushered her out.

Alone at last! I  just sat there in my sweat-sodden clothes in the air conditioning my kindly yoga instructor made sure was set properly. I couldn't bear the idea of standing just yet, even under the refreshing shower. Gary's incoming message roused me at 9PM. He was now back in Hangzhou but still had about an hour till he got home. I told him I already had accommodations for the night and urged him to go about his business the next day with no worry about me. We could connect after his work.

I needed the break. I imagined, after a restful night and a day to myself I would again be fit to rejoin society. Apparently that was not satisfactory: Gary started messaging at 8AM, telling me to check out of the hotel and be ready  for him to pick me up. Well, OK: I'll grit my teeth and grin through the day. It is Gary, after all. He will most likely give up his bedroom to accommodate me and do his utmost to take care of me, whether I want it or not. It is not his fault that I am not in the mood to socialize,  and it is only for a couple of days. I had already made up my mind to cut my trip short. I was headed home from Hangzhou.

We spent the day at his office: just where I did not want to be! Seriously? Could he not have seen his way to permit me a quiet afternoon in a coffee shop somewhere? More teeth  gritting, more grinning, more bearing. Tomorrow I will  visit with Vanessa and then mercifully be on my way home. By now my need for solitude occupied my every thought.

The next day, assured I would be well taken care of, Gary left for work. Finally: a moment's peace! Vanessa and I were not due to connect till after 1PM, so I had virtually all morning to gather myself.  I got ready and left the house at 11:30, thinking that would give me plenty of time to breakfast and shop for a small gift for my friend.

As soon as I locked the apartment door to which I had no key I realized I had forgotten  my book. Not good,  but then I'd be occupied from 1PM on, so I could just not read while I eat breakfast.

Shopping and eating done I settled in to wait for Vanessa. Knowing the Chinese value time, I thought my being 30 minutes early would mean I'm  only about 10 minutes early. At 12:50 Vanessa messaged me: “Could we meet later because of the pouring rain?” I was outside and not a drop fell but then, Hangzhou is a big city and quite possibly it was raining where she was.

I shrugged it off, finally taking the hint: this trip is meant to be difficult. On top of everything that had happened so far, I was now stranded outside with nothing to read or do for heavens knows how long and going somewhere on my own was not an option. A few minutes after I started laughing about the irony of it all, rain so heavy I could not see the next building pounded down. Fortunately I had shelter in the arched entryway of Gary's apartment building.  It might have been a long wait because he had dinner plans immediately after work but Vanessa did show up, an hour later. We had a beautiful time.

Things started going right as I soon as I decided to go home: buying my train ticket was a breeze, even though I would have to again wake up insanely early and catch a cab to the station. After the hotel incident I had my doubts that I might find a cab early in the morning but there was a line of them waiting outside the apartment complex. I got to the station with an hour to spare, so I decided on a McDonald's breakfast. Because of the recent food crisis, they were out of everything except for fish and spicy chicken sandwiches. Go figure! I chalked it up to another sign that I should not have undertaken this trip. Soon enough I would be home....

Home! I finally get all those songs and poems that describe the joy of home. Exiting the train station, my heart soared as I boarded the bus. Upon arrival, I didn't leave my house for 2 days. Gave me plenty of time to write.

Thoughts of Shanghai

Before I subject you to my impressions of Shanghai I'd like to take a moment to talk about the food, which has nothing to do with my overall opinion  about the city.

In Shanghai the cuisine tends toward the sweet and mildly piquant - a beguiling combination, as opposed to Wuhan's food which, in my opinion is nearly unpalatable for its overwhelming spiciness. However I did taste some dishes that were overly salty. Shanghai also fuses many culinary cultures into its fare, making it a gastronomical adventure.

Now, on to thoughts about the city itself.

Perhaps I am/was unduly prejudiced against Shanghai because of my bad experiences there (see Stranded in Shanghai entry, posted September 2010). Maybe it just all comes down to my contrariness: what everyone else likes I disdain. Whatever the reason, I do not have warm thoughts about this city.

I see Shanghai as cruel and spiteful. Cruel to display obvious wealth, goods and riches, but those  desirables – rich food, good times, even ordinary entertainment are out of reach to most who live there. She is touted as Asia's 24-hour city and I have no reason to doubt it. However, as most dwellers must rise early to work, what good does 24 hour entertainment do... other than provide jobs for those who work there and activities for those who can afford to spend time and money frolicking late at night?

I guess I just answered my own question.

I'm seeing Shanghai through my friends' eyes. Housing is so expensive they must live 3 or 4 to a room. Not apartment, ROOM. They earn only a pittance: less than 2,000Yuan a month. The type of glitzy pastimes that well-to-doers and tourists can enjoy are out of their reach. While not exactly malcontent, my dear ones are resigned to living outside the circle of excitement. That hurts my heart.  

Most cities I've visited in China have a... flavor, energy, aura... a certain je ne sais quoi that recalls me to places I've been before, and Shanghai is no exception, other than she reminds me of 2 places, and on different continents. The tourist part smacks of Paris while the part where my friends live and work feels and looks like Los Angeles.

“Paris” roads are well paved, sidewalks are evenly cobbled and diligently maintained. Not many hobos in sight and no beggars that I saw. Lush vegetation lines the streets and the buildings are well kept. “Los Angeles” roads are potholed and uneven, as are the sidewalks. Disparate, downtrodden structures edge the streets, as opposed to the shiny, recessed highrises in Paris. L.A. feels more like 'real China' with its hole-in-the-wall shops and eateries, narrow roads and jammed traffic. Apparently, across the river in Glitzville it is more proper to ride scooters. Other than the riverfront boulevard, the roads were  too narrow to accommodate two-way traffic easily. Either that, or those who can afford to live in that area have gone 'retro cool' or 'green', opting to ride scooters to do their part in saving the environment.

Just like Los Angeles, California suffers in ignominy next to its rich neighbor Beverly Hills, and much like those who work the nuts and bolts businesses that keep that city functioning could never afford to shop on Rodeo Drive, so the residents of the part of Shanghai that my friends live in endure, with perhaps one difference: my friends do not seem to long for fortune or the easy life others might have. They are young. They know they have to pay their dues. Being able to put 'Worked in Shanghai' on their resume will no doubt garner them higher pay when they job hunt elsewhere. That, coupled with the job market in smaller cities including Wuhan is what took them to Shanghai to begin with.

All in all: it would not be far from the truth to say that the advertised Shanghai is mostly glam, a shimmer to cover the drab from those who are moneyed and ready to play, and who might be appalled or outright repulsed at how the other 99% live. But then again, plenty of cities all over the world pour money into beautiful areas to entice tourists while discouraging visiting downtrodden areas.

One aspect of my visit that surprised me was mass transit. Zhanny was correct in saying the buses are unreliable, I soon saw. Not only were those conveyances smaller than in other cities, they were older,  raggedy and, for the most part filled to capacity and beyond. I couldn't help but notice the buses circling The Bund (Paris) are new, larger, fueled by clean gas (CNG) and run more often than buses in the L.A. part. 

On the other hand, the subway is a comprehensive system, covering most of the city and ridden by millions every day. For all that, the stations I was in were drab, poorly lit and vaguely menacing. I suppose that is to be expected in a system of underground transportation that has been operational for years but I couldn't help but compare it to Wuhan's system, whose stations and trains are clean, well lit and attractive.           

That is the cruelty part; what about spite?

Money is money: right? Apparently not in Shanghai. Throughout the year I save all my 1Yuan bills for when I travel. My bus pass will not work in other cities but I can always get around because I have a wad of 1Yuan bills to pay transit fares.

When Zhanny and I went to Ikea I was prepared to buy my own subway token. I pulled out a few bills but she pushed my hand away, saying: “I have coins”. What is the difference between a coin and a bill if the value is the same? Shanghai token machines demand either 1Yuan coins or bills no smaller than 5Yuan. Out on my own the next day I got frustrated when I tried to pay my subway fare using the bills I had brought for that purpose.

It goes further. It seems my collection of bills is not welcome anywhere in that tourist mecca. When I attempted to pay my 62Yuan lunch ticket using 3 of those 1s,  they were turned down. I had to offer a larger bill and got several one yuan coins back.

Well, at least I now have subway fare.

Naturally I saw many foreigners, especially on the Bund side of the riverfront. None of them made eye contact or gave any type of acknowledgment that we were sharing the same space. That is not so unusual; many foreigners in China do not wish to ruin their 'Authentic China Experience' by publicly recognizing potential countryfolk. I did find it somewhat disturbing that, in Shanghai especially, travel destination for millions around the world, there seemed to be no solidarity or companionship among seeming peers. The Chinese, as always were very friendly and did not mind trading a word or two.

As I wandered, I wondered: what are all these tourists taking away from here? Good memories? nice pictures? Bragging rights? Are any of these supposedly rich travelers going to “L. A.”? Would they be appalled to know that side of Shanghai? 

    

Other than visiting with my friends I have no reason to go back. I'll take it on the word of others that the night life is fantastic. Even for the purpose of research and accurate reporting I have no urge to plunk down hundreds, or maybe even thousands in pursuit of a good time. For that matter, that is not how I define a good time.

I hope my decidedly negative impressions do not deter you from visiting there, if you so wish. However, if you go there, please don't just be a high roller. Go to the other side of the city. Talk with the people there. See what their life is like. After all: you can spend money anywhere, but will you know what makes Shanghai tick if you don't explore all of it?

Spiteful. Typhoon Matmo had squalled its way through 4 days before my planned visit. Nevertheless, every day I was there it rained, and copiously on Sunday: the one day Zhanny had off from work. On Tuesday, the day of my departure, clear skies and sunshine mocked me as if to say: “Didn't want you to have too good a time. I don't like you and you don't like me, so we'll call it a draw and now that you're going away, I can beam benevolently on those who want to be here.”

Neither Zhanny nor Lucky want to be there. Both told me how much they miss Wuhan and in fact, plan on moving back next year, after Spring Festival (Lunar New Year). I understand their feeling completely: Wuhan has wormed its way into plenty of people's hearts, mine included. I am ready to go home, wait for them and welcome them back with open arms.

I hope that, for their remaining time in the City of Spite it does not rain on them too badly.  

Tourist Shanghai

Bright and early I set out: time to see the sights! Remembering my stamina levels as opposed to my friends', I'm kind of grateful I would be doing this on my own. Besides, as Chinese friends are wont to do, Zhanny would pay for anything I expressed the slightest desire for. Already the hotel was costing that dear girl. I imagined tourist attractions would eat up the rest of her month's pay, not something I want on my conscience.

Zhanny averred that buses in Shanghai are unreliable; far better to take the subway. First challenge: decipher the ticket machine.  Yesterday, she had managed all of the logistics. Today I tried to figure out how much fare to pay. Fees vary by distance and the machine did not indicate how much I should pay to my destination. Five Yuan poorer and 3 minutes later I was rocketing underground, almost all the way across the city. Fortunately I had a seat. It would not have been fun to stand all the way there, an uncomfortable prelude to all the walking I anticipated doing. I still have no idea if I overpaid the subway, but at least I did not have to endure the humiliation of having to visit the teller booth and pay more. Off to The Pearl.

Anyone familiar with the Shanghai skyline has seen The Pearl. It is the spherical structure housing the local television station. It is the pride of Shanghai. In pictures, all lit up, it looks magnificent but up close, in daylight it looks just like any other concrete and glass building. It doesn't even stand that tall. I snapped a picture, standing among all of the other awed tourists. I can now say I have seen the Oriental Pearl.

Taking the spectacular sky bridge, an elevated pedestrian walkway mirroring the Financial District's traffic circle, I spied European architecture in the distance: the Bund! I headed there directly, ignoring the supermalls and swanky restaurants that all the other tourists seemed to flock to.

Soon enough I arrived at the river. On the other side presided all of the buildings that made up the old Downtown Shanghai. I searched for a bridge, or even better: a ferry, but saw no way across. Maybe if I walked a while? The boardwalk was nearly devoid of pedestrians but full of kiosks selling tourist kitsch. One notable vendor displayed Edward Snowden mugs! They were meant to advertise the stand's real business – putting your photo on a coffee mug. I found the Snowden mugs very amusing. As usual when I approach such arrays the clerk popped up and invited me to buy (at outrageous prices) in better–than-passable English. I replied (in Chinese) that those mugs were funny but I was only browsing. Could he please tell me how to get to the other side of the river?

The tunnel: the coolest part of the day, bar none. Not only was the trolley car air conditioned, literally making it the coolest time I enjoyed that day but... how to describe it?

Following my eager salesman's directions I found the mouth of this attraction with only little problem. I was surprised to find it uncrowded: usually anything worth doing/seeing is jam-packed. Seventy Yuan bought me passage to and from the Bund. Not knowing what to expect, I walked the arrow-marked path. Soon a small cab pulled up on the other side from where I stood. As I wondered if I should make my way over there, it advanced a few meters and then, as with a railroad roundhouse, the track  itself pivoted, orienting the car our  way. I got on with a few other eager passengers, who immediately got their cameras ready. Huh? We were underground! What would there be to photograph?

Leave it to the Chinese to go over the top. We didn't just trundle under the river, bobbing around on track irregularities. The whole way, about a 4-minute ride, was a light show depicting various celestial conditions! Belatedly I grabbed  my camera but by then, the entire front of the cabin was full and, unless I wanted to lean on everyone while raising my camera above their heads I would just have to wait till my return trip. I already had my strategy for being the first to board planned out. Grinning big, refreshed from the underwater coolness I emerged back into the implacable heat. 

What first assailed me was the abundance of tourists, about half being foreign. With such a wealth of opportunity, naturally tourist commodities abound. A particularly attractive one was a double-decker sightseeing bus line that guaranteed one could hop on and off as desired. Yes, I do like to walk and I'm quite good at it but: alone and in this suffocating heat, did I really want to walk all over the place?

The price decided me. Why pay 100Yuan to ride a bus I can get off/on at will, that runs every 30 minutes when I can ride city buses for 1Yuan per boarding and get the same deal? Besides, the Bund is not that big, a few blocks at the most. I can easily take it all in and then rest at a waterfront cafe before returning to meet my friends after their work day.

The buildings themselves were outwardly remarkable but the insides were jaw-dropping gorgeous. Most of those edifices are still in use today in the capacity that they were erected for more than 100 years ago. The most stunning was the Customs House. One enters through the original revolving door to behold mosaic tiled floors, frescoed ceilings and mellowly glowing mahogany accents. That office is currently being used as the place to register expats who come to Shanghai to study or work. Sadly, only the lobby and the office dedicated to that function were all we tourists were able to visit.

Same with Shanghai-Pudong Bank building, its lobby soaring up a full 3 stories, the walls adorned with marble and jade accents and lit by recessed skylights. There I was not allowed to prowl the teller area – a guard urged me away, and whipping out my camera seemed a definite no-no. However I am a customer of China Construction Bank and thus had privilege, which I took full advantage of.

It seems brass-accented revolving doors were the norm during the turn of the century building boom in Shanghai. Almost every lobby I ventured into gave access in this manner and my bank was no exception. The difference between my bank and others is that the interior glowed mellow green from muted lighting on pale jade. I've no doubt the jade is real. Inviting seating areas furnished with deep  leather sofas, tellers counters beckoning patrons with regal armchairs... the whole atmosphere spoke of old money and new world prosperity. I'm reassured my money is safe there.

Back outside, the thought recurred: not many tourists were walking, perhaps preferring the bus. Most people I encountered on my marathon ramble through the Bund were Joes and Janes, on their way to work or going to lunch. Sightseers seemed to restrict themselves to the riverfront boardwalk. Having walked to exhaustion I decided to park myself there as well.

And then I decided to park myself somewhere else because it was just too darn hot by the water. Panting my way to the next exit from the elevated walk I couldn't help but notice the monstrous size of the coal bearing barges as well as some of the ships cruising through the river. They made an odd contrast to the financial district's glitzy skyscrapers, proving that Shanghai is first and foremost a port city. 

And so I sat, in a breezy, shady area, reflecting on Shanghai. If you'll give me just a few moments, I will share those thoughts with you. However, I can tell you right now: definitely the best part was the tunnel.      

A String of Near Misses

With my mind properly made up, the house cleaned and the laundry done, I had nothing left to do but wake up at the insanely early hour of 5AM to  be at the train station at 7:30, claim the ticket Sam secured for me online and hie myself off the Shanghai. Didn't quite work that way.

Although I had set my phone's alarm I didn't notice it was set to 'vibrate' and thus did not hear it vibrating until 5:50. I had also neglected to set the time properly, so it was 20 minutes off... not in my favor. The actual time of waking was 6:10. Not good! I had to be out the door by 6:30, and was not completely packed. Also, I had to gather up the trash and take it out, otherwise the ants would have a field day! They threatened already.

I hope I have not given you the impression that my house is full of trash. My trash cans are about the size you'd find in a hotel room. One day's refuse will yield a full can. I have one bin each in my living room, bathroom and kitchen. When I say 'gather up the trash', I mean collecting from those three locations.

After a mad dash around the house and getting dressed/ready to go, I'm only 10 minutes off schedule but make it up easily because the bus pulls up just as I get to the stop. I arrive at the train station about 20 minutes early and take my place in line to claim my ticket. That was good. I didn't have a confirmation number for my online purchase, so the clerk could not retrieve my transaction and print my ticket. That was bad.

It is now 7:40. My train is due out at 8:13. I have no choice but to call Sam at that ungodly hour so he can wrangle with the ticket teller. I left her window at 7:52 only a little bit frustrated. But, I figured I had time to run downstairs and get a 'to go' box of duck for Zhanny because, for some reason I thought my train was supposed to take off at 8:26.

Why that all-important box of blackened duck? Because: the first winter break I was here, Zhanny came back to school with just such a treat for me, saying it was a local specialty. She hung on my lower lip, waiting for my opinion of this... I can't find an adequate word to describe what I thought might just be the most disgusting fare that has passed my lips besides stinky tofu. I remember her kindness in removing that meat I believe a dog would not find fit to eat. I was under the impression she loved blackened duck, a food indigenous to Wuhan, that she might not have eaten since leaving there. Little did I know that, as soon as I got to the train station in Shanghai I would wait for her in front of a Zhou Hei Ya (Zhou's Black Duck) store.

With 50Yuan worth of disgusting duck in my bag I ambled on to the waiting area, only to see that my train was boarding that very minute. I ran through the train station after the mandatory albeit minimal security check, and then down the platform to my assigned car/seat. I made it with 5 minutes to spare.

I sat between a grandmother cradling a 4-month old baby and a sleepy young woman. I hate middle row seats! To make it worse, there were 4 small children and 2 women behind me, and the kids kept kicking my seat. In front of me, due to loud wailing a young mother gave her seat up to her daughter, who then proceeded to play with the seat's 'recline' function, repeatedly jamming the tray into my lap.

Six unrestful hours later I prepared to see my Zhanny again. While standing in front of the duck store, its fragrance wafting unpleasantly I sent her a message: “Where are you?”. She was still on her way to the train station but, if I could make my way to the second level, door 10 she would soon be there to pick me up in the company car.

She meant the second sub-basement parking area. I didn't know that. I went to the second floor, door 10 and waited for her. And waited. And waited.

Several phone calls and a few text messages later, there she was! Running, long hair flying, sassy skirt swishing with each step: My Zhanny! What a doll! What a treasure! We could barely stand to let go of one another. I'll admit I shed a few tears.

And then I nearly shed a few more. The driver had forgotten where he parked the car! We had traipsed back through the train station,  down below the 'arrivals' level to the parking garage, and then we spent about 30 minutes searching. I asked what color the car was: white. So, I cast about for a white car, most likely a sedan. It turned out to be a silver mini van. All's well that ended well and soon we were on our way.

Zhanny had arranged for a nice hotel near where she lives, across town. I admit I was pretty eager to get there! All of this frustration on top of waking up early had done me in, even though I was excited to be there. In spite of the fact that this was my real first look at Shanghai, instead of looking out the window Zhanny and I chatted like magpies. There will always be time to see the city.

Somehow it seems Shanghai and I don't get along. The last time I came through was a disaster and, Zhanny excluded, this time doesn't seem to be much better.

Today was my first full day here. Zhanny and I agreed to meet on the corner, halfway between her dorm and my hotel. I thought we had decided on 8AM so that we could breakfast together before heading out. Apparently the meeting time was an hour later, and Zhanny showed up even later than that. The good news is that she got a lot of sleep. After a breakfast of steamed buns and bean curd we set out.

Zhanny wanted to do what I wanted to do. I suggested that we act according to the weather: if it were to rain as predicted we could go to Ikea. If we weren't bound to get wet, we should visit around outside. She opted for the former, so we set out for that fabled store with her roommate Lindsay in tow. There we would meet Lucky, another former student who also lives in Shanghai.

My plan was simple: make a mad dash through, pick up a nice housewarming gift for Lucky, who had  just moved into a new apartment, and then go enjoy some sights. You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men, right?

I couldn't get the girls out of the store. They loved it! They'd never seen anything like it! They lingered over every display, took pictures of everything and vowed to do their homes à la Ikea when they got married. When they got tired they rested on the comfy chairs. They wanted to eat lunch in the cafeteria. In short, we spent nearly all day at Ikea. I've definitely gotten my fix.  

I have come to realize I have more stamina than my young friends do. I had forgotten that the ideal day out for Chinese is to go somewhere, sit and eat, and then go somewhere else and sit and eat. I had prowled the store twice through while my friends lounged in the furniture area. Nevertheless they looked worn out and their feet were hurting.

I went home with Lucky to see her new apartment while Zhanny and Lindsay shuffled around the shopping area. Realizing that Lucky was dead on her feet I suggested she call it a day: she had moved yesterday, run around all day today and had to work tomorrow. Perhaps she should stay home and rest? My, that child was grateful! She put me in a cab and sent me back to Zhanny.

By this time it had started to rain. Lindsay was not feeling well and Zhanny too had to work tomorrow. We decided to head home and have a quiet evening. Back in our neighborhood, we ate at a local restaurant that Zhanny favors: large bowls of noodles and some dumplings. While we were eating the heavens really opened up. We watched the downpour from inside the restaurant.

I've yet to see anything tourist-y. Tomorrow it is supposed to rain all day, much like it is this evening. And, I'll be on my own, all of my friends having to work. Zhanny and Lindsay made sure to tell me how to get to The Bund and the Orient Pearl, two of Shanghai's famous attractions. Maybe the rain will let up.