Cars have their drivers sitting on the LEFT side of the car. And they drive on the RIGHT side of the road. And best of all… they stay in their clearly-marked lanes – more or less. More so than India anyway.
The trip from airport to hotel was a lot of highway through parts of the city. As far as I could tell there were not many indications other than Chinese characters on the signs (sometimes with small-print English translations, but not always) that I was in a Chinese city. I had expected most buildings to have artistically curved and pointed rooftops and dragons and other designs all over them. Turns out Shanghai is a relatively new city, and more to the point, on the east side of the Huangpu river which divides Shanghai, the area is for the most part completely new development from over the last 15-20 years. Most of the buildings on both sides are fairly modern looking with little influence of traditional Chinese architecture, although there are exceptions of course. Some of the newest builds are very modern and would look right at home in Las Vegas as examples of “build tall and extravagant.”
On our arrival it was pretty clear that smog was a significant problem in the city. While the weather was clear (and was so all week) it was a bit like looking through severe haze or even light fog when trying to view distant sites/buildings. In fact, as we exited the highway and continued through city streets to the hotel, probably one out of every ten people I saw walking or riding bikes wore surgical masks. At the time, I figured that this was likely due to this area having a higher-than-average percentage of germophobes and I begin to wonder where I could get some of these, perhaps with pretty decorative Chinese designs so as to also turn them into Christmas gifts this year once I got home.
Yeah. Like I would ever give up some germ-filtering masks to other people.
Now in India it was often that you’d see something on the road that would surprise you as something you’d never expect. So I was keeping my eyes peeled for what might be unique to Shanghai. Alas, the roads here are full of Fords, Buicks, Audis, BMWs, Mercedes, VWs, Cadillacs and of course motorcycles, scooters, bicycles and ubiquitous taxis. The only odd thing I saw was this and frankly it was from a distance and so I can’t really be sure I saw what I think I saw.
As we get closer to the hotel, I realize that I’m not sure what the payment situation here is like. Do I need to pay the driver? There’s no taxi meter here so I can’t tell if I’m going to be ripped off or not. And even then what is the situation for tipping? I quickly re-check through my phone what Chinese tipping practices are like and the answer I get from multiple sources confirms what I seem to recall in the past: Chinese don’t tip nor expect tips – in general. That “in general” part is of course a pain in my brain but I figure that I’ll just see whether I start getting the expectant stare I got from Eyesh in India and cross that bridge then.
When we get to the hotel, the driver gets out to get my carry-on bags out of the trunk. Still no indication he’s expecting payment. I go around to the back of the car to get the bags from him – my wallet out and ready to do action.
He does not hand my bags to me but instead beacons me to follow him into the hotel. Ok, maybe he’s angling for a bigger tip?
He takes me up to the registration desk. Fortunately these folks speak English quite well, and we go through the check-in process with the cab driver standing right there next to me. He’s NOT staring at me though, so what is he waiting for?
I begin to fear that he wants to take my bags up to my hotel room for me. That just doesn’t seem right much less comfortable to a paranoid first-time China visitor. Perhaps he is part of the Chinese Triad organized crime group and is going to make me pay for my carry-ons? I begin to wonder if maybe he is responsible for my checked luggage being “missing.”
Soon he and the ladies behind the desk begin a dialogue in Mandarin (ok, I don’t know – could be any Chinese dialect) that lasts for about 30 seconds. I’ve no idea what they said. I’m trying to see if there are any words spoken or body language clues that would lead me to suspect that I will soon be visited by a group of “officers” from one of the many, many Chinese crime syndicates.
But then he turns to me, smiles in a non-threatening way, shakes my hand and walks away, leaving me and my bags here to wallow in baffled confusion.
I’m given my room # and a bellman grabs my carry-on to take me to the room. I had requested a room “away from elevators and ice machines” and sure enough, my room is far from them. Very far. Like so far at one point as we’re walking through the halls (turn right here go to the end, turn left here, go to the end, turn left again, go to the end…) the bellman turns to me and says “long walk” and laughs at his English joke.
I don’t care – the room is nice and clean and doesn’t smell at all like it has any problems. It is brightly lit, well appointed, and lacks the stains, dust, mildew, rattles and overall oppressive Stephen King-ish aura that the Moldy Orchid offered as standard fare.
The bellman puts the baggage down and graciously leaves without so much as an uncomfortable stare or other sign that he expects any sort of reward for doing his duty.
At which point I immediately sit down and take off my shoes and socks. My feet are sporting some pretty amazing blisters, even on areas covered by healthy callouses. Lesson is: don’t wear new un-broken-in shoes for 24 hours straight while also doing a mad dash that is part run, part walk through airport terminals and gates. I look at these blisters, only one of which has opened up (and another of which has turned into a blood blister – not sure what to do about that ugly sucker) and recall the message the universe sent me. “Hahahaha…”
Here I am, having gone where no Scott has gone before, treading new and mysterious lands with unknown sanitary standards with open sores into which the as-yet-undiscovered life which is NOT my mission to discover can now bypass my previously unscathed epidermal defenses and go straight into my antibiotic and vaccine-strengthened bloodstream.
Who will win this epic struggle for dominance? I dare to dream that my temporary super-boost to immunity will prevail. What else can I do?
The rest of Saturday and Sunday is a mix of sleeping, working and doing whatever I can to keep clean and healthy. I’ve a long week ahead of me that I don’t want spoiled by lack of rest or viral incursion.
As such, I’m gratified that the restaurant here at the hotel has a menu (inconveniently placed on thick, heavy android-based tablet devices) that has a convenient “western” mode for the likes of me. It will be only a couple of days before the restaurant staff recognize me and pre-configure the menu to “western” before handing it to me.
And what does the “western” mode offer? There are certainly choices which would fall outside the zone of safety and sanity which I could choose, but the pictures for each are more than adequate to dissuade me from adventuring down such paths.
My first night I do the burger. It’s not your average run of the mill burger, so I did push the comfort zone a bit. It has a fried egg on it as well.
Other choices that will fill my week: steak, pork, duck breast, the “dark vader” burger which is not the same as night #1. I do venture out into vegetable land with a Caesar salad though, and of course the burgers come with lettuce and tomato which I consume as well. So it’s not all unhealthy. More or less.
The trip from airport to hotel was a lot of highway through parts of the city. As far as I could tell there were not many indications other than Chinese characters on the signs (sometimes with small-print English translations, but not always) that I was in a Chinese city. I had expected most buildings to have artistically curved and pointed rooftops and dragons and other designs all over them. Turns out Shanghai is a relatively new city, and more to the point, on the east side of the Huangpu river which divides Shanghai, the area is for the most part completely new development from over the last 15-20 years. Most of the buildings on both sides are fairly modern looking with little influence of traditional Chinese architecture, although there are exceptions of course. Some of the newest builds are very modern and would look right at home in Las Vegas as examples of “build tall and extravagant.”
On our arrival it was pretty clear that smog was a significant problem in the city. While the weather was clear (and was so all week) it was a bit like looking through severe haze or even light fog when trying to view distant sites/buildings. In fact, as we exited the highway and continued through city streets to the hotel, probably one out of every ten people I saw walking or riding bikes wore surgical masks. At the time, I figured that this was likely due to this area having a higher-than-average percentage of germophobes and I begin to wonder where I could get some of these, perhaps with pretty decorative Chinese designs so as to also turn them into Christmas gifts this year once I got home.
Yeah. Like I would ever give up some germ-filtering masks to other people.
Now in India it was often that you’d see something on the road that would surprise you as something you’d never expect. So I was keeping my eyes peeled for what might be unique to Shanghai. Alas, the roads here are full of Fords, Buicks, Audis, BMWs, Mercedes, VWs, Cadillacs and of course motorcycles, scooters, bicycles and ubiquitous taxis. The only odd thing I saw was this and frankly it was from a distance and so I can’t really be sure I saw what I think I saw.
As we get closer to the hotel, I realize that I’m not sure what the payment situation here is like. Do I need to pay the driver? There’s no taxi meter here so I can’t tell if I’m going to be ripped off or not. And even then what is the situation for tipping? I quickly re-check through my phone what Chinese tipping practices are like and the answer I get from multiple sources confirms what I seem to recall in the past: Chinese don’t tip nor expect tips – in general. That “in general” part is of course a pain in my brain but I figure that I’ll just see whether I start getting the expectant stare I got from Eyesh in India and cross that bridge then.
When we get to the hotel, the driver gets out to get my carry-on bags out of the trunk. Still no indication he’s expecting payment. I go around to the back of the car to get the bags from him – my wallet out and ready to do action.
He does not hand my bags to me but instead beacons me to follow him into the hotel. Ok, maybe he’s angling for a bigger tip?
He takes me up to the registration desk. Fortunately these folks speak English quite well, and we go through the check-in process with the cab driver standing right there next to me. He’s NOT staring at me though, so what is he waiting for?
I begin to fear that he wants to take my bags up to my hotel room for me. That just doesn’t seem right much less comfortable to a paranoid first-time China visitor. Perhaps he is part of the Chinese Triad organized crime group and is going to make me pay for my carry-ons? I begin to wonder if maybe he is responsible for my checked luggage being “missing.”
Soon he and the ladies behind the desk begin a dialogue in Mandarin (ok, I don’t know – could be any Chinese dialect) that lasts for about 30 seconds. I’ve no idea what they said. I’m trying to see if there are any words spoken or body language clues that would lead me to suspect that I will soon be visited by a group of “officers” from one of the many, many Chinese crime syndicates.
But then he turns to me, smiles in a non-threatening way, shakes my hand and walks away, leaving me and my bags here to wallow in baffled confusion.
I’m given my room # and a bellman grabs my carry-on to take me to the room. I had requested a room “away from elevators and ice machines” and sure enough, my room is far from them. Very far. Like so far at one point as we’re walking through the halls (turn right here go to the end, turn left here, go to the end, turn left again, go to the end…) the bellman turns to me and says “long walk” and laughs at his English joke.
I don’t care – the room is nice and clean and doesn’t smell at all like it has any problems. It is brightly lit, well appointed, and lacks the stains, dust, mildew, rattles and overall oppressive Stephen King-ish aura that the Moldy Orchid offered as standard fare.
The bellman puts the baggage down and graciously leaves without so much as an uncomfortable stare or other sign that he expects any sort of reward for doing his duty.
At which point I immediately sit down and take off my shoes and socks. My feet are sporting some pretty amazing blisters, even on areas covered by healthy callouses. Lesson is: don’t wear new un-broken-in shoes for 24 hours straight while also doing a mad dash that is part run, part walk through airport terminals and gates. I look at these blisters, only one of which has opened up (and another of which has turned into a blood blister – not sure what to do about that ugly sucker) and recall the message the universe sent me. “Hahahaha…”
Here I am, having gone where no Scott has gone before, treading new and mysterious lands with unknown sanitary standards with open sores into which the as-yet-undiscovered life which is NOT my mission to discover can now bypass my previously unscathed epidermal defenses and go straight into my antibiotic and vaccine-strengthened bloodstream.
Who will win this epic struggle for dominance? I dare to dream that my temporary super-boost to immunity will prevail. What else can I do?
The rest of Saturday and Sunday is a mix of sleeping, working and doing whatever I can to keep clean and healthy. I’ve a long week ahead of me that I don’t want spoiled by lack of rest or viral incursion.
As such, I’m gratified that the restaurant here at the hotel has a menu (inconveniently placed on thick, heavy android-based tablet devices) that has a convenient “western” mode for the likes of me. It will be only a couple of days before the restaurant staff recognize me and pre-configure the menu to “western” before handing it to me.
And what does the “western” mode offer? There are certainly choices which would fall outside the zone of safety and sanity which I could choose, but the pictures for each are more than adequate to dissuade me from adventuring down such paths.
 |
| Incidentally, I think Yoda was also one of the selections in that menu. |
Other choices that will fill my week: steak, pork, duck breast, the “dark vader” burger which is not the same as night #1. I do venture out into vegetable land with a Caesar salad though, and of course the burgers come with lettuce and tomato which I consume as well. So it’s not all unhealthy. More or less.
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