Shangaied!

The week end before the last, I made my way to Shanghai, where I'd set foot before only when I got off the plane, to be whisked off immediately to my present location. Feeling like a country bumpkin, I made my way to the city of sin in a train absolutely crammed with people of all ages, eating, drinking and moving around.

The city turned out to be all what I expected--and more. What was striking is how European the city feels. You might think it makes sense, it was more or less created by and for Westerners after all, but the time of the concessions is over and done. So I was expecting a jumble of skyscapers and bright neon lights, à la Tokyo. There is a bit of that, but there is also a lot that feels, well, Mediterranean. Maybe it's because it's a harbour city? It feels like a city by the sea, though *technically* it's not one.

This is part of the "old town." You can imagine there were a lot more of this kind of little streets, before getting torn down. It feels poor, popular but oh-so-charming.

View of the Bund, with the old-style Western architecture.

The French concession-or Shanghai as you imagined it.

Other perks included a yue show, that is, a kind of opera that developed in Shanghai with women-only troupes (shame I had no frickin' clue what was going on), and the Shanghai Museum, or Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about China and Didn't Think You Could Ask.

I am officially in love with Shanghai. It might not be the most pretty-pretty place on earth but it's sophisticated and multilayered and has that big-city feel I miss. I hope the future holds many more escapades there!

More on shopping: the furniture issue

Every little thing can potentially turn into an adventure in China. Actually, cross the "potentially".

As it happens, my parents are coming and, duly expressing filial piety, I set out to look for a sofa-bed. An American friend, who is the resident "fixer", found out about a furniture mall and I set off in her company, since she actually speaks Chinese and knows her way around. So we set off to our destination, somewhere south. We took a taxi and arrived where we were supposed to arrive. It didn't look like a mall at all. There were stores, selling things for the house, but not furniture. Way more basic stuff such as floorings of various types, or toilets.
Then came a stretch of land filled with granite sculptures--Buddahs, bridges, lions, dragons, people playing golf, a winged horse, you name it. No sight of the mall, let alone beds. Finally, a bunch of workmen who seemed to have walked out of a 1950s propaganda who finally directed us to the mall.
There, I looked around and let Sarah bargain in Chinese. Somehow, the information emerged that there was some other place where you could find much cheaper, if lower quality stuff, which suited me just fine for the use I was planning to make of it. Apparently at this point the sellers went on a tirade about how the cheaper stuff was terrible, and it actually gives you cancer, how you're basically going to drop dead just looking at it.

Obviously it didn't work (I'm not even sure they were expecting it to work) and, another taxi ride later, we were at the cheap place, which was basically a great big warehouse full of whatever kind of furniture you can imagine, including ok-looking sofa-beds. I selected one in a pleasing green and brown 1970s design.

Now comes the really fun part. A delivery guy agreed to deliver the sofa-and Sarah and me ipso facto. He cleverly secured the sofa across the tow attached to his electric bike. Then the two of us jumped in and were towed home, probably making the day of everyone who saw us passing by. Finally the delivery guy propped the sofa upside down on his head and carried it five floors.

And now I'm the proud owner of a 1970s-style sofa bed-at a ridiculous price.

Retail therapy, Chinese style

Everyone who knows me  knows I love shopping (I've been accused of being a shopaholic, which is simply not true! I only buy what I need. And I can stop whenever I want). Before arriving in China, I'd been told clothing was cheap, but then China was still a blurry alien planet in my mind which wouldn't house anything as mundane as clothing stores. Someone reassured me that I shouldn't worry "because they have Armani and Prada everywhere in China." Right. Because it's like I can afford that kind of stuff. In China of all places. But we'll get to this.

When I arrived, I was pleased by the presence of H&M and Zara. Globalized retail within reach.
As I began to explore more, I became more aware of real "Made in China" clothing. I mentioned before that Chinese fashion is weird for my taste. Lots of frills, lace, sequins, cutesy designs, shiny bright colours that do the Caucasian complexion no favours. Good luck finding a simple, plain jacket or shirt or, for the matter, a skirt that's at least knee length, never mind longer. That's another thing, tiny mini skirts and hot pants (worn with tights underneath) are all the rage. It seems that the era of the blue and green Mao jackets and matching trousers is gone for good.

Still, perusing markets and malls leads to interesting discoveries and cute items-- at truly ridiculous prizes. We're talking the equivalent of six or seven euros per item. Which leads to the question of brands, and to perspective. Never mind Armani. You know H&M? The place you go to get cheap, if not amazing-quality clothing? Well, it starts feeling like Armani in comparison.

Another thing: the Chinese like to bargain. Hard, apparently. I consider myself a decent, though not exceptional bargainer, I'm from the Mediterranean after all. But I still don't feel up to it here, mainly because of the language barrier. Ok, I can say numbers, but can't pull the I'm-on-a-budget number. So right now, either I consider the price acceptable or I don't and just leave the item where I found it. As usual, we'll see how things progress.