Travel Account #7: Shanghai

At the Indian restaurant with the questionable food

Little did we know...

The Bund

Unfortunately, our story of Shanghai is a sad one.  Well, more anticlimactic than sad.  We boarded the fast train (with about five seconds to spare, as usual) around dinner time.  On the train, I started to feel that cramping pain under my ribcage that I remember from those bouts of whatever it was in September.  At the same time, C's nose started running and he said he felt like he might be getting a cold.  There must be something about the unnatural air on trains that induces illness.  By the time we got to our very cool, very artsy-kids-with-scarves-and-Macs hostel, we were both positively sick.  I don't know where he caught his, but mine, we determined was probably from the Indian food we had at a nice restaurant in a hotel before we left.  What a waste of money!  So I spent most of the night vomiting or rolling around being miserable, and he spent equal amounts of time awake with me or nursing his congestion.  It wasn't so bad though, cuz next to my mom, he's definitely the best person to have around when you're throwing up.  But the next morning we didn't get out until the afternoon, and I wasn't exactly feeling up to walking around forever, so we saw the Bund and a main shopping street and then had to go back and take a breather.

Nanjing Street (not Xintiandi)

Earlier, Dad had said we could use his credit card to have a nice dinner one time, and we had been saving it for Shanghai where we knew there would be fantastic restaurant options.  I had successfully eaten a lunch of noodles and broth, so I was confident I could handle dinner as long as we did western instead of some adventurous Thai or Japanese fusion place.  We went to this area called Xintiandi, a newish pedestrianized faux-quaint place with all kinds of tourists strolling on cobblestones and pretending they are really in Europe.  So we found an Italian place, the kind with Italian on the menu, and decided it was sufficiently expensive enough to warrant the use of Dad's card.  We drank shirley temples, which C really liked, and ate pizza and pasta and a lot of bread.  The waiters were all fawning, you know, with pepper grinders and classy English, and the owner came over to chat and asked us if we were in Shanghai on business.  Ah, yes, just business, me and my Mauritanian partner, and my American credit card, here on business.  heehe.  Do I look old enough to be "on business"?! It is nice to do that for fun, eat at a place like that, but actually me and C are so much more comfortable at the dirty mom-and-pop Chinese restaurants.  He is visibly uncomfortable being waited on like that, and probably in the presence of all these other stuffy people.  I at least know how to act like I belong.  But really I have no desire to be wealthy enough to feel entitled to eat regularly at fancy restaurants.  Or maybe I just haven't developed a taste for it.  I don't think I will, though. 
The next morning we got up, and after a time-costly misunderstanding between the two of us (about which I'll spare you the details, as it is just too frustrating) we had another relatively expensive meal at the "Vienna Cafe" that I saw in my guidebook.  The place was full and we had to sit at the bar, but it was lovely.  It was like being at a real cafe in Vienna, except the waiters had a funnier accent, and without the pressure of feeling like you had to speak German. 
Then we said goodbye to Shanghai, sorry we didn't see much of you! Next time! And we hurried to the airport, always hurrying! and flew to Shenzhen, took a bus to Zhuhai, and a cab to my apartment.  I was so upset all day about returning "home."  I had been looking forward to traveling all semester, and then it was over, and I was soooo dreading going back to teaching.  I made C sleep at my place that night, to put off my imminent separation anxiety, but after he left at 7 the next morning like he always does, I just didn't know what to do with myself.  That was the saddest I can remember being, in like, ever. 
I'll have to go back and spend more time in Shanghai, because dude, it was cool.  Anything a westerner could ever miss is there.  After living in Zhuhai, I would want for nothing in that city.  And we didn't even have time (or money) to shop! What a waste!  If someone ever tells you they spent time in China, and you ask where, and they say Shanghai, you can tell them that I say that is cheating.  And yes, I insist on being snobby about it.