Remember that delusional law that says every city south of the Yangtze River is Tropical and therefore needn’t have, say, indoor heating in public buildings or properly insulated flats? Yes, that one.
I would like to take a moment to show you a few scenes from tropical Shanghai on the first day of 2011. Temperature is around -5. Am guessing the icicles are just a kooky way of expressing tropicality.
I failed to get a photo of the frozen-solid-with-chunks-of-ice-all-over salted dried eels on our street, or the flayed chicken carcasses covered in frost, but I did get some laundry. And a mop. An icicle mop: a revolution in moppery.
We went to Kommune for breakfast when we discovered the Wagas wasn’t opening until ten. We walked a huge loop up Xiangyang to Huaihai to Ruijin Er and down to Taikang then further down to Dapu and then up to home again. I still can’t feel my legs. My jeans are chilled.
At Kommune, you could sit outside if you were insane. Hot water bottle and blanket provided. Builds character.
We went inside. I had a latte in a jar. Like whiskey, except different.
I saw a nifty wall. I’d only ever gone all the way down Taikang lu at night when I was lost and searching for a friend’s flat in all the wrong places. I somehow missed the tulle.
And when I left Doug to go continue his search for his PS3 after two initial failed attempts (everything was closed in the morning), I saw another mop, this time joined by shoes and pretty light.