Darned slippery rail.

Remember that sliding rail I bought a couple weeks ago?... Wow, I didn't realize it was already that long....

Well, after all the trouble that stupid thing caused me in Shanghai, I kind of figured it had gotten out all its bad juju and it would leave me alone. But, of course, the story of the sliding bearing did not end in Shanghai.

The carriage, the green rectangle thing, just slides up and down the rail.
How hard is it to find something like that?

I guess it's my fault really, after all, what kind of idiot was I to try and buy a second one?

The piece is for a kind of gadget I've been trying to build properly for years, a gadget that is attached to the wearer's wrists. And since most people have two wrists, I wanted to make two of this kind of gadget. Also, having extra parts is always helpful on experimental builds.

So, knowing about a local string of hardware stores that were probably planned by the guy behind Water Bottle Street, I set out to find a shop like the one I discovered in Shanghai.

The first shop I visited had no idea what it was. They didn't even know where I could go to find out what it was. So I asked the next shop in line. Their ignorance was as complete as turkey with gravy. The next shop had as many clues as elephants. After that, I asked the next shop, which sold power tools. At first, I was hesitant to even investigate here; they probably didn't stock anything but the most basic components, and they certainly wouldn't have something like this.

And I was right about both things. But the lady behind the desk was helpful regardless.

She knew were I could continue my search. It was a little tricky understanding the directions she gave me, so I gave her my notebook and she sketched and labeled an intersection where I could find a potential vendor. This was the best information I had gotten all day, and I was quite thankful, but I could hardly distinguish any of the characters  she had written. She assured me that a taxi would understand the diagram, so I took her word and picture and set out.

I couldn't even figure out how to look these words up in the dictionary
so I could tell the cabby.

Miraculously, this fortune was followed by a second; the cabby easily understood the pictogram without any input from me.

Rewind to the previous Friday for a second, to another time I was in a taxi, on my way to a tutoring job. We passed a string of stores that looked like they sold hardware and tools. As anyone who knows me would expect, I took notice of this and planned to visit the place after the tutoring appointment next week.

Turns out I was back sooner than I thought; that street was a block from where the cabby dropped me off.

I went into the store, noticing the many bearings stacked along their shelves, and asked them if they had the kind that I needed.

Nope.

Did they know where I could find them?

Somewhere in that direction.

Great.

Once again I started walking into stores asking them if they sold the kind of thing I was holding. The specific sentence I kept repeating was "你知道我在哪儿可以买这样东西？" (Do you know where I can find this kind of thing?) Which was the correct question that never seemed to yield the correct answer.

After about four shops I hit an appliance mall, so I doubled back and tried the stores on the other side of the first one. Pretty soon, I found a more professional looking space that had actual desks and clean tile where other shops had overfull shelves and dirty wood floors. This time, they seemed to recognize the bearing, but they didn't have it in stock.

No matter, they did have a catalog! After they took a few measurements and scrutinized the rail, they told me that it wasn't branded. Huh, no surprise there, I hadn't exactly paid for a quality guaranteed Mouser system. Regardless, they seemed to have found it in the catalog based on its measurements, but they would have to order it.

I wasn't really interested in that. I didn't want to wait around for it, for what could be weeks, and pay for shipping, and I was sure that one of these places must have it, or something close enough, already in stock. I thanked the ladies for looking it up, and asked them if any other shop would have it.

Of course there weren't any other shops that sold it, their's was the only shop in this entire area, which I would later discover was bigger than the lot where the Frederick Towne Mall resided, that could order this component for me.

I instantly recognized how ridiculous this whopper was, and though I recognized the reason for it, I still couldn't believe they dropped it on me. It was sort of like going to a restaurant in Frederick, a generally Coke-Cola town, and being told that they were the only place for a mile around that served Pepsi and that it would cost twice what a Coke did.

I already wasn't keen on ordering the part, and after learning this shop would be my "only" chance, I excused myself .

I was fairly disheartened at this point; including the shops before the taxi ride, I had hit over a dozen places, 90% of them said something like “没见了" (I've never seen this before) and only one of them even knew how to get what I needed. Even though there was another string of unexplored shops across the street by this time I was about to give up the chase. Perhaps the only option really was catalog ordering. And I was already tired. And the sun was so bright.

Pff, I wouldn't give up that easily.

Turns out, the shops those ladies were talking about when they said that no one sold what I wanted only included the shops on their side of the street. Less than ten minutes after walking out their door, I had found a guy who sold linear bearing carriages almost identical to the ones I already had. (The carriage is the part that slides about on the rail.) 

Unfortunately, the man didn't have any rails the size I needed, but he could order them from, what else, a catalog!

And that is when a very interesting thing happened for a second time. Some readers may remember when I was questing for solder and a new phone, and just as I asked where I could buy solder the guy's wife came out of nowhere to give me a price on their own solder, earning them a sale. This time, just after I learned that he was going to get it shipped form a catalog and I was about to end the sale, his wife spoke up to say the perfect thing.

She said that delivery would take three or four days.

Those other ladies never mentioned a time, and I had assumed it would take at least two weeks based on previous, albeit small, experience with Chinese shipping. And the price was good, the guy seemed trustworthy, and assured me the rail would fit the extra carriage I had. Also, I had realized a couple of other things since I walked away form that other shop with their extremely exclusive catalog, like, maybe I happened to by a part that generally wasn't stocked. And, even if I paid extra, I would probably never find this component at this price in America. And, I would probably just end up catalog ordering this thing in America anyway.

After getting the price, ever cautious of dumb decisions after getting my phone, I told the guy I would pay him half now, and then the rest when I got the piece. (Honest question for readers, is this an appropriate thing to do?)

He understood, and told me it would be in around Saturday. He also showed me the shop next to his where I could buy hardware to mount the components I had, and had just ordered.

At this point, I had gotten what I was looking for, and some hardware to boot. But a bag of screws and washers didn't seem very conclusive, even if a rail was on the way. Hmm... Perhaps I could also get a spring for this thing. Shouldn't be too hard, I just needed something a couple inches long.

Man, that was a terrible idea. That place seemed to be completely out, and by 'place' I don't mean shop. Or shops. Or even that market. Absolutely no one had extension springs. I spent easily an hour wandering up and down the street. And an oddly creepy indoor market(?) with a remarkable number of empty stalls. And a 'village' that contained enough hydraulics to build a robotic T-rex.

And that was the weird thing. Every third shop sold hydraulics, on the street, in the village and the market. How could this city possibly need so many? I know they're important for factories, but those were miles away and I would imagine they order their own parts directly.

It was a proper water bottle street conundrum. And the confusing aspect was multiplied by the fact that they didn't even have any other types of springs. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I would think those two would go hand in hand; in all the How It's Made videos I've seen, machines with linear and rotational motion always need springs. Except, apparently, for whatever these shops were supplying.

Finally, I concluded my search. I think I had tripled my 'visited stores' tally, and had nothing to show for it save a very strong impression that this place sold hydraulics.

After peeking my head into the dozenth  store full of pistons and pumps, I got a taxi to the one of the many malls in the area, marking a shift in focus from the mechanical to the nutritional. Lunchtime had already passed as I considered how many robot dinosaurs a particular shop could equip, and my wandering had left me famished.

I felt better after eating, but not good enough to continue looking for the spring, so I got some cheap electronic accessories and concluded my day there.

I guess it wasn't totally fruitless, but it was frustrating.

It is kind of interesting though. The rail I bought is designed to keep things moving in a linear fashion. And yet, it was only when I deviated from my linear thinking did I get anywhere. Why would I go looking for a linear bearing in a power tool shop? I'm not sure why I thought what I needed was across the street minutes after being told no one in the city sold it. And I couldn't have gotten what I wanted if I stayed determined to avoid catalogs. 

But what thought should I have departed from to get that darn spring?

Perhaps to get that, I should have been inelastic, unyielding in my drive to find it.

Since all this happened, which was on Tuesday, a bit more of the story has developed. My order came in, exactly when the guy said it would, and the new rail is exactly what I wanted, so ordering from him turned out to be a great idea. Also, I found the spring I needed, and it was nowhere near that district; it came out of a stapler. I'm not sure what kind of reflection that has on what I said above about ways of thinking, but it's sort of moot anyway now that I have what I need.

Shanghai Noon on the Day of Water

Lighting crackled through the sky; lighting up the clouds around our plane like the flash on God's camera. Then, in the pitch black that followed, we started diving.

The stomach churning decent lasted several seconds before we regained a level flight path, but level hardly meant flat. Our small airliner was jostled around, with the first noticeable lateral motion I've ever felt on a plane, interrupted by more lighting. Some of it seemed so bright I would have guessed it actually went through the plane. The seat belt lights never went off, even after the quaking and lighting subsided.

It had all started much earlier, as I felt the first few raindrops on my neck after leaving the aquarium. I gave the rain more notice than usual because, unlike the frequent torrents Maryland experiences, Shijiazhuang rain was infrequent and light. I estimate that we have gotten less than two inches since I arrived. 

It didn't occur to me that the drops that I was feeling would lead to such a dramatic effect later, mostly because I was preoccupied by figuring out if the aquarium I had just left was really worth it. It had been pretty cool, perhaps a tier below the Aquarium I visited several times while I lived in New Jersey. They had a lot of the usual freshwater and jellyfish exhibits, as well as a neat underwater tube thing.  For an experience like that, I generally wouldn't have thought twice about the value of it, but it was on my mind because I had borrowed 100 rmb from Ruud to get in.

The moment I had to call out that loan was pretty awkward. We had just arrived at the gate, and there were several people in line behind me as I opened my wallet to pay for the 160 rmb ticket. 

Only to discovered that I only had 100.

I gave the teller a panicked look and left the line so the people behind me wouldn't have to wait. Then I had to admit to the group that I didn't have the cash, so Ruud spotted me some, making it possible for me to join them. I was really appreciative of that. Especially because I had run short of cash for a stupid reason.

The first day we arrived in Shanghai I had noticed an odd little shop right outside the hostel. This shop sold linear and rotation actuators and bearings, exactly the kind of thing I needed for one of my building projects back in the States. But, in America, I hadn't found a shop where I could see the pieces before I bought them and where I could buy in very small amounts. Also, I would bet that an American company would charge more than a small shop in Shanghai.

However, despite having this shop literally right under my nose all weekend, I hadn't had a chance to visit and carefully choose what I wanted. The last chance I had was Monday morning, just before I went with the crew to the aquarium, and I was a bit rushed.

I kind of budgeted 100 rmb, but that was flexible because I had no idea what to expect. So, when the guy quoted it at 130 I didn't even hesitate. Less than a minute after that transaction, we were heading to the subway and the purchase was secure in my bag and out of my thoughts. 

The rail and slider I bought didn't really surface again until I was at the airport. And where, of all the places in an airport would they resurface? Security check.

I had thought the 'loan in the middle of the gate' was a bad moment, but I could have sweated through a wool blazer when the airport security attendant pulled the odd, long metal object out of my backpack, giving it a suspicious glare. Until they were pulled form my bag, I never thought the rail and slider looked threatening, but in that moment I wasn't sure if the attendant would agree with me. She consulted more than once with the x-ray operator behind her. I wondered if they would give me translator when they pulled me aside.

Then, in a miraculous moment of benevolence, she put it back, zipped up the pocket and gave me my backpack.

It is comforting to me that every single unpleasant thing that happened that day, and on every day since, is over. But I'm glad I have the memories.

(For all the trouble that rail and slider caused me, until I sat here to write this post, I had forgotten that it was in the backpack I've used every day since then. Funny how things work, huh?)

Shanghai Noon on the Day of Wander Part II

After surfacing from the market, I evaluated my resources. Though I had spent more than I wanted to, I did have a couple hundred in my backpack for an emergency, and I figured the crew couldn't be too far since we hadn't even been separated an hour. But, that didn't do anything for my phone, which I would need in case they contacted me, and I still didn't know where I was. Perhaps, since I had my charger in my backpack, I could find a McDonald's where I could charge up and take care of both problems.

So I set out towards a street that seemed to lead back to the city. At this point, looking around actually made me even more confused; there weren't any buildings other the Shanghai Science and Technology Museum for quite a distance, and none of the buildings I did see on the horizon were familiar. I couldn't even see the Shanghai tower. I was surrounded by trees, a memorial of sorts, a couple decorative flower patches, and an abandoned attempt at recreating the Space Needle:

They didn't even anchor it proper.y!

The directory on the corner didn't help at all; it was all Chinese and didn't even seem to have a bus route. But, it did seem like I was a bit of a walk from any place that I could use as an oasis.

Then, finally, Ross called me to see if I was done shopping.

I was definitely done shopping, so he told me the crew was chilling in Century Park, not far from the museum. Well, hanging out in at the park sounded better than wandering around in the city, so I took a picture of the unfinished UFO and, following Ross' direction, turned back the way I came to find this Century Park.

(Though I never understood that half-finished spaceship, to this day I hope that it finds its parent, which I believe is the Pearl of the Orient. Maybe together they can rendezvous with those weird buildings from Seattle, then go back to Mars, where they will be awarded gigantic medals for the service they performed on our planet.)

I found out later that Century park is the largest park in Shanghai, but that sure didn't make it easy to find. After exchanging texts with Ross it took me about 30 minutes to find it. (To be honest, I was walking in a straight line, but I don't think I ever passed a sign to indicate it was the right straight line.) And it was a proper "over the river and through the woods memorial" journey.

Ross said the crew would meet me at the gate, but upon arrival, I didn't see any white people. I just saw lots of Chinese walking along the edge of the park's lake. Some were also riding in bike-cars which sat between 2 and 6 people. Oh, look; that one has a bunch of foreign people in it!

They had rented the contraption for an hour, and we used every minute of that to explore the park. In China, the roads can be a bit chaotic with cars relentlessly overtaking each other with little regard for road conditions. I think the foreign teachers were kind of getting revenge for that with our bike-car. Because our vehicle had seats for four pedalers and two passengers, and everyone on the pedals was in prime pedaling condition, we had a lot more horsepower than any other vehicle on the road. We careened around that park with great vigor, swinging past other vehicles, weaving through the crowds, and making a great noise. At any given moment, the driver may have been holding a debate to see what direction we would turn next, Jess may have been gasping as yet another kid wandered toward us, and the people in the back seat held conversations about the queer park-going habits of the Chinese.

This may all sound a bit reckless, but don't worry. No matter how worried Jess got, we never actually hit anyone. Though I have to say, some of those kids were lucky their parents were watching.

After that invigorating journey, everyone was ready for lunch, which had been arranged at a restaurant called Pizza Express. Initially, I thought it was an American style pizzeria where we could pick up a pie for cheap, maybe 50 rmb to serve two or three people. No such luck, a single serving Quatrro Formaggi was 75. But at least it was made with all authentic ingredients, and it marked the authentic end of my cash on hand.

After that, I was about done spending money; I listened to see what everyone else was doing after lunch so I could tag along with someone doing something cheap. I'm glad I listened, because Quetin said he was going to visit one of the city's skyscrapers. Perfect; Quetin was a good traveling companion, I also wanted to see the skyline from above, and I knew that this excursion wouldn't cost much more than 150.

I hit the ATM after leaving Pizza Express, and we decided to go to the Jin Mao Tower. It isn't the tallest part of the skyline, but it's not far from it. Also, the price of admission to visit the observatory deck on the 88th floor wasn't as expensive as the other buildings.

From left: Shanghai World Financial Center, Jin Mao Tower, Shanghai Tower

Fortunately, the line to visit the tower wasn't very long, and after a 50 second elevator ride, Que and I were 1300 ft above Shanghai. We could see the city for miles; the smaller buildings were like Lego towers, the cars looked were smaller than Hot Wheels, and the people were too small to see.

Then, I saw the Shanghai Tower and I reevaluated my assumptions about humanity.

There were buildings that, from the streets, were very tall, over 30 stories. I am mildly afraid of heights, and when I was little, before I started rock-climbing, I would get vertigo just from looking up at tall places. There were buildings that were of such height in Shanghai. From the Jin Mao Tower, these buildings were puny; we literally towered over them, as high as a bird. But, the Shanghai Tower stood that high, yet again, above us. I felt like the view was hardly different than it was form the street; I just had a better appreciation for the details than I did from down there.

That is just how tall the Shanghai Tower is.

Humans built a tower so tall, that it can create that feeling, which makes me doubt some of the things I've heard people say we are incapable of. Perhaps a space elevator won't always be science fiction, and maybe The Avenger's Heli-Carrier won't be just VFX forever.

This is the Shanghai Tower, from the top of the Jin Mao Tower.

The hotel lobby inside the Jin Mao Tower is over 300 feet tall

After that spirit raising excursion, we returned to Earth and, back at the hostel, joined the crew for a more grounded activity; drinking. After getting started a couple cocktails at the hostel, the other guys got beers, we headed out to the Bund again, this time to see the Shanghai skyline at night.

We were too late. Evidently, the lights go off before 12.

Instead, we got logical and played charades. I'm not kidding. At 12:30 AM, on the abandoned Bund, with a worker cleaning the space behind us, we played charades. I managed to act out 'Yellow Submarine,' 'The Art of War' and 'The Road.' Somehow.

The inebriated crew eventually tired of the game, perhaps they were sobering, so Ross told us that he knew a bar nearby that we could hang out at. That bar was called Jerry's, and as Ross described it; "This is the dirtiest, dive-barriest dive bar. Ever."

I'll believe him on that; I have never seen a place with graffiti across the *entire* ceiling and walls and tables and most of the chairs and the bar itself. I would have taken a picture, but between the haze and the barely lighting, nothing showed up. They served Coke and whiskey in metal pails, and there were bongs that could be brought to tables if someone wanted more than alcohol. Fortunately, my group was content without that. After a short while, we found a table, and everyone settled in and drank.

Having an intolerance for beer that even social pressure couldn't shake, I ordered a 'Flamingo,' but I was getting woozy, so that was my last drink.

Most of the rest of that night sort of slid past, but I remember something else Ross said as someone was losing very badly at Ride the Bus at the table beside him. He told me that the most important thing to do when you're drinking is to make sure, no matter how wasted you get, you can always get home. He assured me that he may finish his entire pail of whiskey and Coke, and drink another one after that, but he would still find his way back to the hostel when he was done.

I felt like this had some importance, some application that may have been useful, some archaic meaning, some critical connotation....

But perhaps he was just really drunk.

Shanghai Noon on the Day of Wander Part I

The second day in Shanghai was no less impressive than the first, though it was even more expensive.

After a late morning, I tagged along with Jess, Andrew, Meggy, Ross, Quinten and Ruud to one of Shanghai's famous fake markets. I was pretty excited to get some good deals, but I had no idea how to barter properly, so the crew gave me some tips on the ride over.

1. The vendor will always give an insane price to start off, it may be 6 times what should you pay.
2. You should start with a price that is so low you feel bad for mentioning it.
3. If they say that their kids will starve if they sell it for that price, let them know that you will starve if you pay what they're asking.
4. Walk away if they give you a hard time.

This advice was all well and good, but I still didn't have any values to base this off of; how do I tell if they're starting offer is 6x or 3x what I should pay? What if my starting price is so low they get offended? And, since this is the fake market, how do I even estimate what I should really pay for something?

And then, when we arrived, the others sort of figured they didn't want to deal with the shopping and opted to go to the Shanghai Museum of Science and Technology instead. But not me, I was determined to get my shopping done, and I figured as long as I kept my wits about me, I could, at very least, protect myself from obvious scams.

So, we parted ways, with me striking out on my own. I had hardly walked twenty feet before I found a shop selling watches, including pocket watches which caught my eye. I didn't really need a pocket watch, but before I could walk away the vendor produced something even more interesting; a Rolex. No box, no case. Just the watch in a little Ziploc bag with some protective laminate around the watchband. Obviously, I was looking at the real deal, which was confirmed by the 600 rmb asking price. 

Now, I'm no idiot, and I know what a real Rolex is worth, so I asked for a more realistic 150. The vendor, who evidently did not know the value of the very real Rolex he was holding, asked for an astronomical 500, then 400, then 350. I was amazed at how fast the price was dropping, but it seemed to stop there. 350 rmb, about $50, as any American knows, is daylight robbery for an authentic Rolex, so I suggested 200 rmb. Too low; he asked 325. Nah, I wanted it for 200. 300? Nope. 275? How about 250? Sold.

And that is how I bought a Rolex for $5 more than my previous watch, who's most valuable component was probably the battery. (On a side note, when I got back from Shanghai I examined the watch pretty closely, and looked up some pointers on discerning if a Rolex is fake. As far as I can tell, the band is definitely fake, but the watch itself is either an amazing recreation, or it was stolen. I mean, the movement is exactly the way a Rolex is described, and it even has the logo micro-engraved above 6:00.)

It is sitting on more cash than I paid for it.

Next, I spotted a vendor selling traditional Chinese tchotchke and I remembered that I should buy some gifts for my family. This Chinese fan looked nice, and I picked it up to inspect it. Obviously, that meant I was going to buy it, and the vendor told me it was 60 rmb. Not bad, but I wanted it for 20. After some haggling, I got him down to 30, but he wasn't budging. So I told him I would take two for 50 total. He figured that was the best he was going to get out of me, and I got the fans. but I didn't stop there. Next, I went for a set of ceramic chopsticks. 300 rmb. Nah, I figured they would be worth 100. Again the bartering ensued, but halfway though, I realized that I would actually prefer some metal chopsticks, which the guy didn't have. It got kind of awkward, and I think the guy thought I was just giving him a hard time, so eventually I just walked away. He gave it a royal effort to gt me back into his shop, but I wasn't interested anymore.

I was walking along, keeping my eyes peeled for metal chopsticks, when I walked past a really stylish traditional Chinese men's coat. It was a bit gaudy for my taste, but a man approached and asked if I wanted to buy it. I told him it was too flashy, so he produced a much simpler, plain jacket; the kind with a really straight cut, knotted cord instead of buttons, and cuff-less straight sleeves. It came straight out of Ip Man's closet.

I really liked this jacket, just wearing it made me feel like I could one-inch punch a horse. Loving the piece was my first mistake.

800 yuan.

No way. I actually scoffed a bit, and started taking it off, but the man insisted, and asked what I thought it was worth. I was thinking maybe 100, since it wasn't a complicated jacket, and the material didn't feel like anything special. But I said I wanted it for 200, which may have been my second mistake. 

The man said, "Discount, because you are my friend," and offered it at 15 percent off, bringing it to about 600 yuan. At that point I made a bit of a recovery; if he knocked off 15 percent without blinking, perhaps that 800 was one of those 600% mark-ups, and I would be able to get it much cheaper than it seemed. So I said 225. He replied with "because your are American, I give you discount." and brought it closer to 500. Still too high. Next, he showed me how it was reversible; red on one side, black on the other. When I stayed fast at 230, he brought it down again. We went back and forth until I started doubting how much the jacket meant to me. when I tried walking away, he caved a bit, I haggled some more, and eventually got it for 300.

Then I opened my wallet and discovered that was 100 rmb over-budget.

No matter, the friendly vendor volunteered to walk me to the ATM so I could get the cash I needed. Well, that sounded like a great idea; hold on while I use the ATM with this guy watching in some pockey market in Shanghai.

In a bullet time decision, I evaluated my options; using the ATM was not going to happen, I could just drop the purchase altogether, but I actually wanted this jacket and I didn't want to tick the guy off. I could also just grab some more money out of my backpack and pay what I said.

So, I went with the last option and dipped into tomorrow's budget so I could afford the jacket.

And that pretty much meant I was done shopping.

The market was underground, tangential to a subway station, so after putting the jacket in my bag, I surfaced and realized I had no idea where I was. And my phone had about 15 percent.... 14 percent battery. I called Ross to see what the rest of the crew was doing, but the call didn't connect. There was sort of awkward moment at that point:

I was standing in the blinding Shanghai sun, 100 kuai past my budget, completely unsure of where I was and where my friends were, and rapidly losing cell phone battery. And it was starting to occur to me that I probably paid twice what I should have for that jacket.

I think that's an appropriate stopping point. Guess this report on my Shanghai trip is really dragging out longer than I thought it would.

Xiao Go Peng.

你们好！石鹏今天很忙，所以他没有时间写他的上海故事。那，他请求我写公告。

请让我介绍我本人， 我的名字叫小狗朋！我帮石鹏教幼儿园，可是我的汉语不是很好。我的汉语越来越好，但是说实话我觉得石鹏的汉语比我好。他每星期七个小时上课，还有九个小时教课。他常常说汉语。

现在是早上一点。我要是睡不觉，我明天就没有我要的精神。

哦！我差不多忘记附相片：

你好！

P。S。如果我写错了，请告诉我。

Shanghai Noon on the day of Wonder

It's been a bit longer than usual since my last post because I've been preparing for, enjoying and returning from an epic weekend trip to Shanghai. The trip was planned about a month in advance, and we managed to get some great timing on our flights; Saturday, 8:00 AM departure to get there, and Monday 8:00 PM departure on the way back. Next we found a hostel for less than 100rmb a night, that was one metro stop from the heart of Shanghai. And finally, for this trip to China's shopping and food center, I budgeted 1000rmb.

Upon the day of the trip, I could hardly sleep, and only got about 2 hours before my alarm sounded at 4AM. I checked that I had everything I had packed, and then met the others outside the school at 5. A long taxi ride took us the airport, in the calm-ocean-flat outskirts of Shijizhuang. Passage through the airport was as easy as walking with a backpack, and we arrived at the gate with plenty of time. I tried sleeping, but the excitement of travel was too much, and I was restless until it was time to fly.

Tim Hawkins has a sketch about a very short domestic flight. Listen to it if you want to know what the two hours to Shanghai were like; he describes it in better detail than I can. But one thing Hawkins won't mention is the fact that the Chinese are zealous about phones on planes. The rule seems to be "Turn off everything with a screen." I generally appreciate the Chinese and the way they do things, but after learning that "the Chinese do not believe in airplane mode" from one of the attendants, I kind of lost respect for Chinese airlines. I mean, even the FAA isn't greatly concerned with this.

After that interesting flight, we touched down in Shanghai, and we checked in to the hostel before 12. I was amazed by this; I had woken up that morning bleary eyed in Shijiazhuang, and I was in Shanghai, over a thousand kilometers away, ready to explore it before lunch time.

When everyone who was staying at the hostel had checked in, we set out for a staple Shanghai tourist location; The Bund. The Bund is not much more than a bend in the river, but it's covered in tourists because you can get amazing shots of Shanghai, like this:

(David, our resident 'foreign tourist.')

And this;

After doing our tourist thing and getting some photos, we stopped at Subway and then trecked over to the hotel where David was staying. Since he arrived in China after we made our reservations, he had to stay somewhere else.

From there, it was time for our group of eleven to break down into some sub groups so that those who wanted to shop and those who wanted to sight-see could go their own ways.

I departed with Ross, Ruud, Quentin and David to explore Shanghai, with the intention of crossing the Huangpu River into the Pudong district, where the city's most famous skyscrapers pierced the clouds.

It turns out that rivers are a pain to cross if one goes it on foot. Seeing a bridge was north of us, we set out along the Huangpu, only to realize that the bridge was more distant than we thought. Undeterred by this, we continued, hoping to find a ferry or tunnel that we could use instead. After about thirty minutes in the sub-tropical Shanghai sun, we encountered a small coastal park, which we believed had a ferry landing. Instead, we found a cruise ship docked in the park. There was no grand dock, no vendors hawking wears at the base of the gangplank, just a boat parked next to some relaxing trees and flowers. On the other side of this cruise ship dock/nature reserve we found our ferry, which put us on the other side of the river within a few minutes.

That is about when I realized how grand Shanghai's skyline is up close. The Pearl of the Orient is an absolutely alien sight, suspended on great legs, each as big as my apartment. It resembles a spacecraft from the future, stranded in China. I imagine if MIB was set in China, that is exactly what it would turn out to be. The Shanghai tower was even grander, as it swept off the ground with a gentle spiral, like a furled scroll set upon the ground by a giant scholar. And its windows are more translucent than other buildings, affording people on the ground a view into the impossibly high structure. Finally, the Shanghai World Financial Center, with its singularly distinctive bottle opener shape, stood proudly above many of its neighbors.

For a short spell, we walked among these giants, I was agog as we passed below the Pearl. We visited one of the many expensive malls that populated Shanghai, picked up some exclusive foreign beverages, and headed back to the hostel to get changed for dinner. This time it was Ross, not Alex, who had made the reservations at a very high end Mexican restaurant called Maya. After Ross said he didn't plan to eat any Chinese food this weekend I realized he had an interesting point. Shanghai may be my last chance to eat a good variety of western foods, and I may be able to find it in better quality than I could find in the States.

Finding Maya was a bit interesting, as it was situated in a village, inaccessible from the street. But we did find it, after walking into the wrong restaurant and happening upon a private party.

Maya obviously served extremely authentic Mexican cuisine; one could literally smell the quality upon entering the restaurant. The warm scents of spicy dishes permeated the air. And triple digit prices permeated the menu. About when I figured out that this meal would probably cost 300 rmb, half the cash in my wallet at that point, I realized I might not have brought enough cash for the trip, at least not if I wanted to abstain from Chinese cuisine.

After that shock, I was pleased to find that the food warranted the price. My chicken enchilada was superb; warm, just a bit spicy, wonderfully textured, and exactly one serving. It was perhaps the most satisfying meal I'd had in China, and it increased my appreciation for high-end cuisine and Mexican food in general. I wish I could better describe the experience I had as I ate that enchilada, but I feel any words I produced would still fail to capture it.

By the time we returned to the hostel that evening, I couldn't help but wonder at Shanghai's wealth. It had buildings so grand they dwarfed cruise ships, multiple malls that sold Gucci, Rolex, Prada and the like, and numerous restaurants I could guess were at least as good as Maya. What a place, to wonder at the wealth.


I did capture some pictures from this trip, which have been added to this album. Tune in tomorrow to hear more about Shanghai.