Archive for the ‘101 Nifty Things About Shanghai’ Category

(101 Things About Shanghai) The Bund, reformatted


2011
01.27

Although I’ve been living in Shanghai for about a week shy of two years now, I’ve only been to the Bund 4 times. The first 3 times were fairly pointless as it was being renovated, just like everything else in Shanghai.

The first time I went, I was on the Pudong side looking across and was too jet lagged to make any record of it, whether mental or digital. I’m sure it was nice. I honestly can’t remember.

The second time I went was a month or so later, with Doug, back when we embarked on marathon walking tours of the city every weekend. It was almost entirely construction panels and dust, with a few open viewing areas.

Do you see the Bund? I can't see the Bund.

No, still no Bund. But I can see the Sex Toy in the distance.

Ah, so this is the Bund. Majestic.

I tried taking my parents there last year when they were here but we couldn’t get anywhere near anything- there were temporary walls everywhere, and scaffolding and more dust. We turned around and went for a coffee.

However, this year it was ready. It was probably ready months ago, in time for the Expo, but I wasn’t really paying attention. This time, you could see stuff. And not just cranes and plywood walls and hardhat signs. And you could walk three people side by side for ages along the river side walkway. A miracle in Shanghai. Normally you can barely fit one person anywhere.

A view! The Bottle Opener, the Sex Toy and other Fancy Buildings in Pudong

Watching the barges in the river

I’d show you the pictures of the lovely wide promenade that was practically deserted on the Monday morning when we went, but those are on my parents’ camera and their camera takes an unusually tiny USB cable that was accidentally left back in Canada. So no panoramas of the lovely open space and the ornate old colonial buildings and whatnot. Sorry.

I can, however, show you a photo of Gerald hard at work on his new novel, Sleep, Prey, Grubs.

Gerald is very busy

The Fabric Market, Part Trois


2010
11.25

I have been a very absent bloggist this month, which can be blamed partly on my faulty immune system combined with Shanghai’s post-Expo surge in atmospheric particles (record highs in smog, it seems!), and partly (mostly) on Nanowrimo, which has sucked up an average of 1667 of my creative words every day. I have been left feeling rather depleted.  This shall pass, however, as my shaky little immune system seems to be getting a second wind and my lungs are slowly getting used to breathing in all sorts of disconcertingly visible/crunchy air molecules and Nano is down to its last five days.

To mark my return to the interwebs, I would like to present to you my latest instalment in my plan to be totally clad in silk by 2012 (possibly even underpants and pjs).

Again with the silk

The photos were taken with my Mac’s photo booth in the living room around noon, so the light is a bit hazy. I apologize. This first one (which I am in fact wearing as we speak) is a lovely midnight blue with a lot of lovely delicately embroidered silver flowers.

Silk!

And this one is a lovely purply red with intricately interlaced pale gold and coloured tiny flowers, trimmed with a muted white gold silk edging.

The lengths of silk were around 60rmb each for 2.2 meters of fabric, bought at the awesome silk stall #229-230 at the ShiLiuPu cloth market on Dongmen Lu where I got my last round of green, flowery silks. They are just around the corner from Shirley at #216, who does my tailoring (aka copying).  The tunics themselves cost 100 rmb each for the sewing. The fabric folk do qipaos and bags and other pretty things but I haven’t actually used their sewing services because Shirley is just so reliably awesome.

(101 Things About Shanghai) Self-Medication


2010
11.06

I’ve had a bad cold for about a month now. I blame my students entirely. They have been coming to class with such dedication that the absentee rate is nearly nil and the cough-cough-hoark-hoark-sneeze-snort rate is very high. The desks and floor are littered in crumpled tissues, eyes are watery, noses snuffly, brains foggy, heads falling to desk in a daze. But they are dedicated and I do appreciate that.

Cissy's root tea and Mrs Mu's pressure point guide for colds and other ailments

I don’t, however, appreciate the ever-evolving, ever-mutating cold they have passed on to me.

I work in a 100% Chinese workplace, in a microscopically tiny department (me and two admin women) within a very large public university in North Shanghai. There are no Western concessions up there.

At home, I can fully inhabit a deceptively laowai expat existence, eating and reading and speaking absolutely nothing Chinese unless I venture outside and actually, like, interact.

At work, as soon as the metro creeps up past People’s Square on Line 1, it’s a whole other matter. I fully inhabit China. This means that all attempts to relieve my cold have been Chinese and it’s a head-trip down Unrecognizable Lane.

Take two and call me in the morning

First of all, there are the Warming Foods. It’s nearing winter now, so one’s diet needs to shift from cooling foods to warming foods if you don’t want to get sick. In the admin office across the hall, Cissy and Iris have stockpiled a huge bag of still-earthy hóng shǔ (aka dì guā or possibly hóng tiáo- everyone I asked gave it a different name), which is a kind of orange yam, much smaller than the gigantic ones sold by the men on street corners, baked in huge old oil drums.

They’ve been handing them out to everyone on my floor, so all the guys from the Mechanical Engineering department down the hall have been wandering around eating hot microwaved yams like ice cream cones. I’ve got a few raw, spare yams in my desk drawer, gifts from Iris because she’s worried I’m lacking in warming foods.

A spare yam, some flower teas, and an office-Chinese glossary

In addition to the yams, they’ve brought in a huge pot of fermented glutinous rice, which is apparently a warming winter food down where Cissy grew up, somewhere south of the Something River (I couldn’t catch the name, but it’s definitely south of here). She called it ‘brewed’ but it tasted more like a seriously boozy unsweetened unmilky rice pudding. For about a week when I first got my cold, I kept finding little paper cups filled with a few scoops of the fermented rice on my desk, concerned gifts from the office. Unfortunately, the overwhelmingly sharp fermented taste made me gag so I’d eat a few bites then carefully bury the rest in the bin, under my old tea leaves and steeped flower blossoms.

I prefer distilled rice

Yesterday, most of my students were quite ill (but still came) and my own cold decided over the course of the day to return in full force after a few days of near-health. This prompted Mrs Mu to act as informal TCM consultant.  Aside from an unexpectedly unChinese declaration that I needed to up my vitamin C tablet intake, she also taught me several new pressure points to work away at, specifically for colds. One was around the sinus area on either side of the nose, which makes sense. The other, totally unexpected one, was up at the top of the skull. If you have a cold, it becomes super-tender, which she proceeded to show me quite forcefully. I yelped a bit. It was definitely tender and I definitely have a cold.

Mrs Mu, kneading away at my skull, quite painfully

As I left work yesterday evening after nearly a dozen hours sniffling and snorting away in the office and classroom (as Fridays are my crappy 7am-5:15pm days), Cissy gave me a bag full of sachets of Banlangen root granules (see first photo, above) and told me to drink two packets at a time in hot water regularly over the weekend. I’ll make my first cup as soon as I’ve had another coffee. I have my priorities.

(101 Things About Shanghai) Provisions


2010
10.30

As I am gearing up for the improbably overambitious NaNoWriMo, I’ve had to scale back on actual thoughts about reality in Shanghai. This doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being horribly invasive with my mobile phone camera. I’m now up to 601 poorly focused pictures in my barely year-old phone. I intend to keep going until I max out the memory or until my neighbours finally snap and tell me to stop taking pictures of every bloody thing that happens on our street.

Can I show you some things?

Our street is part road, part unofficial pedestrian zone, part live-animal/vegetable/fresh noodle market.

Got eel?

These days, it’s hairy crab season so there are baby-bathtubs filled with live crabs everywhere. In the evenings, there are random crunchy crab parts underfoot and the occasional escaped crab scuttling to their freedom. I point them toward the river (which is far, but closer than the sea) and wish them fare-thee-well. Go crabs!

These days, every shop doubles as a crab shop

Things I hope to never see in my bath tub

Technicolour hairy crabs

Last month was river shrimp/crawfish/giant bug season- xiao long xia in Chinese- and the baby bathtubs were filled with grey shrimp-shaped creatures, writhing away with hoses steadily pouring fresh water into  their antechambers of death. In the evenings, the road was littered with tails and crunchy peelings with legs attached.

Fresh!

Lately, in addition to the fish and eels in the bath tubs, and the doomed chickens in cages next to metal trays covered in their unlucky brethren’s bloody feathers and entrails, and the frogs and turtles in netted buckets, there have been ducklings wandering around, loose. I don’t know if they are intended for a long-term dinner project or as pets, but they are available for purchase near the Jiadeli Supermarket on Jiashan, near Fuxing Lu.

Chickens (and other doomed birds) in the death cart

Free bird

Duck!

You can also buy turtles a la carte rather than in bulk from the buckets.

Get yer fresh turtle here!

And finally, because just as one ought to know where one’s meat comes from, one also ought to know where one’s mops come from.

I buy mine in bulk

(101 Things About Shanghai) More Things I Don’t Need


2010
10.28

You know you want them

Reflexology shower gel bath gloves and socklets for those days when you don’t have time to visit your friendly neighbourhood blind masseur. Sorry for the photo being a crappy mirror-image Photo Booth thing but I actually have to, like, go to work or something today and can’t spend all morning faffing about setting up a real shot. Aren’t they awesome?

(101 Things About Shanghai) The Mrs Mu Home Shopping Network


2010
10.24

My Tea and Herb Market Stash

For someone who has an incorrigible habit of packing up and moving every year or so (and sometimes even more often), I also have some terrible lingering pack-rat habits that have followed me from my much younger, more geographically stable days (like, pre-1993).

I buy stuff.

I buy really stupid, pointless stuff that I never use. Or use a few times (with great enthusiasm) then forget about.

I buy stuff that I end up leaving behind in flats in London, in Galway, in Cape Town, in Istanbul and Shanghai.  There are probably still South Park figurines stashed somewhere in a cold-water shack in rural Ghana and watercolour paint brushes in a closet in Shepherd’s Bush in West London. I know for a fact that I left twice my body weight in stuff behind in Turkey when I left two years ago.

For a limited time only!

I’m busy here in Shanghai accumulating more potential detritus that I know for certain won’t fit in the overhead luggage compartment: stuffed elephant and hippo from Ikea, a stuffed panda from Chengdu (all proceeds went to panda charities!), a yoga mat I haven’t unfurled in about 6 months, hand weights I haven’t lifted since august (I lift chalk! A lot- and when you write above shoulder height for five minutes on the blackboard it hurts! It’s a workout!), a ton of bootlegged books-by-the-gram, art supplies I picked up on Fuzhou Lu  over a year ago in a fit of creative inspiration that petered out embarrassingly quickly, a half dozen very large and awesome marionnettes from Myanmar, several very heavy (but pretty) not-really-antique metal statues from the not-really-antiques market on Dongtai lu, a slow cooker, a rice cooker, a marvellously heavy wok (well seasoned and pretty much the only thing we really use in the kitchen these days, aside from occasional slow cooker stews), a dozen pairs of shoes that almost fit me but not really, and, um, yeah, other stuff.

I haven’t exactly sold all my belongings to start my life of minimalist freedom on the road.

In fact, I’m making it worse. Or rather, Mrs Mu in my office at work is making it worse: she only comes in once a week (she’s a part time lecturer at my university) but her influence is far greater than the time I’ve spent with her ought to be.

I buy stuff from her. Or rather, I buy stuff through her. She has an incorrigible TaoBao addiction, with TaoBao being the Chinese version of eBay.  Every Friday, she comes into the office, grinning from ear to ear, showing me her latest toys. She buys awesome toys. Let me show you what she brought in last week, which I then begged her to get me:

The Health Hammer ™ as modeled by Kevin The Panda:

You know it's good when pandas like it

Health Hammer, only 20rmb!

This is a handy dandy 3-function qi aligner, with a bonus back scratcher attachment that doubles as a hand-qi-rake.

The pointy hairbrush bit on one side of the mallet end is for strategic pounding of your arms and legs and feet, like the old men and women do with just their fists as they take their exercise down our street at 6am, smacking themselves as they walk.

There is a knobbly hard plastic dome on the other side of the hairbrushy bit that is for the second stage of pounding your extremities. It feels pretty good after a long day of writing at above shoulder level on a chalkboard.

I bought two.

She’s also notorious for regular visits to the tea and medicinal herbs (and bark and twig and dried animal) market near the university. I have already written a post about my attempt to go there to buy something magical that would give me energy, vitality and perhaps a hint of immortality.  A lot of those bags of bark and twig are still in the kitchen drawer because they taste so vile when brewed that I approach them only every few months.

However, I don’t need to actually go there myself to buy things using my handwritten herbal glossary and Lonely Planet useless phrasebook and my embarrassingly mispronounced skills in mandarin. She goes there weekly and asks me ever so casually yet enticingly if I’d like her to pick anything up for me. I would! Of course I would!

So now I have these (and more) in my desk drawer at work:

This makes skin pretty!

This makes you magically slim!

This ones gives you dewey skin AND boosts the immune system!

And I actually do drink these.  For now.

(101 Things about Shanghai) Mops and Kibble Buffets


2010
10.18

The Mops of our Building

It’s Monday evening and I’m tired from a semi longish day trying to persuade my  students to engage in the learning process so I’m offering another instalment of Mops of Shanghai.

This first set of mops is from just at the entrance to our building. There are usually a few there, balanced atop one another, drying in the sunshine. They have a good life. They seem happy, by mop standards.

And the mops at our gate, outside the massage house

These ones are at the gate to our building (the entrance is round back), belonging to the massage parlor that occupies the bottom front portion of it.  They don’t seem as rested or calm as the entrance ones. Dishevelled, a bit scraggly, with only a fire hydrant to perch on. They have each other.

The Weekend Kibble Buffet

Back at the entrance to our building, we find the weekend cat buffet. It seems to only come out at weekends and I’m guessing there is free flowing champagne as well in the guard house. During the week, the cats only get a small tray with a handful of kibble from a jar in the utility room.

Captain Rainbow, our gatekeeper

And this is Captain Rainbow, the primary cat of our building, the cat with fabulously mismatched blue and green eyes. There are other cats that come and go, all related in their whiteness. Captain Rainbow is our constant though, and can be found in the bushes or, when available, parking spot #10. At our old flat, we had a family of ginger cats who were also well catered to. That whole mythology about Chinese people and cats and stir fries (probably based on famines/deprivation/great leap forward agrarian miscalculation) does not apply here.  These cats are well tended to.

(101 Things About Shanghai) The ShiLiuPu Fabric Market Part 2


2010
09.23

I got my stuff. Oh, god but it’s lovely.

I'm ready for my close-up, Mr DeMille

Pretty flowers, pretty dragonflies

Dragonflies, up close

The trousers are a deep burgundy cotton, very flared

Dragonfly tunic makes me happy

Tiny embroidered flowers on a sea of soft blue silk, oh yes

The fit! The fit! It...fits!

Everything here was made by Shirley in shop #216 in the fabric market at 168 DongMen Road in Shanghai. She’s awesome.

(101 Things About Shanghai) The Fabric Market


2010
09.14

Silk! Yay!

One of the more precarious aspects about living abroad has been finding clothes to cover my body.  In Turkey, I discovered that my arms, legs and torso were significantly longer than the average Turk of my hip-waist measurements so all my shirt cuffs ended about an inch shy of my wrists (mighty cold in winter) and the gap between my waistband and the bottom of my shirt was usually at least a few inches of pasty white skin (both chilly and quite provocative in the wilds of rural Anatolia).

In Shanghai, I don’t have a hope in hell of finding anything with my  measurements as even my skeleton wouldn’t fit into standard Chinese women’s sizes. Aside from one pair of jeans found at the bottom of a pile in a hidden storage room in the Nanjing Rd fakes market and a few imported sleeveless tops with long waists, I’ve had little luck with clothing here.  I brought what I needed from Canada and crossed my fingers that everything would be just fine.

And then Myanmar happened.

In the space of one month, I completely destroyed my entire summer wardrobe.

My 3 cotton knee-length kameez brought back from Mumbai in 2007 were, in quick succession, ripped, stained, worn through, worn out.

Qipao Central

My lovely pink and white one had a huge bright green stripe across the back and bosom where the humidity had leached the dye out of my shoulderbag. Nicaraguans use fierce dye in their handbags. Even if it could come out, the cotton had worn so thin that my bra was visible through the increasingly transparant cloth over my bosom.

Another one got accidentally tie dyed by being washed with my lovely burgundy  Nepali cotton trousers (which also got ripped and stretched somewhere along the line); another started ripping a huge hole in the neckline and tufts of the seam liner started popping out. I was starting to look very scruffy indeed.

But what was I to do?

Oh, oh, the fabric market in Dongmen Lu!

I’d never been brave enough to go there on my own as it has a fierce reputation at weekends. However, a friend with a tailor in mind invited me to tag along on her new-shirts run mid-week.

I decided I’d get my shattered tunics and trousers copied.

Fabric fabric everywhere but not a drop to drink

We went to her tailor, a lovely woman with a stall near the escalator, filled with tailored blouses and work trousers and cashmere winter coats.  I showed her my scruffy old rags and she gave me estimates for how much fabric I’d have to buy to replicate them.

Armed with my measurements list and my already rusty Chinese, we set out to buy simple soft cottons.  That aim was soon rethought when we hit the silk section.

I rakishly decided to have all 3 of my kameez remade in beautiful soft shimmery embroidered silk (dragon flies! pretty flowers!).

With the cost of the silk for 3 knee length tunics (between 2 and 2.5 meters each), plus a few meters of burgundy cotton to remake my dying trousers, and the cost of the tailor, it’ll come to about 700rmb for the lot. That’s just a bit over $100US. Madness.

They’ll be done next week.

Hopefully Shanghai will have cooled down by then because, by gum, silk isn’t so good in a sweatbox.

I may regret this.

You want fabric?

Purrrrty

Mmmmm texturey...

(101 Things About Shanghai) 2 Mops and a Mobile Florist


2010
09.09

This one is an unfortunate amputee

I finally learned how to annotate a Preview File! (click to embiggen)

For all your houseplant needs (Donghu Lu @ Changle Lu)

(101 Things About Shanghai) Summer Nights


2010
08.28

I wear my sunglasses at night

Shanghai summers are deeply unpleasant. Temperatures tend to hover in the mid 30s, with weather forecasts adding ‘feels like 45+’ just below the technically correct temperature. Humidity has been around 85% lately, which, really, honestly, is pretty freaking awful.

We have the dehumidifier running nearly non stop in the living room because if we turn it off while we are out during the day, we’d come back to a greenhouse (except with dead houseplants instead of a verdant nursery).

At night, the bedroom AC is on full blast so we don’t wake up with heat stroke headaches. I’ve got endless bronchial barking in my lungs from the hot, wet air outside and the nasty recycled inside air.

But we have it lucky- we have a lovely new set of AC units in a lovely airy flat and we have salaries that can afford to shell out 350rmb/month for the privilege.

Around us, the housing is all low rise, low rent, cramped lane housing.  Most don’t show any signs of having ACs set up and most just leave their windows flung wide open. Some sleep outside for ventilation. Just down the street I saw a makeshift bed set up on the sidewalk, with room for one adult, draped in mosquito netting.  It’s been there since June.

Wild Nights

In the evenings, every evening, the sidewalks are filled with people sitting on folding lawn chairs (alas, no lawn), in shorts and cotton shifts. The men sit with their shirts hoisted up over their hairless bellies; the women sit in short thin dresses with thin legs ending in circulation-cutting nylon anklet pantyhose under their sandals.  They sit and fan themselves and play cards and talk.

We’ve walked over to the area near Xintiandi in the evenings for dinner a few times this month, nearing the old town, and the parks and sidewalks have been filled with people, sitting people, loitering people, people out for some moving air and hint of breeze.

With luck, by mid October everything should be reasonable again.

(101 Things about Shanghai) Work/Learn/Chocolate


2010
08.17

OMFG Cupcakes!

Things have been somewhat unsettled here on the Eastern Front since getting back from Myanmar.

Aside from the unnervingly deafening death rattle of the cicadas everywhere above you in the trees, the heat has been hovering in the late 30s with a bazillion percent humidity.

We have our dehumidifier running constantly. Last year, when we didn’t do that, our flat was reduced to a scary box full of mildew within a month. So far, with all windows shut against the hostile outside atmosphere and all machinery on full blast in the flat, we are comfortable but wheezy from the recycled air.

I’m looking forward to the Reasonable Season in October (Shanghai’s only really decent month).

On top of the heat, I also have my new intensive Chinese course, which started last week. I’m studying 4 hours a day, five days a week, for a month. I think I may actually be learning something. I waited a year and a half to start learning Chinese in any sort of consistent, non-half-assed way. I think I was still subconsciously annoyed that I had to start learning language number 5 (after French, Afrikaans, Turkish, Spanish) when I was still pretty pissed off just with being in Shanghai and not in Istanbul. I’m better now.

I’ll have even more time to study come autumn, as my university program is being massively cut due to an acute lack of existing students.  Declining birth rates in the early 1990s due to the one-child policy have resulted in fewer and fewer students writing the GaoKao university entrance exams each year and our program has gone from 5 teachers to 4 teachers to 2.5 teachers over the course of three years.

Come September, I’ll be the .5 teacher.  Yes, part time, up in my little bleak tower on the 9th floor of a tower block in north Shanghai, next to the elevated freeway. I’m actually pretty stoked, as they’ve already paid for my full time work/residence permit. I have enough Super Sekrit Testing Work lined up to not worry about having only a half salary and am rubbing my hands with glee at the notion of only teaching 9 hours a week and having the rest of the time free for evil machinations.

This theme of work and study leads awkwardly to my final theme of chocolate, which came about on our walk down XiangYang Lu, heading home after doing a ton of Super Sekrit marking this afternoon, just after my 89% certain part-time status was confirmed by my school . Just before our turnoff on Yongjia Lu we noticed that Awfully Chocolate had expanded from one side of a building to both sides of a building.

Truffles! Not pork floss!

Awfully Chocolate were famous for being a super duper cake shop that never actually displayed any cakes on the premises. You’d go into their stark white, minimalist (read: empty) little shop, wide open to the street through a huge wall-sized window, and peruse a catalogue which gave you the option of a small, medium or large Chocolate cake.

Now that they occupy the north side of the first floor as well as the southern side, they’ve added a minimalist counter carrying three things: cupcakes and truffles and seasonal dark chocolate moon cakes (in an fake antique wooden box, no less).

Inevitably, we went in. I’d had cupcakes on my mind for quite some time now. Sweet things in Shanghai really don’t float my boat much- I’m coping with occasional mochi gummies from Aji Ichiban and the occasional half melted Kinder Bueno from the supermarket down the street but I can’t bring myself to be even remotely enthused about the sweets and fake cakes found in the shops. Thus, I don’t bother. Thus, I’ve lost 8 kilo since I got here. I wonder if there is a connection (no comments, please).

Anyway, cupcakes. They look lovely. Really lovely. I haven’t even tried mine yet, aside from a small chartreuse plastic spoonful of the icing from the white one.  I’m too reluctant to mar their prettiness with spoon marks and stray crumbs. They still sit on the dining room table looking utterly gorgeous. They’re 25 rmb each, which is slightly outrageous but deservedly so. I bought one chocolate+chocolate one and one white-chocolate+chocolate one.  Doug bought a small baggie of the truffles (about 10 for 60rmb) and vouches for their awesomeness.  They are so rich and intense that he stopped at two.  I can’t decide whether I’m delighted or horrified by this discovery of cupcakes and truffles barely two blocks from our flat. It could be my downfall.

Awfully Chocolate 174 South Xiangyang Road/ 169 Wujiang Road in Point Plaza, Shanghai

(101 Things About Shanghai) Fake Books


2010
07.09

One of these books is 2 kuai lighter than the other

One of the things about living in faraway lands that can be frustrating for a nerd like me is the frequently limited access to English books. In Turkey, they were quite pricey but I bought them anyway. A girl has needs, you see.

I had to leave 75% of them behind when I left (there may still be a MaryAnne Memorial Library in the teachers’ room at EF Levent), amounting to about 1000 lira’s worth of abandoned books. I could have travelled in Bulgaria for a month on what I had spent on books. However, books are a necessary part of my sanity.

Enter Shanghai and the marvellous Chinese disregard for copyright law.

You can buy real books here in many places and pay real book prices. You get a pretty good selection too, if you want to follow that path.

There are, however, alternatives.

There are the guys with the wooden carts that park themselves on random street corners in neighbourhoods known for their laowai populations. They veer heavily toward zeitgeisty business tomes, like Microtrends or Outliers or The Black Swan, as well as rather unexpected Haruki Murakamis or Candace Bushnells or Salman Rushdies. I’ve bought a few shrink wrapped novels from them. The same titles can also be found in fake dvd shops, again and again and again. These ones generally sell for around 15rmb (just over $2).

Yesterday I discovered a new source on Shanxi Nan Lu, near Nanchang Lu: a bookshop that mainly stocks Chinese books, with a shrink-wrapped laowai section at the front. I found a few books there that I hadn’t seen in other places. Since we’re going away for a month to Myanmar tonight, I thought I’d stock up on reading materials. I asked the woman how much my books cost. She took each one separately and weighed them. The thicker book was 10rmb, the lighter one only 8rmb.

I think this was the first time I’d ever bought books by weight.

(101 Things About Shanghai) Sidewalk? You want to walk on the sidewalk? Whoaaaa!


2010
07.08

You want to walk on the sidewalk? Yeah, no, sorry, sidewalks are for, like, naps

(101 Things About Shanghai) Fast Food for Sino Taste Buds


2010
07.08

My close up, Mr DeMille?

One of the things I’ve noticed in my years of living elsewhere, is that multinational fast food places seem to try really hard to court their local markets by attempting to mould their products into something vaguely resembling the local tastes.  I remember seeing a Mc Turco in Turkey, which was some sort of scary meat product on a fake pide; in London, there were (Mc) masala spiced fries and vegan burgers; in Cape Town, with its huge Muslim population, all KFCs were completely halal and noted that fact quite clearly in big signs above the counter.

Here in Shanghai, you can buy taro root pies (they are soft purple and look like they should contain a synthetic grape-flavoured custard) or banana pies at Mc Donalds. At KFC you can get battered scallops, congee (watery rice porridge), Beijing duck wraps, and shaobing (round  toasted cakes covered in sesame seeds).

When I was walking to Nanjing Dong Lu to get my mystery meds for the first aid kit yesterday, I passed through an underground walkway, where the walls were completely covered in KFC ads. What I found fascinating about them was how they had ever so slightly tweaked the generic norm to fit Chinese tastes.

Bitter gourd, rice, mushroom sauce and chicken strips

1. A great big heaping pile of rice in the center of the plate. No meal is a meal without a shitload of rice. No rice? No meal!

2. Bitter gourd as a side dish. I dare you to serve stir fried bitter gourd at a KFC in St Louis.

3. People eating everything with spoons. This one confused me- gringos would have used a fork and I thought people here would use chopsticks. Maybe a spoon is seen as a halfway point in the globalization of fast food?

4. Food served in lots of thick sauce. The Shanghai taste runs toward heavy, sweet, thick braised foods.  Fungi are big as well, hence the mushroom sauce. Gotta have your fungus.

5. Red background- Luck? Fortune? Prosperity?

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