SH-2.1: The First 12 of 24 Hours in Shanghai

February 17, 2008.  Shanghai, China.

Baggage Claim: Defense Mode

Picking up my bags was easy.  Figuring out how to carry them through the terminal to the Maglev Station was another thing.  I had an enormous duffel on wheels, a smaller, Christmas tree green business traveler's suitcase (also on wheels), my big Adidas duffel bag (no wheels, no shoulder padding), my backpack, and of course... the huge peacoat/parka that my aunt insisted that I bring.

Some quick thinking.  Peacoat? Zipped up.  Backpack? Strapped on.  Adidas duffel bag balanced on top of enormous duffel bag with wheels.  Okay.  Now... push smaller (super tacky green) suitcase with left hand while pulling huge duffel bag load with right hand.  We're rolling! Perfect.

Or so I thought.  Shortly after embarking on a rigid defensive walk through Terminal 1 of Shanghai's Pudong International Airport, I remembered that I had written down Kenny's information and instructions on a sheet of paper in my pocket.  After struggling to create a perfect push-pull strategy for my luggage, I was adamant about not stopping to pull out that piece of notepad paper... but what if I get lost? I could not grasp Traditional Chinese characters let alone Simplified Chinese characters.  So I whipped it out.  "Maglev.  Escalator.  Upstairs." 

How convenient.  I looked to my left, and there was an escalator.  I looked up at the signage, and it read, "Maglev Entrance," with an arrow pointing in the direction of the escalator.  Awesome.  So up to the second floor I went, navigating around oddly placed poles, down a long, echoing corridor, and into an strangely spacious, brightly lit, open atrium where the Maglev box office stood.

I pulled my bags with me into the line.  I first thought about the warning from others that Chinese people cut in lines.  I inched just a little closer to the traveler in front of me.  My next thought was that Kenny said the Maglev ticket would be 20% off if I presented my boarding pass.  Scrambling to fish my passport out of my pocket, I pulled out my HKG-PVG boarding pass to present at the counter.  I also pulled out an RMB note that I had exchanged at Hong Kong Airport earlier.  Attempting to read the off-translated English was almost the same as reading the Simplified Chinese characters, so I just said "one" to the person at the ticket window.  

Why my words came out in Chinese, I'm not quite sure... perhaps I wanted to blend in as a local to prevent from being cheated or tricked.  (I was in rigid defense mode, mind you.)  But since the first words I spoke in China was Mandarin Chinese, I stuck with Chinese for the duration of my stay in China.

The Maglev: Riding into Shanghai

While on the Maglev, I had three observations:

(1) Wow, it's clean.

(2) Looking outside the window, there are those blue roofs again! Almost everyone in Pudong District had a blue roof on their house.  Was it some kind of solar panel or something mandated by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)?

(3) Whoa, we really are traveling 430 km an hour... and at one point we were traveling 431 kph.

Longyang Station (龙阳站)

Longyang Station is where I was supposed to meet Kenny, a good friend from high school who graciously agreed to show me around Shanghai before I had to arrive campus on Monday.  I unfolded my wrinkled notepad paper.  Exit 3.  Okay.  So I rolled my luggage over to Exit 3 of Longyang Station.  First thought: no Kenny.  Second thought: Damn.  There are a lot of Chinese people.  The station was packed with people... and they were all rushing in every which direction.  I had not yet visited New York at this time, but that's what I imagined New York to be like.  A mass of rushing people.

To avoid collision with any locals, I stepped into a corner to wait for Kenny.  But really, there were people coming at me in every direction.  I honestly felt really uncomfortable... and a bit vulnerable.  I kept checking my pocket to make sure my wallet and passport where still there.  And each time I looked at my watch to check the time, I had a one of those good thing/bad thing thoughts, "15 minutes has passed.  Where is Kenny?! Thank God my watch is still on my wrist..."

Time elapsed: 30 minutes.  During these last fifteen minutes, I had paced from Exit 3 to Exit 4, entered and exited the station, walked into and out of the Maglev Station, and had even walked half a loop around the station.  My face was calm, expressionless, but my thoughts raced at 100 miles a minute.  I thought about calling Kenny's cell phone number.  But... how the hell do I dial phone numbers in China? Is it any different from America or Taiwan? Does my cell phone even work right now? I powered my Samsung on.  Blank.  No T-Mobile connectivity symbol.  Next question... how do I use a pay phone in China? Wait... how do I pay?

Kenny finally arrived.  I literally wiped the sweat from my forehead.  Although it was near 0 degrees Celsius, pacing back and forth in a wool coat with 3 duffel bags and a backpack simulated the temperature inside a sauna.  Had I not been wearing a black coat, I'm sure anyone around would have seen my pit stains.  But then again I would have blended in with the crowd.

Kenny got me a Shanghai Metro card.  We took the escalator downstairs to the platform and waited for the metro to take us to Changning District (长宁区) where Kenny lived and worked.

Buying a Phone Number

When we got off the metro, I asked Kenny to help me buy a phone number so that I could call my parents in America and my aunt in Taiwan to let them know that I had arrived safely.  We walked down the street to a phone shop.  I was surprised to see bicyclists and motorists 'sharing' the dusty road.  I was more surprised to see all the numbers hand-written on sheets of paper, taped to the walls of the shop.  I asked, "What are those numbers for?" What a silly question.  Kenny explained those were phone numbers.  I had to choose one, pay for it, and they would activate the number for me.  Still confused, I just followed Kenny's instructions.

I chose a number: (159) 2179-9588.  It was apparently a very expensive number because the last 4-5 digits had an auspicious meaning behind it.  I had secretly hoped that this would help me transition into life in Shanghai with smooth sailing.  Be careful what you wish for.

"Now you need minutes," Kenny advised.  So I bought minutes.  I seriously was so confused as to how everything worked in China.  It really was a different country... complete with its own customs and habits.  I don't remember trying to bargain or not or even if I had asked Kenny to haggle a bit for me.  But the price was the price.  Attempt or no attempt, paying the asking price (I later learned) is a completely and utter failure in China.

And then I bought an international phone card.  Geez, it was like grocery shopping.  You think you go in for just one or two things, but along the way to check-out... you need this, you need that... how money flows like water, eh? In the end I paid for a phone number, minutes to use the phone, and an international phone card... for about 200 RMB or about 25 USD.  (That's actually a complete rip-off, but I'll discuss that later.)

After finally arriving at Kenny's apartment, I took the best nap ever.  It was one of those naps that you don't have to adjust your position or even stare at the ceiling for a while... as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a dead man.  And when I had awakened, it felt like morning.  One of those naps.

Dinner: My First Meal in Shanghai

We hopped back onto the metro to head out for my first meal in Shanghai.  I was excited.  I felt so clueless as to where I was, but I was glad that I had a familiar face to help lead the way.  A quick few stops and we got off.  Walking through the city I was so mesmerized by everything that was around me.  I tried to read the Chinese characters.  I tried to observe my surroundings in case of emergency, kidnapping, or organ stealing.  I took in all the sights and sounds for what they were worth.

I saw a T.G.I. Friday's.  I laughed when I read the Chinese name: 星期五餐厅 (xin qi wu can ting).  It literally meant Friday Restaurant.  Hahaha.  It was those kinds of idiosyncratic first sights that truly made me feel like I was in China.  It was the first time I felt a sense of appreciation for the off-translations.  If I had been in America I would have simply thought, "God, how fobby..."

For my first meal in Shanghai, Kenny took me to an all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink Japanese teppanyaki restaurant, and it was complete with a Benihana-style chef who conversed with the guests, catered to the food requests, and put on a bit of a show.  The price per person was 180 RMB, which is just slightly over 20 USD.  Good deal!
 

We sat at a crescent-shaped teppan grill with a large family of Westerners.  It seemed like they had already been at dinner for a while because the dad was quite red from the sake and beer, and it seemed like the whole family was extra loud not because they were Westerners but because they were druuuunnnk.  Hahaha... it was nice to hear some English around me.

The chef grilled whatever we ordered from the menu: steaks, ribs, pork and lamp chops, shrimp, scallops, asparagus wrapped in bacon, mushroom caps, you name it.  And we drank like we were fish.  Sake and beer.  All-you-can-drink.  We took advantage of that whole-heartily.  Cheers to this, and cheers to that.  What an awesome night.  

Sometimes the food came so fast there was barely any place left to put it.  And sometimes I cleared the plate so fast that there were only bones and shells remaining.  Tough work! But whenever I looked over at Kenny, he was consistently demolishing something... and preparing to order more from the menu.  I think this is when I first realized that Kenny was a mad beast.  I was full to the brim and inebriated to oblivion, but Kenny could still take more.  That man is nuts! I bow down.

After dinner (Thanks Kenny for getting dinner) I needed a bit of digestion and a bit of soberation (new word... thank the numerous sake bombs we had), so we walked down the street to check out some DVDs.  Another realization that I was in China: a DVD store with only high-quality pirated DVDs.  Browsing through non-alphabetical American DVDs while I could barely stand up was not a good time.  I don't remember it, but I can imagine myself saying, "I'm game overrrr man.  Let's go hooome."

I only remember two finals things from the night.  Neither of the two things was how we got back to Kenny's place in Changning District.   

(1) Walking out of the DVD store with a copy of Juno and The Simpsons Movie for 15 RMB (2 USD) total; and

(2) Stumbling into the apartment and falling face-down flat onto the bed.  Good night.  

To be continued...

SH-1: Landing in Shanghai

February 17, 2008.  Taipei, Taiwan. 

I was packing... well, stuffing is perhaps the better word. I was stuffing my luggage in preparation for my semester of studying abroad in China. It was 4:00 in the morning, and I hadn't slept the whole night. I had been packing, er... stuffing my luggage since dinner. Since it was 32° Fahrenheit in Shanghai, my aunt insisted (last-minute) that I bring an extra parka and long underwear. Little did we realize that by the end of my spring semester in Shanghai, it would be 32° Celsius. The parka got stuffed in, and a pair of Adidas got tossed out.

Each time an item was put in and another item was tossed out, I would zip the suitcase up and weigh it by carrying it on a bathroom scale. My aunt insisted on this practice so that I wouldn't have to frantically sort through my clothes at the airport (since I've been guilty of it so many times). And because carrying the suitcase hindered my view of the scale's reading, my aunt would shout from somewhere near my toes, "23 kg! Just 3 more kilos away! 好, 好... 快了! Good, good... almost!" Unzip. Open. What do I take out now...?

5:30 a.m. "Time to go!" I was too delirious from sleep deprivation to acknowledge what my uncle had said. Before I knew it I was standing in front of security checkpoint. With a final hug for my aunt and, "I'll call as soon as I get a cell phone," I walked through the security gates. Five seconds later I realized how strange that statement was... "I'll call as soon as I get a cell phone..." Holy shit. No cell phone. I felt so... naked.

Pound.
The stamp from R.O.C. Immigration literally marked the beginning of my journey.

The thought of going to China all by myself really scared me. Even though I was excited to meet everyone on the program... landing to a new place without a companion is a bit unnerving. Still suffering from sleep deprivation, my thoughts became mere images, lost in a sea of mental hyperventilation. Let's call it hyper-mentilation...

Preparing for departure.
At Taiwan Taoyuan Airport waiting to board the first segment (TPE-HKG) to Shanghai.

8:00 a.m. BR 851 pulled back from the gate.

I usually take pictures of the in-flight meals, but I must have knocked out. I remember having major difficulties pulling the tray table out. "Here," the kind businessman next to me said. He unlatched the table and unfolded it in one swift motion. (I swear I've been on planes before.)

10:00 a.m. The jolt from the wheels hitting the runway woke me. I fell back asleep while the Boeing 747 taxied to the gate. The next thing I remember was slipping in and out of consciousness at the airport in Hong Kong.

Alone.
Waiting for the connecting flight (HKG-PVG) at Hong Kong International.

11:30 a.m. Blink. Final boarding. Sweat of panic dripped down my face. Where were my bags?! I jumped up... and nearly fell over. I had nudged my carry-on between my feet as a precautionary measure. Against what... I'm not quite sure (two years later). People probably thought I was crazy. "Paranoid Taiwanese..."

Hazy.
One word described both the weather and my state of consciousness.

Noon. Struggling to stay awake, I rest my head against the curvature of the plane. KA 892 was on its way to Shanghai. I missed another opportunity to snap a shot of Dragon Air's lunch of grilled beef with strawberry glaze over rice. (Is this Chinese food?)

Just after 2:00 p.m. The first thought as I peered out the window for my first glimpse of Shanghai was... why are all the roofs bright blue? Seriously, has anyone else noticed all the bright blue rooftops on approach to Shanghai? Please leave me a comment and tell me why all the roofs in Pudong are bright blue.

Two thoughts popped into my head after landing...

1. The marshaller is wearing a navy blue, body-length, wool coat with a gold Communist star. Shit. I'm in China.

2. The marshaller is wearing a navy blue, body-length, wool coat with earmuffs and a cap. Shit. It must be cold outside.

The cabin door opened, and I immediately felt the bite of the cold winter air. I anticipated the worst while walking through Pudong International Airport. Filing out of the jetway, I noticed more officials wearing navy blue, body-length, wool coats... and stone-cold faces. Shit. I was in China.

The immigration officer flipped to my visa. "You're here to study?" I nodded my head. He smiled. Pound. A bright red oval now adorned page 13 of my passport. His smile calmed the butterflies in my stomach... but then I peered down the escalator at Baggage Claim at Pudong Airport. Pure chaos.

Pound.
Shit. I was in China.

It was like looking at Murphy's Law... live. Bags flew onto carousels the same way dust flies out of a vacuum cleaner in reverse mode. Wives yelled at their husbands to grab luggage carts. I was shoved by some who were charging for their bags. I nudged back and then inched as close to the carousel's edge as I could. "Like Spanish bulls..." I thought. LAX is crazy, but this was a whole other ballgame. I buttoned up my coat and crossed my arms over my chest. Defense.  Although I put no thought into it at the time, this simple defensive action of crossing my arms across my chest was a blatant foreshadowing of the next half a year in China.
3:00 p.m. It had taken me almost a whole day to get from Taipei to Shanghai. I was completely drained, but... shit. I made it. I was in China.

To be continued...

Prologue: Starting S.O.F.A.T. in Shanghai

I began writing the S.O.F.A.T. blog as a way to share my stories of food and travel.  But I had posted a few stories from Shanghai 2008 mixed in with adventures from 2010.  A bit non-sequitor... if not confusing for the readers then for myself.  As a result I thought that it would be a great idea to start a S.O.F.A.T. blog just for the time I was studying abroad in Shanghai.  So here it is! 

S.O.F.A.T. in Shanghai serves to document, detail, and deliver the tall tales of all my food and travel adventures for the six months (Feb-July 2008) that I was living and studying in China.  This will be posted retrospectively, of course, and chances are that there will be some details missing from the stories.  However, the stories from China that have not been forgotten must have been the most memorable, and those are the stories that are worth sharing.

So here we go! It all starts with a flight from Taipei...