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.

Horse, horse, tiger, tiger

...Which is pronounced mama huhu, and actually means "so-so."

Don't ask.

I've been meaning to do a post on learning Chinese for a while. We get free evening classes, which is generous and cool. How useful they are is an object of debate. There seem to be many problems associated with studying Chinese: the pinyn, which means getting used to sounds not corresponding to letters, and some sounds being almost unpronounceable anyway. As in zh and c being pronounced respectively zd (sort of) and ts. But don't quote me on this. Then there are the tones. Why a language thought it made sense to evolve with tones is beyond me. It looks like some divine curse. But they're there, and need to be practiced and learned, at least a bit. Then there's the writing, obviously, without even the comfort of Japanese kana (incidentally, when I studied Hebrew, and proferred the sentence "if I ever take another language, it will have the Roman alphabet",  if there is a God or some other superior entity he must have laughed very loudly).

However, the classes supply some basis, even if it's not ideal, especially as I've never been a champion of self-discipline and pure self-study doesn't work for me. I've also discovered a neat trick. The laoshe (teacher) you have a total of three hours a week is not the only laoshe you have. There are scores of them. Cleaning ladies and repairmen talk to me, I repeat stuff like a kid, sometimes guess and infer meanings. I point at fruit and vegetables at the market and the sellers say the names (except one lady who wants to practice her English--that's unfair!). People talk to each other, say hello, good bye, how are you with perfect tones, obviously. Anyone can be your teacher (for  little orfree, or sometimes providing additional services) and the world your language classroom.

Go tell it on the (pointy) mountain

The view from the point of the Pointy Mountain

The landmark of my present place of residence is a pointy mountain. It was shrouded in mist and rain for most of my first month here, but now that it's sunny it's very visible in all its pointy, greenery-covered glory. The Pointy Mountain has convenient steps (two hundred of them, I believe, going up it felt more like two thousand), which make it uninteresting to some people, for some reason. Ok, it's not something to endeavour if you have knee issues, but otherwise? I'd say it was worth it.

Yesterday I made my  ascent of the Pointy Mountain, along with about one million Chinese people. The weather was great and it definitely felt like exercise. To get to the foot of the mountain you need to take walk in the Chinese countryside. As in, really countryside. Think goat herds and chickens wondering about, and people washing clothes and vegetables in ponds. Villages that feel like they're cut away from the world.

I remember reading a sentence about Mt. Fuji, that a wise man climbs it once, a fool twice. I have the impression the same applies to the Pointy Mountain, for those who land in this particular neck of the wood. It feels like I've ticked a case. I'm a wise woman now, and I'll try to keep it that way.

Spring is in the air

Spring in the 'hood

When I arrived on Valentine's day, it felt like bleak midwinter. There were occasional sunny spells, but otherwise, it got dark early and it was gloomy and rainy most of the time. Things have changed dramatically and abruptly in slightly more than a month. Temperatures soared to the mid 20s C (which feels a bit weird for the middle of March), trees are blossoming, days are stretching. You can actually see the pretty mountains that encircle the city on a regular basis. Ok, the weather is still kind of crazy, with equally abrupt changes for the worse, like yesterday, which felt like winter all over again. More importantly, at times it's still chilly inside (I know I'm sounding like a broken record, but this has got to be the single most traumatic instance of culture shock I experienced). But things are starting to look prettier, and you can truly appreciate the efforts Ginsengians are making with greenery.
Spring also brings its usual side effect, i.e. spring fatigue (doubled with cultural shock fatigue, which even according to the internet is A Thing). It also brings that non-descript feeling of wanting to romp outside, or sit under a tree with a book when you should be working

The Expat's Chinese cookbook

Food is going to be a recurring theme here. After all, I like reading about it, cooking it, and of course eating it. It's also unavoidably an issue for anyone making a prolonged stay in China--no matter how flexible your tastes and how open to new culinary experiences you might be.

I think I already mentioned I don't want to always eat out, in spite of there being plentiful and cheap restaurants and cafeterias. But cooking remains an experience which, for lack of a better word is "random". Forget about meticoulously following recipes, improvisation is the key here. So I'm sharing two recent concoctions which proved to be edible:

1) Noodles with egg à la Francesca:

Boil rice noodles. Drain and return to the hot stove. Add an egg. Add a vegetable of your choice. Saute briefly with cooking oil. Season with soy sauce. Scrape the wok.

2) Egg noodles with tofu à la Francesca:

Boil egg noodles (these come in a roundish "nest" shape and take more time to soften up). Drain and return to the hot stove  Add firm tofu cut into slices. Saute briefly with cooking oil. Season with soy sauce. Scrape the wok.

Tofu is a whole world in itself. There is even smoked tofu which looks and smells (unfortunately does not taste) like scamorza cheese. It also seems to be doing the job cheese does, as concerns calcium and protein intake.

I still haven't turned into some kind of zombie muttering "dairy..." instead of "brains..." so far. I got New Zealand cheddar from the Russian lady, as well as bread, which I'm missing more than I thought I would (I'm not a massive bread eater). I'm sure that my adventures in feeding myself and cooking with the local fare are not over.