Out of the subway into Shanghai

View from the street outside Shanghai subway station.

Equipped with a ridiculous handlebar mustache I set out on four hours sleep and a touch of the special shine for the airport at 5:30 for a 7:30 flight. The Beijing airport was hell, as are all airports. It's a hassle akin to being rats in a maze being funneled toward the cheese, which unfortunately was my seat in coach...or economy class as they so kindly renamed it.

I slept the entire flight, missed the meal and landed in Shanghai ready to take on the new city. I can't say I missed the meal exactly. Airplane food is one area, where no matter how many advancements in technology have been reached, that is always atrocious.

Shanghai is anything but. As soon as I filtered out of the subway into the relatively inactive street, I knew I was in a special city. The air was cleaner than Beijing and the sky was clear blue. Guillermo and I sauntered to our hostel down an alley-like sidestreet. We watched the local hole-in-the-wall eateries serving various treats from dumplings to moon cakes to fried chicken and vegetables.

The hostel itself, Blue Mountain Youth Hostel, seemed pretty decent. I'm not usually one for communal living but the showers were clean and separated from one another so it was of little concern. The room (and the hostel itself), on the sixth floor of twenty-eight, was tiny with four bunk beds. Eight people at a time stayed, including an American psychotherapist and Chinese tourists who work together at an automotive firm...I think.

The cafe served pizza and mellow music...some good like Iron and Wine; some bad like Jack Johnson. It was a nice, relaxed little cafe with various foodstuffs. Pizza, muesli, Snickers bars, coffee, beer, eggs, mystery meat and toast, among other things. If you buy outside beer, they'll pop the top at the bar but you must promptly abscond to the patio.

Guillermo and I walked the streets. It reminded me of Las Vegas with all the colours (moreso when the sun went down) and abrasive shills on the street forcing pamphlets in my face. One day, as we walked, I saw a fairly well dressed man walking toward some people he obviously knew as I was walking by. I was close enough, apparently, for him to whisper in my ear.

"Lady massage," he said quietly before turning and continuing his conversation with his acquaintances.

Knock-off watches can be acquired every few feet as you pass one of the many KFCs.

Pudong. The Pearl is that big one on the left with spheres at various levels.

We hit up the Bund, a beautiful area overlooking the water. Across to the other side are large buildings, none identical, including the Pearl. It's all unique and yet also vaguely familiar. Shanghai has an immediate impact on the senses somehow blending energy and relaxation into one mega-vacation-smoothie. In Beijing there is a constant swath of honking from the traffic; not so in Shanghai. The honks make some sense, where in Beijing they're redundant chest pounding. Traffic cops were efficient, maybe because it was the national holiday, and actually helped pedestrians. It wasn't a constant game of Frogger.



More to come...including my review of the movie Looper, which was partially shot in Shanghai.

Ridiculous mustache...check!