We woke up late today (suffering slightly for the hotpot we'd consumed the evening before) and didn't get out the door until 10:30. I dressed up again today, opting for the green dress so as to be cool yet formal.
We walked to the Wutaishan wangba (internet cafe) first, so as to contact a few people and see how many responses we'd garnered. We had 101 responses when we checked, exactly 11 more than we'd had the day before! So distributing the surveys was worthwhile. I didn't like to think of it as 11 surveys for 399 flyers as much as 11 surveys for 40 minutes work.
Then we decided to walk to the copy shop, which was rather far away as we hadn't planned ahead and gone to the closer of the two locations. So on the way, we stopped on Shanghai Lu and had lunch at the Slow Life Cafe, the Mexican place that Drew, Mason and I used to hang out in every Thursday night.
I had a cheese quesadilla, which was greasy but didn't contain any fresh vegetables and Andy ordered the Tacos. We enjoyed the music, which was a live album of the Eagles, and watched the traffic roll by on Shanghai Road. Andy ordered a Tequilla Sunrise, even though it was 11:55 and technically he was drinking alone. We both pretended it wasn't to loosen him up to the idea of distributing a thousand more of the surveys.
We walked to the copy shop and had 250 copies made and chopped for less than $5. It was boiling hot at this point, around 1:00, so we grabbed a naicha (milktea) and walked to the subway.
We arrived at Xinjiekou at 1:45 and began distribution at 1:50. 40 minutes later, we had handed out 500 copies and we retreated to relax a little and cool off.
We had been told by a nice young man in a white business shirt and a nametag to stand at the top of the escalator instead of the bottom, which had the benefit of being public property, but the real cost of being in the sun and far from any trace of airconditioning. Still, it was gratifying to have a small run-in with an authority and still be able to distribute.
Our break was a trip to Watson's (the British pharmacy) where I bought three of my favorite lipglosses, and a coffee and cake at Pizza Hut. Pizza Hut is exceedingly strange and nice in China. It offers afternoon set teas, with a coffee or a tea and a light snack or dessert, all for less than a coffee at Starbucks. I got the iced coffee, which was literally black coffee with ice, and a chocolate cake. Andy got regular coffee and tiramisu.
I must have looked a little dismayed at the taste of my coffee, because the waitress promptly returned with a small packet. It looked like a dairy creamer container, with a clear cup and a pull-off, brightly colored seal, but the liquid inside was clear and highly viscous. "Sucrose," the lid proclaimed.
I'll admit, I took a photo of it.
We resumed distributing flyers in the heat. It was again around 4 PM, and the sunlight was shining directly into our subject's eyes, which made them a little less likely to grasp a flyer. I was also dissapointed with how few of the painfully thin girls took a flyer. It seemed like they were less likely to take one than their healthier counterparts.
At about 4:15 or 4:30, we grabbed a cab home and relaxed, both of us being somewhat poleaxed. Though we'd only clocked in about an hour and a half's work, it was exceedingly tiring.
We relaxed for a little and then sought dinner, only going as far as our hotel's restaurant. Afterwards, we stopped by our room and then went out to the wang ba, where we are now. I added a few more entries, and we'll be headed home to bed soon.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Day 16
Today was about making the flyer. Beyond that, not much was accomplished. I spent several hours of the morning in the internet cafe, and a few hours in the evening as well.
The other major thing that we accomplished was some necessary birthday shopping. Andy has a really great gift for Rachel now, thanks to my perserverence and Andy's willingness to shop if he really has to, if it's really important, and if he has a companion. I picked up some Chanel and Tiffany earrings and a robot necklace for $30, a little steep, but I think worth it.
In the evening, we hurried from the Bamboo restaurant to the nearest wang ba so that I could call Nick. It was a fun conversation, really, and it makes me wish that there could be more similar conversations. There won't be, though. He wants to remain friends, but we'll both be so busy in seperate areas of the school that we won't see each other unless we both really make the effort--we won't.
The other major thing that we accomplished was some necessary birthday shopping. Andy has a really great gift for Rachel now, thanks to my perserverence and Andy's willingness to shop if he really has to, if it's really important, and if he has a companion. I picked up some Chanel and Tiffany earrings and a robot necklace for $30, a little steep, but I think worth it.
In the evening, we hurried from the Bamboo restaurant to the nearest wang ba so that I could call Nick. It was a fun conversation, really, and it makes me wish that there could be more similar conversations. There won't be, though. He wants to remain friends, but we'll both be so busy in seperate areas of the school that we won't see each other unless we both really make the effort--we won't.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Day 15
Today was a slightly crazy day. I actually didn't accomplish too much, but not nothing.
Andy had his meeting with the businessmen today, and the original plan was for me to take the day to do some souvenir and dress shopping. But we received a text message from Berry asking us to meet him at two PM, when Andy would be unavailable, so I went instead.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before Andy could go to the meeting, he had to buy a shirt. You see, Andy possesses one dress outfit: a pair of khaki pants, a black belt and shoes, a blue jacket and a green shirt. He pairs this either with a blue flowered batik tie, which matches the jacket, or a silver and pink tie (which really doesn't match anything).
The last time he met with his business contacts, he wore this exact outfit, and was worried that it wouldn't "do" to be seen in the ensemble. After all, they might think he possessed only one suit.
So we went emergency shopping. I took Andy to the only department store whose name I can pronounce in Chinese: Jinying, Golden Eagle. Unfortunately, it is also the most expensive shopping mall in Nanjing. We looked carefully for a shirt without a Hugo Boss or Lacoste tag, but one that still had long sleeves, to no avail. It wasn't until we'd given up entirely and begun to look at backpacks and sunglasses in the knock-off mall next door that we came across an appropriate store.
West Germany Made! The store sign proclaimed. It carried shirts by Polo and Paul Smith of "export quality," which means that they are likely genuine shirts, just produced in the hours that the factory reports to the company that is it closed for production, so that the additional goods may be sold for a tidy profit on the domestic market.
Andy bought a white shirt with discreet blue and green stripes (I had forgotten his tie was flowered). It was very tasteful and professional with the slight exception of the Polo logo, which for some reason, was orange.
We returned home via the subway with very little time to spare, so we were forced to grab a quick lunch at McDonald's. It is always uncomfortable to visit MaiDanLao because the Chinese look at you with a knowing glance ("They can't stay away, those Americans") and the other Americans, of which there are always several, refuse to meet your gaze in a shameful manner.
After lunch, I met with Pingping and Berry as they had requested at the main gates of Nanda. I was running a little late (due to playing too much Civ IV) and texted ahead to let them know that I would be five minutes late. I love my cell phone; it's so convenient.
When I met up with them, Pingping suggested that we go to Skyway's as she had just gotten up and needed something to eat. Berry was unfamiliar with the place and Pingping told him that he should get to know it--that it was a place that foreigners liked. I certainly like it, and enjoyed the chance to get back into the airconditioning and grab a slice of cheesecake and a ting of Diet Coke.
The cheesecake was slightly dissapointing, being more cheese than cake, but the cherry topping was good and I ate it off the top as we talked. Pingping had a lot to say, as usual, and Berry listened in as we began girltalk in earnest.
I told Pingping that Nick had broken up with me. She was appropriately sympathetic and called him a jackass for me, which I liked. She then told me a about some of her past boyfriends, really, the most tragic one and I listened, intent.
We sat in this manner for several hours before Andy showed up. I had told Pingping where he was and what he was doing, and she said, "Oh, we have a name for this: the Prince's visit." And she laughed. I was eager to see what kind of car he pulled up in, but alas, Andy walked the last half block, so Pingping, Berry and I never got to see. Oh well!
The embarassing part of our tete a tete was that I was very, very sick. My nose was running faster than I think it ever has before, and I used all the tissue packets that I had brought with me (four), started in on Berry's supply, and stolen Pingping's napkin. My nose was bright red with all the wiping, and my eyes were red with unshed tears. I probably looked horrible.
Once Andy joined in, we were still there for more than an hour, bringing my total up to well beyond my limit. I was tired of sitting, despite the excellent company, and so when we parted, I suggested taking the slight walk to Laodifang (That Old Place) for dinner. Andy was up for it, and we got Gongbao Jiding (Kung Pao Chicken) and Maladoufu (Hot and Spicy Tofu).
It wasn't an incredibly productive day, though Berry did give us an additional seven responses. Oh well, if I'm feeling any better tomorrow
Andy had his meeting with the businessmen today, and the original plan was for me to take the day to do some souvenir and dress shopping. But we received a text message from Berry asking us to meet him at two PM, when Andy would be unavailable, so I went instead.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before Andy could go to the meeting, he had to buy a shirt. You see, Andy possesses one dress outfit: a pair of khaki pants, a black belt and shoes, a blue jacket and a green shirt. He pairs this either with a blue flowered batik tie, which matches the jacket, or a silver and pink tie (which really doesn't match anything).
The last time he met with his business contacts, he wore this exact outfit, and was worried that it wouldn't "do" to be seen in the ensemble. After all, they might think he possessed only one suit.
So we went emergency shopping. I took Andy to the only department store whose name I can pronounce in Chinese: Jinying, Golden Eagle. Unfortunately, it is also the most expensive shopping mall in Nanjing. We looked carefully for a shirt without a Hugo Boss or Lacoste tag, but one that still had long sleeves, to no avail. It wasn't until we'd given up entirely and begun to look at backpacks and sunglasses in the knock-off mall next door that we came across an appropriate store.
West Germany Made! The store sign proclaimed. It carried shirts by Polo and Paul Smith of "export quality," which means that they are likely genuine shirts, just produced in the hours that the factory reports to the company that is it closed for production, so that the additional goods may be sold for a tidy profit on the domestic market.
Andy bought a white shirt with discreet blue and green stripes (I had forgotten his tie was flowered). It was very tasteful and professional with the slight exception of the Polo logo, which for some reason, was orange.
We returned home via the subway with very little time to spare, so we were forced to grab a quick lunch at McDonald's. It is always uncomfortable to visit MaiDanLao because the Chinese look at you with a knowing glance ("They can't stay away, those Americans") and the other Americans, of which there are always several, refuse to meet your gaze in a shameful manner.
After lunch, I met with Pingping and Berry as they had requested at the main gates of Nanda. I was running a little late (due to playing too much Civ IV) and texted ahead to let them know that I would be five minutes late. I love my cell phone; it's so convenient.
When I met up with them, Pingping suggested that we go to Skyway's as she had just gotten up and needed something to eat. Berry was unfamiliar with the place and Pingping told him that he should get to know it--that it was a place that foreigners liked. I certainly like it, and enjoyed the chance to get back into the airconditioning and grab a slice of cheesecake and a ting of Diet Coke.
The cheesecake was slightly dissapointing, being more cheese than cake, but the cherry topping was good and I ate it off the top as we talked. Pingping had a lot to say, as usual, and Berry listened in as we began girltalk in earnest.
I told Pingping that Nick had broken up with me. She was appropriately sympathetic and called him a jackass for me, which I liked. She then told me a about some of her past boyfriends, really, the most tragic one and I listened, intent.
We sat in this manner for several hours before Andy showed up. I had told Pingping where he was and what he was doing, and she said, "Oh, we have a name for this: the Prince's visit." And she laughed. I was eager to see what kind of car he pulled up in, but alas, Andy walked the last half block, so Pingping, Berry and I never got to see. Oh well!
The embarassing part of our tete a tete was that I was very, very sick. My nose was running faster than I think it ever has before, and I used all the tissue packets that I had brought with me (four), started in on Berry's supply, and stolen Pingping's napkin. My nose was bright red with all the wiping, and my eyes were red with unshed tears. I probably looked horrible.
Once Andy joined in, we were still there for more than an hour, bringing my total up to well beyond my limit. I was tired of sitting, despite the excellent company, and so when we parted, I suggested taking the slight walk to Laodifang (That Old Place) for dinner. Andy was up for it, and we got Gongbao Jiding (Kung Pao Chicken) and Maladoufu (Hot and Spicy Tofu).
It wasn't an incredibly productive day, though Berry did give us an additional seven responses. Oh well, if I'm feeling any better tomorrow
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Day 14
I woke up groggily at 10 AM today, after a night of wonderful carousing.
Which, in Chris-speak means 6 hours of singing KTV, and loads of goat meat at a hotpot place before-hand. I do not live the most wild of lives.
Still, I was strongly feeling the previous night's activities, which included four Korean-made cigarettes, smoked in quick succession. So my vocal chords were in no state to communicate for several hours after I woke up. I also seem to have contracted the beginnings of a sinus infection, and must carefully medicate so it doesn't worsen.
We recieved a text message from Mr. Jiang at 10 AM, asking us to bring a copy of the survey with us when we met him for dinner that evening. To me, it seemed an innocent enough request. To Andy, it was a government official requesting proof of our law-breaking activities.
I decided to play along with Andy's paranoia, because, well, why not? China really isn't a country whose prisons seem particularly inviting. So, before we did anything else that day, I mailed off every filled-out copy, in case our room was searched, or something.
I didn't really know where to send it, so I addressed it to myself, care of Nick at the Lamda Chi house. I came to regret that about two hours later, when I checked my e-mail and discovered that he had broken-up with me, via e-mail, sometime while I was sleeping.
I would just like to state, for future generations, that breaking up over e-mail, especially while one party is in a foreign country for a mere 21 days, is low. Very low. There is so little closure in this for me. I don't get any objections, I don't get to make passionate in-the-moment declarations of frustration/rage/hatred that I would regret later, I don't even get to cry really, because who cries over an e-mail break-up? At that point, really, one has to say to oneself, good riddence. I was accidently dating someone who thinks an e-mail break-up is in good taste.
The only measure of comfort that was allowed to me was the appropriately electronic de-friending of him on Facebook. Ha! Take that, electronic offender! You have been e-dissed!
Well, that concluded a mere twenty minutes before I was to have dinner with Mr. Jiang and his daughter, so I collected myself and gathered up my computer cord, and together, Andy and I headed to Swede and Kraut.
Swede and Kraut is arguably the best authentic Western restaurant in Nanjing. It was started by a Swede and a Kraut, hence its name. The menu mainly features authentic German dishes, dishes that my Grandma would approve of, dishes to put meat on your bones. They are also dishes that are outrageously expensive and generally put Chinese people off.
Mr. Jiang ordered pizza, a relatively safe choice, and Ann chose spaghetti, which to her seemed as Chinese as possible. She was dismayed to learn, however, that the restaurant had no chopsticks, so she spent the evening poking the bolognaise sauce off the top of her noodles clumsily with a fork. Mr. Jiang fared no better, as he confessed that he didn't even like pizza. He attempted to eat his meal with a knife and fork, though the crust proved too tough for his blunt knife, so he was forced to fold the pizza over itself and stab it with a fork in order to eat it.
As we had just met the two of them, we were uncomfortably unable to come to their aid. Instead, we resolved next time to meet at a Chinese resturant, one that would have chopsticks.
Overall, it was a wonderful evening, and just what I needed to take my mind off of being unceremoniously dumped. Mr. Jiang told us a little about his business and we discussed Ann's schooling in relation to our own, American experiences.
I am looking forward to meeting with them again, next time under more auspicious circumstances.
Which, in Chris-speak means 6 hours of singing KTV, and loads of goat meat at a hotpot place before-hand. I do not live the most wild of lives.
Still, I was strongly feeling the previous night's activities, which included four Korean-made cigarettes, smoked in quick succession. So my vocal chords were in no state to communicate for several hours after I woke up. I also seem to have contracted the beginnings of a sinus infection, and must carefully medicate so it doesn't worsen.
We recieved a text message from Mr. Jiang at 10 AM, asking us to bring a copy of the survey with us when we met him for dinner that evening. To me, it seemed an innocent enough request. To Andy, it was a government official requesting proof of our law-breaking activities.
I decided to play along with Andy's paranoia, because, well, why not? China really isn't a country whose prisons seem particularly inviting. So, before we did anything else that day, I mailed off every filled-out copy, in case our room was searched, or something.
I didn't really know where to send it, so I addressed it to myself, care of Nick at the Lamda Chi house. I came to regret that about two hours later, when I checked my e-mail and discovered that he had broken-up with me, via e-mail, sometime while I was sleeping.
I would just like to state, for future generations, that breaking up over e-mail, especially while one party is in a foreign country for a mere 21 days, is low. Very low. There is so little closure in this for me. I don't get any objections, I don't get to make passionate in-the-moment declarations of frustration/rage/hatred that I would regret later, I don't even get to cry really, because who cries over an e-mail break-up? At that point, really, one has to say to oneself, good riddence. I was accidently dating someone who thinks an e-mail break-up is in good taste.
The only measure of comfort that was allowed to me was the appropriately electronic de-friending of him on Facebook. Ha! Take that, electronic offender! You have been e-dissed!
Well, that concluded a mere twenty minutes before I was to have dinner with Mr. Jiang and his daughter, so I collected myself and gathered up my computer cord, and together, Andy and I headed to Swede and Kraut.
Swede and Kraut is arguably the best authentic Western restaurant in Nanjing. It was started by a Swede and a Kraut, hence its name. The menu mainly features authentic German dishes, dishes that my Grandma would approve of, dishes to put meat on your bones. They are also dishes that are outrageously expensive and generally put Chinese people off.
Mr. Jiang ordered pizza, a relatively safe choice, and Ann chose spaghetti, which to her seemed as Chinese as possible. She was dismayed to learn, however, that the restaurant had no chopsticks, so she spent the evening poking the bolognaise sauce off the top of her noodles clumsily with a fork. Mr. Jiang fared no better, as he confessed that he didn't even like pizza. He attempted to eat his meal with a knife and fork, though the crust proved too tough for his blunt knife, so he was forced to fold the pizza over itself and stab it with a fork in order to eat it.
As we had just met the two of them, we were uncomfortably unable to come to their aid. Instead, we resolved next time to meet at a Chinese resturant, one that would have chopsticks.
Overall, it was a wonderful evening, and just what I needed to take my mind off of being unceremoniously dumped. Mr. Jiang told us a little about his business and we discussed Ann's schooling in relation to our own, American experiences.
I am looking forward to meeting with them again, next time under more auspicious circumstances.
Day 14
Well, the unexpected happened. Nick broke up with me.
It really feels out of the blue. That's pretty much all it feels, because it really hasn't hit me yet.
On another note, I haven't done much today. Not because of the News, but because I spent last night carousing with Andy, eating hotpot, smoking cigarettes, drinking vodka, and singing karaoke.
Naturally, that does not add up to a pleasant morning-after tummy. I la dudzed about four or five times, took a shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed and then got back in bed.
It was just that awful.
Hahaha.
China is awesome.
It really feels out of the blue. That's pretty much all it feels, because it really hasn't hit me yet.
On another note, I haven't done much today. Not because of the News, but because I spent last night carousing with Andy, eating hotpot, smoking cigarettes, drinking vodka, and singing karaoke.
Naturally, that does not add up to a pleasant morning-after tummy. I la dudzed about four or five times, took a shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed and then got back in bed.
It was just that awful.
Hahaha.
China is awesome.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Day 13
I find myself discouraged today.
It struck me this morning that the three respondents we have that clearly have disordered eating behavior will likely never receive help.
I'm not sure how best to describe the feeling that overcame me with this realization, but it is awfully close to guilt.
While I am saddened to discover each instance of a person with a problem, it is hard to ignore that it is one set of data contributing to my hypothesis. And one more person who I am not helping.
I've discussed this with Andy, and he's right: I am not qualified to help. I have no training as a health or medical professional, and my knowledge of eating disorders is minimal, at best. Really, I am an eating disorder aficionado, if there is such a macabre thing.
Thinking on this matter, of this line of thought makes me want to cry. What can I do?
Andy was the first to suggest a public education program as part of my Fullbright application, but now I have latched onto the idea like a lifeline. Maybe in the future I can return and help, provide some assistance.
But what can I do to learn about preventing and helping cases of anorexia, bulimia, compulsive eating, and body dysmorphic disorder? I wonder if I could volunteer at a clinic, become an apprentice of sorts? Will reading and theoretical studies be enough? I don't think so. If I do get the Fullbright, I have only a year to prepare. Can that be enough?
I wish that I could go into some of the details of the heart-rending write-ins I've had from certain respondents, but Andy assures me that I cannot for confidentiality reasons. I just thought that it was important to mention that the quality of survey is much higher with written responses than with computer-garnered ones.
For instance, only 80% of computer responses are completed while nearly 100% of the paper copies are complete. But write-ins may be the most compelling reason to do them by hand.
It struck me this morning that the three respondents we have that clearly have disordered eating behavior will likely never receive help.
I'm not sure how best to describe the feeling that overcame me with this realization, but it is awfully close to guilt.
While I am saddened to discover each instance of a person with a problem, it is hard to ignore that it is one set of data contributing to my hypothesis. And one more person who I am not helping.
I've discussed this with Andy, and he's right: I am not qualified to help. I have no training as a health or medical professional, and my knowledge of eating disorders is minimal, at best. Really, I am an eating disorder aficionado, if there is such a macabre thing.
Thinking on this matter, of this line of thought makes me want to cry. What can I do?
Andy was the first to suggest a public education program as part of my Fullbright application, but now I have latched onto the idea like a lifeline. Maybe in the future I can return and help, provide some assistance.
But what can I do to learn about preventing and helping cases of anorexia, bulimia, compulsive eating, and body dysmorphic disorder? I wonder if I could volunteer at a clinic, become an apprentice of sorts? Will reading and theoretical studies be enough? I don't think so. If I do get the Fullbright, I have only a year to prepare. Can that be enough?
I wish that I could go into some of the details of the heart-rending write-ins I've had from certain respondents, but Andy assures me that I cannot for confidentiality reasons. I just thought that it was important to mention that the quality of survey is much higher with written responses than with computer-garnered ones.
For instance, only 80% of computer responses are completed while nearly 100% of the paper copies are complete. But write-ins may be the most compelling reason to do them by hand.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Day 6 (retroactive)
Our train left for Shanghai at 12:05, which wouldn't have given us much time to run around the city and prepare for our journey if we hadn't woken at 6:30 AM. We arrived at the train station with more than a half an hour to spare, but we were slightly dismayed to not be able to trade seats so we could sit next to each other.
I spent most of the train ride listening to Beach Boy songs on my iPod, while Andy tried to sleep, a car away. The train is exceedingly pleasant as the "dong" trains have begun to run between Nanjing and Shanghai on an hourly basis. These trains are electric, and run at speeds as high as 250 km per hour (we think-- we were watching the meter pretty closely, and that's the highest we saw it get). The seats are comfortable and reversable, so you're always facing forward.
Our train arrived in Shanghai a mere two hours later, even with three stops. Still, we had to run to check into our hostel and go to the bank before we met with Emma at 5:30. We did have an excellent experience using the Subway, which was very conveniently located near our hotel (once we read the map correctly!)
We met Emma on West Nanjing Road, close to the epicenter of the city, right by the only Taco Bell I've seen in China. Mexican food does not seem to translate well into this culture.
Emma took us to an authentic Shanghai seafood place, and ordered mussels. Mussels! I'm generally not finicky about Chinese food, but I don't eat mussels in the United States, under the basic justification that they are nature's filth filters. Still, I choaked one down, and it was surprisingly good--cooked in a steaming egg broath that boils the mussel and solidifies into a tasty gelatin-like substance. She also ordered twice-cooked beef, one of my favorite dishes in Shanghai, so I was more than happy. The food was excellent and I had a great time catching up with my best friend in China.
Dinner ended a little early for our tastes, though. We were to meet Pingping at nine for KTV (karaoke), but needed a place to kill some time. So at first we walked through People's Park, which was largely abandoned. It was beautiful to watch the cityscape rise above the shrubbery of the park, and I got another glance at Barbarosa, the club at which so many of my golden memories of Shanghai took place.
Still, as beautiful and unusually deserted as the park was, it was no place to spend two hours, so we left and went to the Starbucks located at its gates. There, I drank two venti skim lattes and set the stage for a long, long evening by consuming such high doses of caffeine.
At nine o'clock we left for KTV and met up with some of Pingping's friends from the last semester of CIEE Nanjing: Chris, Christine, Stephanie, Max and a Shanghai kid named Jeremiah. We had only booked two hours at the KTV place, so we left at eleven to go to a club that I was unfamiliar with--MUSE.
MUSE was a fairly flashy two-story club that had apparently been started by a Hong Kong pop star. The cover charge was 100 kuai ($12) and included 1 free drink. This free drink did not extend to water, however, as I was dismayed to learn. 48 kuai later ($6), I was in possession of a six-ounce bottle of Evian. One dollar an ounce. *sigh*
Still, I had a wonderful, if slightly dry, time dancing. We headed up to the second floor, which had a live hip-hop band, clearly imported from the United States. It didn't quite fit in with the Jailbreak theme that the club was hosting that evening, but no one seemed to care as they oggled the gyrations of various imported go-go dancers, clad in tight latex cop uniforms.
By two o'clock, though, things at the club were winding down, and half of the party wished to go home. Andy was pretty fatigued, not tired from dancing, but tired of pretending to enjoy the music, and would have gone home, if they hadn't suggested going to C's, a club familiar to us both.
C's is a magical place. It clearly was, at some point, a Mexican restaurant (which, as I mentioned earlier, is not a recipie for success in Asia). The walls are covered in stucco, and some have been repainted in a heavy coat of lucky deep pink, perhaps light mauve/brown, but those that remain from the early days are painted with murals of bullfights and flamenco dancers. Still, most of the walls are a muddy color and liberally splattered with English graffiti. Last time I was here, I took many photos of the sometimes odd quotes, my favorite of which was, "If I lived in China, I would adopt a Chinese baby!!!" Andy prefers the quote, "Andy, you'll never wank alone!"
C's is also located underground, in a seedy hotel, which gives it a shady air, one that it completely deserves. Drinks are anywere from 10-15 kuai ($1.25-1.87), and slightly watered down. If you really want a hard drink there, your best bet is to order a bottle of Smirnoff, which they will open at your table with a dramatic gesture, straining to twist the cap, thereby proving that it was sealed before it arrived.
But none of us were in the mood to get drunk. Instead, we each (except me, of course) nursed a drink through our stay there, which was surely several hours long. I know that we left sometime after four.
What did we do, sitting at a table for nearly three hours? It's a reasonable question to ask, if you didn't know who was at the table.
It was Emma, Pingping, Jeremiah, Chris, Andy and I. You're familiar with me and Andy, of course, but I should introduce you a little to the other characters that joined us that evening. Emma works for a competitive cosmetics firm and is in training for a high management position. She is beautiful and very graceful, and strikes an often difficult to negotiate balance between detirmination and retiring feminity. Pingping does not worry so much about this balance. It is clear that she has chosen to be strong, and is, at heart, a modern Shanghai woman. If she would only admit this and relocate! I cannot speak to the characters of Jeremiah and Chris as accurately, as I had just met them, but as the evening wore on, we felt like old friends as we delved into deeply philosophical conversations---about drugs and sex.
Haha! I can't tell you too much more about what we discussed, because I'm afraid it would reveal personal secrets, but let me assure you that I have been part of few such stimulating conversations.
I spent most of the train ride listening to Beach Boy songs on my iPod, while Andy tried to sleep, a car away. The train is exceedingly pleasant as the "dong" trains have begun to run between Nanjing and Shanghai on an hourly basis. These trains are electric, and run at speeds as high as 250 km per hour (we think-- we were watching the meter pretty closely, and that's the highest we saw it get). The seats are comfortable and reversable, so you're always facing forward.
Our train arrived in Shanghai a mere two hours later, even with three stops. Still, we had to run to check into our hostel and go to the bank before we met with Emma at 5:30. We did have an excellent experience using the Subway, which was very conveniently located near our hotel (once we read the map correctly!)
We met Emma on West Nanjing Road, close to the epicenter of the city, right by the only Taco Bell I've seen in China. Mexican food does not seem to translate well into this culture.
Emma took us to an authentic Shanghai seafood place, and ordered mussels. Mussels! I'm generally not finicky about Chinese food, but I don't eat mussels in the United States, under the basic justification that they are nature's filth filters. Still, I choaked one down, and it was surprisingly good--cooked in a steaming egg broath that boils the mussel and solidifies into a tasty gelatin-like substance. She also ordered twice-cooked beef, one of my favorite dishes in Shanghai, so I was more than happy. The food was excellent and I had a great time catching up with my best friend in China.
Dinner ended a little early for our tastes, though. We were to meet Pingping at nine for KTV (karaoke), but needed a place to kill some time. So at first we walked through People's Park, which was largely abandoned. It was beautiful to watch the cityscape rise above the shrubbery of the park, and I got another glance at Barbarosa, the club at which so many of my golden memories of Shanghai took place.
Still, as beautiful and unusually deserted as the park was, it was no place to spend two hours, so we left and went to the Starbucks located at its gates. There, I drank two venti skim lattes and set the stage for a long, long evening by consuming such high doses of caffeine.
At nine o'clock we left for KTV and met up with some of Pingping's friends from the last semester of CIEE Nanjing: Chris, Christine, Stephanie, Max and a Shanghai kid named Jeremiah. We had only booked two hours at the KTV place, so we left at eleven to go to a club that I was unfamiliar with--MUSE.
MUSE was a fairly flashy two-story club that had apparently been started by a Hong Kong pop star. The cover charge was 100 kuai ($12) and included 1 free drink. This free drink did not extend to water, however, as I was dismayed to learn. 48 kuai later ($6), I was in possession of a six-ounce bottle of Evian. One dollar an ounce. *sigh*
Still, I had a wonderful, if slightly dry, time dancing. We headed up to the second floor, which had a live hip-hop band, clearly imported from the United States. It didn't quite fit in with the Jailbreak theme that the club was hosting that evening, but no one seemed to care as they oggled the gyrations of various imported go-go dancers, clad in tight latex cop uniforms.
By two o'clock, though, things at the club were winding down, and half of the party wished to go home. Andy was pretty fatigued, not tired from dancing, but tired of pretending to enjoy the music, and would have gone home, if they hadn't suggested going to C's, a club familiar to us both.
C's is a magical place. It clearly was, at some point, a Mexican restaurant (which, as I mentioned earlier, is not a recipie for success in Asia). The walls are covered in stucco, and some have been repainted in a heavy coat of lucky deep pink, perhaps light mauve/brown, but those that remain from the early days are painted with murals of bullfights and flamenco dancers. Still, most of the walls are a muddy color and liberally splattered with English graffiti. Last time I was here, I took many photos of the sometimes odd quotes, my favorite of which was, "If I lived in China, I would adopt a Chinese baby!!!" Andy prefers the quote, "Andy, you'll never wank alone!"
C's is also located underground, in a seedy hotel, which gives it a shady air, one that it completely deserves. Drinks are anywere from 10-15 kuai ($1.25-1.87), and slightly watered down. If you really want a hard drink there, your best bet is to order a bottle of Smirnoff, which they will open at your table with a dramatic gesture, straining to twist the cap, thereby proving that it was sealed before it arrived.
But none of us were in the mood to get drunk. Instead, we each (except me, of course) nursed a drink through our stay there, which was surely several hours long. I know that we left sometime after four.
What did we do, sitting at a table for nearly three hours? It's a reasonable question to ask, if you didn't know who was at the table.
It was Emma, Pingping, Jeremiah, Chris, Andy and I. You're familiar with me and Andy, of course, but I should introduce you a little to the other characters that joined us that evening. Emma works for a competitive cosmetics firm and is in training for a high management position. She is beautiful and very graceful, and strikes an often difficult to negotiate balance between detirmination and retiring feminity. Pingping does not worry so much about this balance. It is clear that she has chosen to be strong, and is, at heart, a modern Shanghai woman. If she would only admit this and relocate! I cannot speak to the characters of Jeremiah and Chris as accurately, as I had just met them, but as the evening wore on, we felt like old friends as we delved into deeply philosophical conversations---about drugs and sex.
Haha! I can't tell you too much more about what we discussed, because I'm afraid it would reveal personal secrets, but let me assure you that I have been part of few such stimulating conversations.
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