Time to Pretend

Now my life is out of the safety of American education system, off the Fudan campus and away from my friends—most of whom have now left to go be back home. Yuri left two Thursdays and now I am alone in a new apartment building. Actually, I’m not alone, I live in a penthouse apartment at the top of an ordinary complex with seven other roommates from various different countries and cultures.
I moved to a new place where I will stay for the next two months as I do an internship downtown at a consulting company named Emerging Asia Group.
The neighborhood that I am living in is a big change from the college atmosphere that I was previously in. Yanchang and Pingxingguang road is a far more useful place, full of life, a step back into the life of traditional Shanghaiese. When I walk the streets to the metro stop, to the watch repairman, to the grocery store I cannot understand a word spoken. Everyone speaks Shanghaiese which sounds like the humming and grinding of a band saw with the cozy complexion of Japanese; a steady humzzzshshsh.
Being one of few foreigners in the neighborhood I get the usual stairs walking down the street. As usual, when I order in a restaurant or get my dry-cleaning done it is expected that I can’t speak Chinese or understand anything. Usually, I can’t understand the Shanghai dialect they speak but when I reply in Mandarine I am received with reactions of excitement and surprise. It turns out that before the communists took over it was more common for people to speak English than Mandarin.
My daily routine starts in the morning after I leave my apartment for the day. I step outside on the city streets and almost immediately I am greeted with the most intense breakfast action one can imagine. Right outside the vegetable market stands selling buns, fried dough, Chinese sandwiches and—what I always order—cracker sandwiches made like a wrapped up egg crape. I wished it smelled like breakfast but instead it’s a combination of slaughtered chickens, liquid garbage and the sweet foreign smell of roasting ducks. I push through the clogged sidewalk traffic of early morning grocery shoppers until I get to the metro line 1, ten minutes outside my apartment. I push bodies to cram on the train and it remains clogged for a few stops until the Shanghai Railway station. Listening to my iPod somehow relieves the personal space problem.
I get off at Huang Pi South Station. When I emerge to the surface I arrive in a different world from the one that I live in. I take a shortcut through a Hong Konger built skyscraper that is always immaculately clean. Street side Starbucks and Coffee Bean compete for their corner posts; there is a Mac store and a Zara. I cross the street kitty-corner in the four way cross walk and head for the Tiffany’s, at the corner of that building is the skyscraper where I shoot up to the seventh floor.
At work I spend my day researching companies that no one has ever heard of, mid-size pharmaceuticals, branches of major conglomerates, HR, financial M&A etc. I search very oblique information and try to understand how these companies could fit into China. Then I write reports about it. At about 12:30pm, the whole office leaves for lunch and we enjoy a one hour break together. The afternoon goes by with more Google searches and corporate research.
At six o’clock I get off work and head downstairs to head home. When Yuri was still here she met me a couple of times at my office and then we headed out for dinner or just an evening walk. It was fun to walk past to Porsche and Cartier shops pretending I had a real job that could afford this stuff. Because my stipend is so modest and my time at my internship is so short, it is like everything is a game of pretend, just to see if I like this lifestyle. All evening long Shanghai unnaturally puts on a light show with its florescent signs and designer neon lights.
When I don’t eat downtown near my office I head up to where my apartment where I can either have a meal for a little over a dollar or I can head to the nearest shopping mall and get a burger or some Japanese food. The neighborhood gets quite once the market closes around 6:30 or 7pm. Heading home, the interestingness of the day is over when I get to the top of my apartment to my cozy little room and the 14th and a half floor.

Day 3

5.1.11
I checked out of my hotel late and went toward the mid-level escalators in Soho. There you can walk up hill through different levels of bars and restaurants. This would have been the place to go to a bar or two. The restaurants were expensive and too classy for my raggedy ass backpacker mentality. I did end up in a Cuban cigar store.
Crossing Soho off my list I then wanted to buy some t-shirts in a shopping district in Kowloon. Coming out of the subway I found thousands of people clogged onto sidewalks in the soggy heat. Not what I was expecting, not what I wanted and on top of that, I was disablingly hungry. I found a back street Yunnan noodle shop that tasted nothing like anything I had ever had in Yunnan and was happy. It took me about 10 minutes of walking amongst the masses of people (the only place I had ever seen so many people in China was at the Expo) to realize that this was not my scene. I was tired and wanted a nap so I headed to Victoria Park to find a park bench or some grassy shade to rest on.
Again, not what I was expecting. This time I found that Victoria Park (it’s like New York’s Central park but a lot smaller) was invaded with South East Asian women. I mean completely taken over! I imagine most of these women are nannies or housekeepers on their day off, they were certainly having the times of their lives. Everywhere I walked I tried not to step on people or the plastic blankets they put on the ground to sit on. The women separated out into groups, probably by language and by religion—some had head scarves, some didn’t. Sometimes I could pick up on a few words of Tagalog—a Spanish crossover—or Indonesian—said to be the simplest language in the world to understand. I finally found a place outside the park in front of the harbor to collect my exhausted thoughts. Then another group of women smoking katarek cigarettes came over and joined me speaking loudly in Indonesian.
I walked around town until I found the impressive Hong Kong convention center and had an ice coffee. I walked around the largest glass window in the world and then set out for the metro. Abruptly my adventures in Hong Kong came to end, hopefully with the epitaph: to be continued.

The plane ride to Shanghai was simple and comfortable. I met some Americans, one guy who was on a holiday with his Shanghaiese fiancée and another pair of young doctors who worked at the clinic I go to. Back in Shanghai things were quiet on the May day holiday and part of me felt like I still wanted to be in Hong Kong, not heading back to my Chinese home.

Day 2

I got a prep call early in the morning before my meeting with Will Hay from mom and dad. From there I headed down town, back to Central Hong Kong. I was able to find the restaurant we were to meet at easily and I got there about ten minutes early. I went into the restroom, where once I was leaving I met Will. Soon we were sitting at the table of a Michelin one star restaurant with a view of the Hong Kong harbor.
Will’s wife joined us and we sat for two hours, at dim sum and talked about everything China. Will and his wife are very knowledgeable in the area, not only because their family has been living in Hong Kong since the mid 90s but also because they both have graduate degrees in Asian studies. After a pretty great brunch, we parted ways and I left walking, to where exactly, I didn’t know.
I headed up the hill following signs to a Catholic cathedral. Instead I wound up finding a botanical garden and zoo carved out of the mountain side. I visited with the various anthropoids and sniffed a few flowers and tried again to find the cathedral. This time I found it. It was lodged in between enormous apartment blocks that obscured it from view. I was more interested in the apartments than the normal looking church. It turns out that most housing complexes in Hong Kong are public projects funded by tariff surpluses.
Walking through some more neighborhoods I realized I was not finding what I really wanted to find: the Peak tram. Somehow I wound up following some signs in the right direction to get to the tram stop. At the tram stop I became nauseous by how many eager tourists were in front of me. I did something radical and for the next hour and a half climbed the 2km straight up. The endless amount of stairs and paved trails made me sweat buckets in the tropical heat but I couldn’t complain, the views got increasingly better. At one point I was about to give up, thinking I was lost beyond recognition and I wanted to turn around, but just at that point I saw this I saw sign pointing me to the top. Bellow the beautiful city was quiet and peaceful next to the steep green cliffs. The peak did have the best view I had come across yet but it was at a steep cost: the place was overrun by tourists. I thought the place lacked too much class so I was soon heading down toward civilization.
Back in the city I tried to find a place where I could soak up some architecture. I found it on a walkway beneath the Bank of China building, Hong Kong’s most recognizable structure. I stood above a busy intersection for about 20 minutes just tacking in the city. After the urban amazement I was considerably worn out and headed back to my room to take rest, stopping along the way for some world famous mango juice.
At night I went on a mission to find some street food. I went close to the hostel, in a mostly residential neighborhood. I finally found a place that had food in front of the woks and grill (most places had menus which I couldn’t read). I stood in front of the women making food waiting for them to listen to my pointing and food charades until a man who was sitting put his hands in the air and said in English “Ok I will help you”. He wrote down a menu card and then invited me to sit with him. It turned out he had recently retired from owning a live fish selling business in Oakland, he was very happy that I was from the Bay Area. He was half drunk and had some sort of neurological issue so he was a bit goofy but a great dinner companion all the same.

Hong Kong I

4.29.2011
In a non-caffeinated stupor my day more or less started when I tried to call my parents at the gate at Pudong international airport. As soon as my call went through a horde of retired Chinese tour-goers invaded my clearly available waiting bench and personal space. Fighting for seats they barked in full volume from across the airport. When it was time to board the plane the aircraft quickly filled to capacity with more extremely loud Chinese tour groups. These are the people that are taking retirement trips provided (presumably) by their former employers. Chinese grandmas and grandpas populate these tour groups, many had never been on a plane before, nonetheless traveled across the border to Hong Kong.
I left the Mandarin China behind me when the Chinese tour groups were grazed in the opposite direction by the florescent flags of their tour guides, the flags that they would live and die by for the next few days. In Hong Kong I was immediately presented with a humid tropical smell mixed up in the ping-pong like syllabic clarity of Cantonese. I knew by the smell and the language that this was a new country all of its own. And also because the first business I saw was a caviar bar serving winded jetsetters.
I stood in the immigration line with a constantly increasing number of foreigners. I was quick to get my carryon and person into Hong Kong as I sprinted through declarations. Upon official entry into the Special Autonomous Region I asked information how to get to my hostel on public transportation and if I had the right SIM card. I soon bought my ticket on the fast train to the city center and was whisked into one of city that I had always dreamed about traveling to.
My analysis of Hong Kong began underground in the metro towards my hostel. I felt I could look at people here because they did not stare at me with infinite curiosity like migrants and common peddlers might in the Shanghai metro. People got on and off the train, mostly Hong Kongers speaking Cantonese, but also Australians, Brits and Americans. Generally speaking young people looked fit and healthy, wearing new designs and classy dress; old folks looked older than in China but with the humble grace of the elderly.
When I finally got to my train station I felt a bit like a paratrooper dropping into the depths of chaos and disorganization; everything was new to me. I focus on finding my hostel and followed some maps and directions, crossed the rooftop walkway that felt a bit like a tree house, climbed to the 12th floor of an immaculate youth center and found my fresh and clean hostel. I checked into my room, the cheapest single in town at a cost of $80USD a night.
Once I got situated in my new room, I stumbled out of the hostel in hypoglycemic delirium. I searched for any restaurant with edible options. The first place I found was packed and the food looked good but the menu was in traditional characters and I didn’t have a clue what was going on. The place next door had a menu with pictures and English, so I got some duck noodles and was happy.
After the quick refresher I headed out to explore the city, after all I hadn’t yet seen terrestrial Hong Kong. I headed for a street walk which the guide book claimed was a taste of the old world. After riding the Island Railway to its end (HK gives its metros names instead of numbers) I emerged into a normal day in Hong Kong. Small streets lined with sidewalks filled with hurried workers and business people lay bellow the towering apartment buildings. The streets reminded me a lot of Chinatown (in Boston or San Francisco) because the shops sold dried meats and fish, along with herbal medicines. I snapped shots of giant shark fins and dried lizards on sticks while shop keepers watched me in amusement. Along the way I also walked around a hospital and saw some double-decker street cars. After a while the newness of everything was warring off and I decided to move onto Central Hong Kong to see some buildings.
This time I got off at the Central Hong Kong stop and headed for the ferry terminal. I walked on one of Hong Kong’s many tree-house like rooftop walkways through the financial institutions and five star hotels bellow. Along the way I saw lots of expats, to my surprise many Americans. Judging by their suits and tastes in eye glasses these Americans had been here since the 80s. The ferry I got on took me across the harbor to Kowloon. It was very foggy and I could not see buildings or the surrounding hilltops very well. All the same I walked on the water front. After a little walk I went to the same place I had lunch and crashed in my hotel room.

Yunnan VIII

3-19
In the morning I knew it was time to get up not when the rooster hollered at 3am but more when the Water buffalos started farting at 6am or so; once the funny looking beasts were awake they start eating and digesting. I was particularly fond of the water buffalos and they were interested in me too. The first one I saw was when we were first entering the village. She came up and greeted us all with big black eyes and loud sniffs.
Before breakfast the group toured a monastery. In the regional sect of Buddhism—which is closer to the Thai sect rather than traditional Chinese Buddhism—it was the beginning of the New Year. Traditionally people head to the monasteries before breakfast and give offerings but either 8am in the morning is not early in the village or people were still doing chores because the place was deserted except for a few orange robed boy monks. The temples shrines and religious statues were small and simple but touching all the same.
Breakfast was simple and soon we slapping on sunscreen in preparation to hit the trails back toward another village with paved roads. The trip started out downhill through hill side tea plantations. The morning air was cool and pleasant and we walked fast. Our tour guides encouraged us that we were going to make our destination in half the time. As we eventually hiked uphill and the South East Asian sun showed its might, the village couldn’t come soon enough. Some pathetic hikers refused to walk anymore forced our super-man tour guide Jimpa to whisk them to our destination on a motorcycle he borrowed from a villager.
After lunch I dug into my seat on the tour bus and rested the three hour trip back to the city. Outside were fruit, sugarcane and rice plantation. I saw the first evidence of mechanized agriculture on the sugar cane fields.
Back in the city we were treated to a five star hotel—I would have been fine with just a place with a shower. At night I walked around with a rowdy group of my friends. We were happy to eat at KFC and drink cold beer in the humid night. Later I walked around a bar district right next to the Mekong River with Annie—a friend from Brooklyn, Alex and Jimpa. Our last night in Yunnan was clear and pleasant; it was night to end a great trip in a city that smelled like flowers.

Yunnan VII

3-18
Felling better I ate a great Western breakfast. Today was the day to leave beautiful Lijian which by 8am was quickly becoming overrun by tourists. We were flying to the south of Yunnan province, to the prefecture of Xishuangbanna. The flight out of town was a simple 20 minutes. It was comfortable because I got my own row on the airplane. It really beat the hell out of taking a 10+ hour bus ride through the mountains.
At the airport it was clear that Xishuangbanna was a completely different place—the northern tip of South East Asia. The climate was once again tropical and the ground flatter. Huddling into a tour bus we headed toward the center of Jinghong to have our lunch and drop off our bags. Also leaving the airport was a tour bus full of women in their colorfully traditional South East Asian dresses.
After leaving the city, which is the first city of the Mekong River, we headed to the hills. It took us three hours to get to a place where the tour bus could no longer move. The bus got stuck in the mud and after Team Gucci hoisted enough logs into the thick brown mess the entire group set out by foot for a village deep in the mountains.
We walked through tea groves for about an hour until we reached the village of Bulang at dusk. The humid air was coming off of the cane houses. There was a pleasant warmth and coziness to the little hamlet. We took pictures of the sunset and the cute babies that were wandering about. The hills five miles in the distance belonged to Burma, not China. We took pictures of that too.
After dinner there was some talk that the villagers wanted to challenge our group to a game of basketball but with nine o clock darkness no one showed up. A group of friends and I decided that we wanted to get to bed so we found our accommodations on the floor of the house of a family from the village. The village was populated with an ethnic flock that had more similarities with Thai people than Han Chinese, known commonly as Dai people. This was mainly because they took most of their religious practices from Theravada Buddhism.
The house that we stayed in reminded me of the cane houses that I routinely visited in the slums of Ecuador. They were simple structures made of bamboo and flattened cane, the roofs were tin, there was an outhouse outside and of course there was no electricity. Before we went to sleep, we drank tea with the house’s matriarch. Our mandarin skills were at about the same level as hers but we communicated enough to learn that she had once been to Beijing but traveled back to her village because it was a much better place by far. Even though we only had the hard wood floor for a bed I was comfortable there and fell asleep soon.

Yunnan VI

3-17
A combination of tired white blood cells and dogy food meant I had to take the day off. The group was planning on taking a bike ride out to see a performance by Zhang Yi Mo (the guy who designed the opening ceremony for the Olympics). One guy from Team Gucci asked me “what you can’t do the bike ride?!” My only response was:“Are you joking me?!”
I spent the day sleeping reading. In the mid afternoon and the evening I took light walks through the alleys and along the canals of Lijiang. The old city is stunningly beautiful, kept the way it must have been hundreds of years ago. It is very easy to get lost anywhere but luckily there are maps on almost every corner, the only problem is that they are written in Chinese.
The shops mostly sell modern things like sushi and souvenirs. The city caters to armies of urban Chinese and a few foreign tourists. Regardless of tackiness, the old architecture remains and there are a few ancient walking humanoids that look like they have been living in the old city since the beginning of time. In the evening some friends of mine dragged me out for a night walk to do some shopping. I wasn’t quite feeling up to it, but I tagged along for a couple of blocks.