The Return to Shanghai

So I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue my blog from my last time in Shanghai, but within moments of arriving I realized why I did it in the first place. China generates way too many stories not to write down.

The journey went like this: Woke up at 3:45am, took of from La Guardia at 8:00am after a half hour delay, fell asleep. Woke up at Chicago O’Hare, met Carl at the gate, waited for our plane to arrive, and took off after another 3 hours delay. Sat in a chair for seven hours, fell asleep somewhere over the North Pole, and woke up at Pu Dong international airport another six hours later, where the pilot informs us that the outside temperature is 37°C, 99°F. He didn’t mention the 100% humidity, which I discovered immediately as I stepped off the plane.

Shanghai is split into two halves by the Huangpu river, Pu Dong (poo-dong, east) and Pu Xi (poo-shee, west). Pu Xi is where the city originally grew, with nothing but farmland across the river in Pu Dong. The European countries that claimed spheres of influence in Chinese cities in the days of imperialism built their houses, businesses, and white-only polo clubs here, in Pu Xi. So in an effort to make the most impressive portion of the city theirs again, the Chinese created the Pu Dong development zone, which, when I was here two years ago, contained an eighth of all of the world’s construction cranes. When you see a picture of the Shanghai skyline, it is always of Pu Dong, with the Pearl tower, the Jin Mao tower, and another, taller than the rest, that wasn’t there last time. Pu Dong international airport, designed to be the largest hub in all of Asia, is just one of the monstrous projects. It still feels like any other airport though.

After going through immigration and getting our luggage, Carl and I walked through the corral at the exit, where hundreds of Chinese drivers stand with signs for the people they are to pick up. Outside the airport, the heat and humidity is suffocating. Immediately a Chinese man spotted us and asked “Taxi? Follow me.” As we started off behind him, I thought for a moment perhaps we should negotiate a price first, but Carl (it’s all his fault) insisted that it would be a metered cab. After following a the man through parking garages and up a stairwell that was 20° hotter than the air outside and smelled like urine (definitely on my list of top ten “worst places to spend more than 30 seconds”), we got to the car. It was nice, with leather seats, air conditioning, and a driver already waiting inside. We loaded up our luggage and got in. Now that we had given up almost all leverage in negotiating a price, it was clear that we must. They demanded 700 yuan, and we were only able to talk them down to 500 for a ride that would cost around 150 at the most on a meter. We both knew better than this, we say, but I suppose we were just rusty. Oh well, lesson learned. It was still only around $60 for an hour’s ride all the way from the airport in Pu Dong to Fudan in Pu Xi, and the car had seat belts.

When we arrived at the foreign students’ dorm, we went to the registration desk and showed our admission notices. After looking through several rather unorganized lists of names, none of which included either of us, we were told that they had no rooms for us until late August. Strike one. A disappointing blow, but nothing we weren’t mentally prepared for; this is China, and this is the way things work. We have a number to call about housing, but it was after business hours, so we admitted defeat for the time being and took a cab (metered this time, only 11 yuan) to the hotel. After dumping our luggage, changing out of sweat-soaked clothes, and turning on the air conditioner full-blast, we left to attempt some of the first-day errands we had planned. Bicycles were first on the list. Once we had bicycles, the other errands would be easier. So we walked to back over to the area by the dorm, with which we are both familiar, and to the bike shop. Closed. Strike two. Oh well, that will have to wait until tomorrow. From there, we walked to the electronics store to look at cell phones. Also closed. Strike three.

So it was time for dinner. Muslim noodles; two heaping, steaming plates for 12 yuan ($1.50). From there we walked back toward the hotel, and considered finding an internet café. But after having traveled several miles on foot for no apparent reason, we decided to get foot massages instead (20 yuan for 45 minutes). Back at the hotel we put in a DVD Carl bought during our wanderings (The 300, not on sale in the States for a few days yet) and much to my surprise, I passed out almost immediately. I woke up, fully clothed and confused, just before 4am and found that Carl was wide awake as well. It’s now about 6am and we just finished watching the movie, for real this time. Check out time is noon, so we have that long to figure out where we are going to live before we have to worry about moving luggage again. But first we’ll attempt breakfast.