April 11, 2001 (Day 35): Shang Chuan Hotel, Shanghai – 8.30pm
Health: OK. Still tired from the train ride. A lack of coffee today has left me with a bit of a headache.
Morale: Good, I guess.
We acquired a new cabin-mate later last night. She is an Executive Director of a fashion company in Shanghai and has even traveled to Düsseldorf, of all places. She gave us her business card and said we could call her if we needed anything.
My opinion of the China Travel Service is in the decline. We were put on an earlier train to Shanghai and, it would appear, this information was not communicated to the Shanghai office. The end result was that there was no one waiting for us at the station when we arrived. While I was inclined to make our way to the hotel, Anna wisely and correctly suggested that we wait until our other train was due to arrive. Despite being cold and rainy, we had shelter and passed the time chatting with a Belgian couple also waiting for their ride. Just at the moment I had given up hope that our guide would ever appear – the moment I began searching for a taxi in earnest – our guide, Bill, arrived.
Bill is not inspiring a lot of confidence. While his not being at the station when we arrived is probably not his fault, it does not give the best initial impression. In addition to his tardiness, he seems to have misplaced the driver. He led us out of the station and down a few puddle-strewn blocks to the Holiday Inn, where he then disappeared in an attempt to locate the driver. Eventually, the driver appeared, but by then Bill was gone. Applying the first rules from Boy Scouts, we just stayed where we were and eventually everyone found everyone else.
Despite my best efforts to not stare at it, Bill’s most distinctive trait is his bleeding gum, which leaves a red stripe across his incisor.
The hotel is fine and serviceable. Nothing special, but it will serve our needs. It is nestled between shipyards and an upscale walled community down at the end of an ill-lit road half torn up for repairs. This entire area is an island in a sea of development. I would be surprised if this hotel still exists in a few years.
Ten years ago, the hotel and the shipyards were perhaps the only thing on this side of the river apart from the swamps and the odd farm. Now the Pudong New Area, as it is referred, bristles with glass and steel spires, an upscale strip mall, and legions of suits, each 30 seconds late for their next appointment. Along the banks of the Huangpu is the distinctive Oriental Pearl Tower, constructed like some Space Age erector set with pastel-hued connectors. It is the converse to the colonial buildings of the Bund across the river.
We took the time to explore our surroundings. Took lunch at a brewpub situated near the epicenter of the new business area. It has been quite a while since I had good beer. I tried one of their microbrews and it was delicious. The manager gave me another one of their selections on the house. Also quite good. It was very much like a typical US brewpub with warehouse-style high ceiling and wooden floors and the copper brewing equipment prominently displayed. The only major difference was the menu – helpfully printed in English – contained dog and snake dishes. I had the chicken; Anna went vegetarian.
Sated by beer and non-canine cuisine, we crossed the Huangpu River and wandered the Bund, taking in the charm of the older structures and affording a better view of the skyscrapers in Pudong while observing the constant flow of river traffic. The experience was interrupted only by the appearance of a couple aggressive street urchins. This was the first time I have had to physically push them away instead of simply continuing on my way. Begging is one thing, but this was rapidly degenerating towards assault. Fortunately this was an isolated incident.
I have to keep reminding myself that this is China’s most populous city. It is odd because Beijing felt more crowded. The Metro is nice with an airport-like scent of marble and cleanser. Utilitarian and modern, as opposed to the utilitarian and ancient Moscow stations. One thing they could from the Russians would be to run the trains a bit more regularly. The Shanghai concept of queuing was practically German in its execution as the crowds jammed onto the cars without letting any of the passengers depart.
On the platform is a sign with a silhouette of a man leaping in front of an oncoming train with a red line through him, indicating that this is inappropriate behavior. I have to wonder how effective this in preventing this manner of suicide. Are many individuals dissuaded by such a sign?
The big question on my mind is: Is this Communism? The average person on the street displays more brand names than I probably possess. Shanghai seems to be an isolated instance. This degree of wealth was non-existent in the many small cities and towns our trains passed by.
Big day of sight seeing tomorrow. Probably time for me to get some sleep.
Excerpts from Anna’s journal included.
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