No births, but deaths and marriages

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Shanghai. I had a lovely walk in the morning around the market outside my hostel. There were firecrackers everywhere strung into heart shapes. Someone was get married. The street was all ready for the bride and groom to return, lots of red paper everywhere, and two of the regular market stalls had a whole range of wedding related fireworks and signs available to buy. Usually both stalls sell socks and tights! I was impressed by the opportunism.

 

Further down the street I found several old men folding squares of silver paper into little origami boats and selling them. I had seen these before but only on TV when there's a funeral. I wondered if perhaps the traditions were linked - perhaps paper boats were for weddings too? No. These little paper boats are for funerals, and as I walked down the street I saw them lift the body into the back of an ambulance. Again, I was impressed that the old men had set up shop right there before the body had even been taken away.

 

I kind of expected to hear about a baby being born, I secretly long to be given an egg painted red (the traditional gift to friends and family from new parents when a bady arrives) and get my hopes up. Alas, no red eggs, no babies, just people going about their business with life going on around them.

The Quest to Find Who Nose

I have been confused about something for almost a week. I have asked numerous Chinese people about it, and I have been getting an even split between embarrassed laughter and claims of not knowing anything about it. In order to elaborate, I must relay a story from the end of my last visit to China.

 

Michelle and I were taking a train to Beijing. The journey is about 12 hours and we could only book the very top bunks of the sleeper train which meant we had fun clambering up and down. We shared our carriage with a young man who was hoping to take an English exam in a few months' time. His Chinese name translates at the Healthy King so that's what I'll call him from now on.

 

The Healthy King was from Beijing and spoke Chinese with the lovely rolling R of the Beijing accent. I used to really hate this sound, but now I love it and tune in to Beijing news here in Shanghai just so I can hear the purring R sound of the Capital. The three of us chatted for a few hours, Michelle will remember my glee at the translation job I was able to do so that she could chat to His Royal Healthiness. Around 11, Michelle climbed the stairs (oh so many stairs) to bedfordshire and the King and I stayed up chatting. It was the first time in a long time that I had a varied conversation with someone in China - usually chats focus on what it's like to learn Chinese, whether or not I like Chinese food and the differences between the West and China. The King and I just had a chat about stuff. Quite late, I clambered up into my vertigo inducing bed and went to sleep.

The next day, HK insisted on walking us to the subway station when we got off the train. Our chat the night before had made us pals and he was very nice to both of us - helping us with bags etc. Then, as we said our farewell, he caught me completely off guard with an incredibly intimate gesture. He stroked the length of my nose with the crook of his forefinger. I was gobsmacked and could hardly explain to Michelle what had happened - she was looking the other way at the time. It's rare to be touched by a Chinese man and even though it was just my nose, it would have been less personal if he's given me a great big kiss!

 

So, moving forward almost 12 months, I was having dinner with my new Big Brother and Big Sister and she stroked his nose in the same way. He was very embarrassed and pushed her away. I asked what the nose stroking was all about and before my Big Sister (usually the one who is very honest about everything) could finish her sentence, my Big Bro said that it meant that Big Sister really really loves him. She slapped him playfully and then tried to explain to me what it really meant - using a verb I don't know - Big Brother stepped in and decided this was not an appropriate conversation for his Little English Sister to have and sent me off to another room!

 

Last night, I was in a taxi home and having a great chat with the driver. He was of the opinion that the best way for me to have fun in China was to have a Chinese fella and an English fella - the Chinese one was to help with my language skills, cultural integration, to make sure I got home at night and to stop me from getting fat and that I should keep my English one so that I can get married and have lots of money. It was entertaining if nothing else. Anyway, as I paid for the taxi we carried on chatting, then he says "English little sister, wait a minute" and stroked the crook of his finger down my nose.

 

So, twice in one year! Two random men have fondled my nose after a nice conversation. But what does it mean?

 

Here are the answers I got today:

 

"A man should never touch a woman's nose"

"It means nothing, are you crazy?"

"Your nose is the key to your heart"

"Are you sure you didn't have something on your face?"

"Why would anyone want to touch your nose?"

 

Who nose!

The Magic of Tofu

I love tofu. And in China that's an easy thing to enjoy, all kinds of tofu every day. In fact, it's only 1pm and I've already eaten four kinds of bean curd today. As soon as vegetarianism comes up over dinner, a Chinese person will tell me how it's great that I can eat so much tofu in China and that it's really good for skin. And it gives me the chance to show off my fancy tofu-related vocabulary while we discuss the different kinds and the best way to serve each one.

 

I know from my dietary studies in the UK that tofu is really good for women in general because it's full of lots of great girlie hormones. Yay for tofu. Yay for it being good for skin and for girls. Yay yay yay.

 

At dinner the other night this topic came up again. It is strange how seemingly random topics suddenly become very normal while I am in China. I flexed my vocab a bit more and said that I'd heard men shouldn't eat too much tofu because of the hormones. My Chinese companions looked at me like I was crazy. And then explained that 'eating tofu' had another meaning. My heart sank as I expected another "my boyfriend masturbates at 3:30" incident, see an earlier post for details. Thankfully, it was not of the same standard! 'Eating tofu' means touching the skin of a woman you don't know. So it's exactly right to say that a man shouldn't eat too much tofu, and that it impacts on hormones, but not for the way I imagined.

Adopted

I have a new family.

 

Following last week's business dinner and all the drinking and toasting and drinking and drinking and feeling very ropey the following day, my Big Brother has adopted me into his family.

 

This week, he organised a dinner to mark my adoption at his little restaurant in the middle of Shanghai. I am always overwhelmed at the generosity of the people I meet in China and the warmth of Big Brother's welcome was enough to make me need a little cry on the way home.

 

My Big Brother is in his 40s, he runs several small restaurants. He is married to my Big Sister, a very beautiful woman who looks nothing like her 40 years. She asked me not to call her Big Sister-in-Law as she doesn't like the word - neither do I so Big Sister suits us both very well. They have a 15 year old son so I have my Little Nephew. Then comes the tricky part - because Big Brother has two nephews, they become my nephews (Big Nephew and 2nd Nephew respectively) despite being older than me. Usually I would call them Big Brother too but because I already have Big Brother, they would have to be 2nd Brother and 3rd Brother.! Are you keeping up with me? These words to describe relationships are wonderful once you get the hang of them, just from the introduction you know how someone fits with someone else and precisely what they relationship is. there's no need for the questions so common in English about whether someone is from your mother's side or your father's side. It's all very clear. That is until you learn that Brother, Sister, Grandma and Cousin can be used to describe someone's boyfriend or girlfriend!  I once had a very confusing conversation with a girl who told me about a time that her brother visited her in the night so she couldn't play in an important basketball match the next day. Her Brother was her period!

 

 During dinner everyone was very kind and polite in a Chinese way, my bowl was filled with all the good stuff, everyone toasted with me at least 3 times and thanks to reading a lot of Amy Tan books while I did my A-levels, I knew that all the complaints about the food were not real. It was hard to keep up though I felt I fared better at returning toasts this time. It was a fun evening and as Big Brother got happier and happier (thanks to several bottles of baijiu and rather a lot of yellow wine) he found a new way to entertain himself. He says "Little Sister" and I reply "Big Brother" and he looks at me in the proud and sweet way that parents look at their kids when they say something funny and cute.

 

Towards the end of the meal, Big Brother asks if I will go downstairs to help him with something. He takes out his phone and starts to make a call, he wants to call our "Mother" so that she can say hello to her new "Daughter". I was rather worried - she's an older lady, it's 10pm at night (rather late in a country where dinner is eaten between 5:30 and 7pm) and as fond of me as Big Brother has become in the last week, I wasn't sure how fond of me his Mother would be! Luckily the booze made his fingers slower so Big Sister managed to come and sort it out before we woke the old lady up!

 

Big Brother calls every day to check that I have eaten and to remind me to get plenty of sleep. I'm going over there next week to make dumplings, I'll take my camera and provide pictures as soon as I can.

To Assume Makes An Ass of U and Me

A few nights ago, I walked home from a very nice evening out with my rather drunk Chinese friend and his very sober American girlfriend. We stopped off for some Yangzhou lamb noodles on the way home. I had lambless Yangzhou lamb noodles of course. The shop was tiny, perhaps just 3 tables and little low plastic stools. I love this kind of place. Grubby, no pretense at all and usually fabulous tasty food which is the sole focus of the experience because the surroundings are so drab.

 

We ordered some food and sat chatting with the very curious staff who had lots of questions for two foreign girls. After a while,  an old man shuffled in and ordered some noodles too. He sat at the table behind me. I was showing a magazine article to one of the waiters. The elderly man asked me a few questions, very standard, where were we from? What were we doing in China? Were we used to Chinese people asking us so many questions? I admit, my answers were as standard as his questions. It was late, I was tired and I really just wanted to eat my noodles and enjoy the chopped green onions sprinkled all over them. The elderly man was no perturbed and continued to ask. And ask and ask. He asked a lot of America, so I translated the questions and answers between my American companion and the elderly man. He asked if I had been to Washington, I said I hadn't and turned back to my noodles.

 

Then, in divine English he says "I've been to Washington" and we all fell about laughing. It was such a shock! It's very common to find young people in China who speak very very good English, but rare in older people. This man was very pleased with his joke! He was a professor who specialises in thermal materials for rockets and missiles. He explained that as a child he studied at a British missionary school in Shanghai, not far from where I am staying. He glossed over what happened during the revolution, but he now lives in Beijing and had just come back to Shanghai to visit his mother. I did not ask how old she was, but figured she must be pretty ancient now.

 

His English was really beautiful to listen to with soft intonation and a gentle mixture of British and Ameican pronunciation. I wanted to ask him to read me a story!

 

He was rather disinterested in me by this point, I imagine because I'd been rather short in my answers earlier. I was humbled.

 

And reminded I should never assume.

 

But of course, I will continue to do so!

Business Studies

This week I have been fortunate to attend some Chinese business meetings with a friend. I want to learn more about the way things are done here in China, particularly negotiation and disagreements.

 

On Thursday night this involved a meeting with a man who wanted to "do some business" with my friend. My buddy had been generous enough to share his meetings with me, but I sensed a real reluctance to explain how he felt about the meeting. It was clear he didn't want to go, and that he was feeling some pressure to cooperate with this man.

 

We arrived on a street corner where the man was waiting for us, my friend was on the phone and not about to end his call just because he had arrived (this is a very Chinese thing to do). Feeling awkward, I went to stand with the man we had met and made small talk. He seemed slightly bemused that my friend had brought me along and reluctant to talk about much of anything. I asked where we were going and he said we'd go to his little brother's place for a moment to talk and then go to eat dinner. On hearing this, my friend ended his phone call and said that we should just go to the restaurant. This made me a little nervous. The man insisted we follow him and we headed into a residential estate and up some stairs to a lobby area where three men and two women were waiting for us. If the first man had been bemused to see me show up, these guys were stunned into total silence. Recovering after a few seconds, they started talking to my friend and talking about the building - Little Brother (a common thing to call someone close to you but younger than you in China) owned the whole thing and was keen to show it off. They took my friend on a tour of the building but asked me just to sit in the lobby where 2 men and the 2 women eyed me suspiciously. Sometimes, it is far better to pretend you don't speak Chinese so I just sat (demurely of course, that taxi driver taught me well) and waited for everyone to come back.

 

After Little Brother and Big Brother had finished this display of wealth and status, off we all go to a restaurant. It occurred to me that at this stage, I was also a display of status. The questions start - 'Does the foreigner eat Chinese food?', 'Can she use chopsticks?', 'Does she like spicy food?'. My friend did me a great service and told them to ask me. Hearing that I could make conversation was something of a relief to them all. As we wandered down the street, my friend spoke with me in English about the evening - telling me that these people did business in a really traditional Chinese way, and that he hoped it would go well. Was the English speaking another way to show his power? I asked if there was anything I should do or not do in terms of manners, he said there were no table manners in China which is of course a complete lie! It's just that when something is natural to you, you forget to tell other people about it.

 

At the restaurant, the menu is handed to me - usually confident with my Chinese and anything to do with food I suddenly baulked at the idea of having to read with 8 pairs of eyes watching me. I quickly passed the responsibility to someone else saying that they would have to wait too long for me to read everything. Food ordered it was time to order drinks. I've heard a lot about the amount of alcohol consumed during these dinners so I said that I didn't want to drink. "No problem" said Big Brother, "No alcohol for you - you're a girl and your foreign, it's fair". So  a beer I was given, a strange version of non-alcoholic! The men cracked open a bottle of baijiu (the dangerous ingredient added to all our punch bowls at our student parties at Fudan) which was finished in less than 15 minutes.

 

The protocol seemed to go like this - each person around the table makes a toast to someone else. During last summer, I studied a business Chinese course with a man who explained that to be really polite you should hold your glass lower than the person you are chinking glasses with. I was grateful for this insight and tried as often as possible to keep my eyes down, my smile under control and my glass lower than anyone toasting me. I had also read that I should return all toasts - but I had some problem because I didn't know any one's name! And I didn't know any of them well enough to just use the catch all "Big Brother", "Big Sister". So I decided that no one would think it too odd if I didn't know what to do! The toast is made by giving the person a (rather overblown) compliment. When Little Brother toasted me, I got something along the lines of:

 

"Here's to you, little English sister Fenya, who has made our night so special and happy by coming and enjoying this simple meal and being so pretty and polite and speaking such perfect Chinese just like a Chinese person"

 

And so on and so on. I noticed that no one drank unless they were toasting so if you were thirsty, you'd have to make a toast with someone or wait for someone to toast you before you could drink something.

 

After the men drank their baijiu, they started on yellow wine - sort of sweet and, as my cousin Sally and I know from a very lively night out in Shanghai, lethal. Rather than share the bottle among all the men, my friend and Little Brother split the whole thing into two glasses - which they then drank dry. I was nearly sick at the thought of it remembering the worst hangover of my life and the taste of yellow wine which stayed with me for days.

 

By this point, everyone was quite flushed and happy. I noticed that one of the men seemed to drink much less and was watching everything. I figured that was a sensible role to give someone at a dinner where the boss gets completely wasted. Next comes another bottle of something, and drinking games started. Now, I'm sorry that I will be such a poor cultural guide in explaining what happened during this game but I'm not sure if it was the large amount of beer or if it was the complexity of the game, but I couldn't figure out the rules, or who won or lost - sometimes the winner had to drink, sometimes the loser had to drink. Then out came the Chinese tongue twisters which amused me so much earlier this week that I sprayed lemonade through my nose. I will study them and at later dinners, impress Chinese diners with my ability to say this funny poem about a Llama from Tibet carrying bread who is met by a mute man carrying a horn and how they killed each other! But for now, I will just watch and listen and enjoy.

 

Big Brother sat next to me through dinner and we had chatted about his wife and his hometown and talked a little about his business. I decided I would chance it and while everyone was busy with the drinking games and funny rhymes, I would offer him a toast. So, slightly worried that I would be using a too familiar way to address him, I raised my glass and said "Big Brother, will you drink a glass with me?"

 

I am not sure I have ever seen a bigger smile. So, we make our toast and I felt relieved. Until he stops everyone and says - "look, look, she just called me Big Brother"

 

And they all did something like a big "Awwwwwwwwww"

 

And so I got toasted again

 

"Little Sister, you are now part of my family and I will always take care of you. So will my wife, we could call her now so that you can chat with her"

 

This carried on for the whole evening.

 

My role in the evening became clearer as my friend starts to explain more about his business model and how he understands foreigners and what they expect from Chinese services. Peppering his language with English words and plenty of reassurance from me that, yes, most Westerners like to see traditional things in China and that yes, it would be OK for a boy and a girl to share a room if they weren't married and even if they were just friends, and yes, I would share a room with a black person. All of these things were strange concepts to the other people around the table. I think my friend wanted to show that he could run his business the right way because he understood what the foreign market wanted and that if Big and Little Brother wanted a piece of the action, they would have to do what he said.

 

I must admit that the rest of the night is a little fuzzy. Not so fuzzy that when Big Brother offered to drive me home I didn't manage to persuade him that it might be better to take a taxi! The Drink Drive message hasn't really been pushed over here!

 

 

 

InterFreya - the latest breach of interlectual property in China

Yesterday I found myself on a most curious mission. A German man has had his heart captivated by a Chinese woman. He was leaving China but wanted to send this lady some flowers - but without embarrassing her or making too grand a statement. He was so nervous about the whole thing, and utterly charming. He was sure the girl had no feelings for him, but I wasn't sure she would stay that way if she could have heard the conversation we had. He's got it bad!

 

So, naturally he enlisted the help of Special Agent Baggins! Loaded with cash and the address of the lady's office, I set off with the owner of the Sleeping Dragon to carry out this task. The German had given us about 40GBP to buy flowers - I could have got a whole truck sent to her for that price. We spent about half the money on a MASSIVE and rather stylish and gorgeous bouquet. Waiting outside the TV studio where this lady worked, I was seriously nervous about what her reaction would be. She arrived looking tired and rather bemused - she explained she hadn't left the office or slept for a few days. At least now she can be sleepless at work with a desk smothered in flowers.

 

It warmed the cockles of my heart.

 

 

 

 

The Curious Incident of the Freya in the Night Time

A birthday, a dinner, a large group of friends from all over the world. A full belly, some laughs, a bag of gifts, a journey home. Sleepy. Very sleepy...

 

And locked out. I arrived back to my hostel at 1:20am - rather respectable time I thought since I am now a grown up and firmly in my "late twenties". The hostel was locked - reception closes at 1am but guests are supposed to have access 24hrs. There's a doorbell so I pressed it and was rather embarrassed to hear that it played a whole tune rather than just a dingdong. After a few moments there were still no signs of life. I pressed the bell again less concerned about whether the little tinny tune woke up the whole street. It didn't! It didn't wake anyone. I pressed again and again, increasingly anxious and in need of the loo (acorn bladder + night time cold air). Around 10 minutes later, the situation got worse. A small group of rather drunk men were coming down the street, I started banging on the door. It wasn't like the men were doing anything threatening, I just didn't fancy being locked out in the street with them. As they approached I tried to make it look less like I was locked out (no more door thumping, no more bell ringing) and more like I was waiting for someone. I also focused on making myself as inconspicuous as possible, which was very effective until one of them stopped for a pee and noticed me on his quick look round to see if anyone was watching.

 

What he said was in Shanghainese, so I didn't understand it but it was clear that the basic gist was "Hey look! There's a foreign girl out here". The rest of his gang made their way back up the street to have a look at me. I was reminded of a book my very right on Mum used to read to me as a child about a white man who went to an island where everyone was blue and they put him in a cage to stare at him. My dark street on a dark night felt rather like a cage.

 

The situation got moderately worse when a second group of men met with the first. Now, before I worry you all too much, this situation would have been much more frightening in the UK than in China where, in general, men are far more respectful of woman and I wasn't scared of being assaulted. Robbed maybe! But worse was just the idea of being surrounded and not wanting to continue banging on the door with them watching.

 

After what felt like an age in this make shift zoo pen, I received a text message so took out my phone and read it. Of course it was from Sam reassuring me that it would all be OK. It gave me an idea. I made a fake phone call.

 

"Darling, it's me. I'm standing outside 394 Zhoushan Rd. You're late, where are you?" said with my perfected Chinese fishwife tone.

 

"Oh good, OK. So, I'll see you in a few minutes. Who is with you? Oh! That many? Well, I'd better cook something quickly, you boys will be hungry"

 

On hearing that another group of men would soon arrive, my audience departed in dribs and drabs.

 

Leaving me on the door step surrounded by my bags of lovely gifts and still locked out.

 

Ten more minutes of door banging and bell ringing and it became clear that this was not going to be an effective strategy. I wandered around the whole building looking for an open window or a light on in a room somewhere. Nothing. Ah well, I thought, I have money with me. I'll just go to another hotel round the corner and spend the night there.

 

Only when I got there did I find that my passport was, of course, in my other room and so I could not check in to another hotel. I called round some friends and no one was answering. I started to feel very alone in this big city. Thankfully China has 2 things that are very very useful in this situation - all night karaoke lounges and 24hr coffee shops. I made my way to the main drag near here to find such a place... I might even sing a song or two. At that moment, my friend Hector called back and on hearing his voice and therefore my ticket out of this situation, I burst into tears! I know, 'cry on your birthday and you'll cry all year' but it wasn't strictly my birthday in China anymore. He told me to come to his place and I set off in a cab and to see a very worried Hector and his sleepy girlfriend.

 

Relaying this whole thing to them sounded so silly. I think what shook me was the feeling of being alone. Even though I am blessed with a wonderful group of people here in Shanghai, I still felt by myself.

 

However, my misfortune has led to an even warmer welcome from my hosts who were mortified to have left me in the street. Once I find a job and an apartment, I shall be sad to leave my Sleeping Dragon. But I will tell other guests that the dragon sleeps very soundly so if you want to wake it up, you have to have lots of stamina!

 

 

Hats off to me!

A little anecdote from Shanghai life. I was walking in the rain a few nights ago, wearing my favourite purple hat with the peak pulled down to keep the rain from my eyes. A lady approached me and asked for directions. I just told her I didn't know and it was the first time I had been to that area. She was obviously in a hurry and didn't really look at my face. Off she walked til her companion started pointing and shouting. The lost lady ran back over to me, pulled up the peak of my cap and exclaimed "Heavens, you're right. She's a foreigner. I had no idea". It made me walk a few inches taller. Til I tried to book a restaurant and used the wrong tone to say my own name! Ah yin and yang are in force. The balance is always restored!

 

 

Sleepless in Shanghai

Since I got to China, I have been denied my greatest pleasure in life...and the strain on both my face and my mood is starting to show. I simply can't sleep.

 

Last night my sleeplessness didn't seem so bad. It has rained non-stop for about 36 hours. Really slugging it down. I lay in bed last night, awake of course, and slowly the city became quiet. Around 4am the whole place seems to be dozing. The rain was pattering on the roof, and lolled me to a state of relaxation even if it didn't quite do the job and put me into a coma! It's still pouring now so all I really feel like doing is curling up on a sofa under a blanket and reading a book. The danger of this making me nod off is too great so I shall resist. Surely I will manage to sleep for a few hours at night tonight?!

 

The result is my writing juices aren't flowing as they should. Must do better!

24 Hours of Smiles

Different from my usual style, here's a short list of things that have tickled me over the last 24 hours:

 

A hairdresser (with very bad hair) standing in the window of his salon picking his ear and looking very glum indeed. The name of the shop? "Happy"

 

A tiny puppy (a little bit bigger than my hand) who alternates his outfits between a green spotty jacket and a small bumble bee costume.

 

A sparrow sitting on the head of a large statue of Chairman Mao (if only it had needed the loo - the bird, I mean, not the statue)

 

A man with an enormous cloud of polystyrene tied to the back of his bike. It was so heavy his front wheel lifted off the ground leaving him suspended in the air. Beautiful.

 

A couple wearing matching t-shirts. His green, hers yellow. Both said "Cok head" across the front.

 

 

 

How to find a husband - taxi driver style

Last night I spent a lovely evening catching up with friends. They headed on to a party but I was pooped (a real party pooper) and headed home to my bed. My taxi driver was a priceless gem � if only because he was so well-meaning and hopelessly rude to my British sensibilities in the process.

 

He asked STDQ 1 (Standard Taxi Driver Question) � where are you from? He then moved swiftly to STDQ 3 � are you married yet? I said no, but was too tired to explain that my Beloved was in the UK and that by British standards I am not on the shelf. At this point we stopped at a set of traffic lights, he bent his head around the little screen that separates the driver from passenger and, obviously taking my silence as disappointment, said "You just need some good advice, then you'll get married".

 

Curious, I asked what advice he would give me.

 

"Well, you smile too much" - I've heard this from Chinese men before � smiling is fine, but a full on headlamps Freya grin is too much. I should smile demurely, head tilted to one side, eyes hardly meeting the man I am smiling at. I had great fun getting some men in a foot massage shop to demonstrate what this smile was like. I decided that playing along with Mr Taxi could be good fun, so I earnestly asked for more tips on how I could save myself from spinsterhood.

 

"You're going home early on a Friday night, that's not a good way to find a man" I explained I was jetlagged, he told me I lacked stamina and would benefit from sleeping less.

 

"You're fat, very fat for a Chinese person" - I stifled a chuckle (obviously now that smiling was banned, I chuckled demurely) and nodded. It's true � I would struggle to buy clothes in China now as I'm firmly in XXL territory (that's a size 12 in the UK). I told him that I intended to do more exercise. He said this was good, but that eating less would be better. He recommended an apple for breakfast and dinner and just eating a very small lunch. Again, I felt the chuckle rising.

 

Was there anything else I could do, I wondered. Of course! I should cut my hair shorter � apparently longer hair is for young women. I was tempted to ask how old are you when you stop being a young woman as he had neglected to ask STDQ 2 (how old are you?).

 

Oh Masterful taxi driver, so full of knowledge about how to avoid being destined to a lonely loveless barren life, slightly pudgy from sitting still and driving all day long, with finger nails far too long for a man and a tendency to hawk phlegm every 3 minutes, what else could I do?

 

I could go out with him. He's not married either and his Mum keeps telling him to settle down.

 

I was laughing too much to say anything except thanks. And then I headed to bed.

Pyjama Party

I'm staying in a hostel in an old part of Shanghai. It's a 1920s mansion house that sits kind of out of place on a very busy market street � it's kind of like Broadway Market � except the meat and fish are all still alive, there's no one selling olives and I'd struggle to find baby clothes made from organic fair trade cotton.

 

My room is at the top of the house up several flights of lovely red wooden stairs and past several enormous chandaliers. I'm completely charmed by its ramshackle nature and feeling of fade grandure � though it did make the think of a friend's recent desciption of a hotel as  "just the sh*t kind of place you love, Freya". Other plusses include friendly staff, doors that lock, loos that flush and hot water all through the day � let's just say the place has character and now my Ma can rest easy that it's safe.  

 

I didn't manage to explore until later on in the evening by which time it was dark and the market outside had changed from bustling wet market to lively snacks on sticks market. The road isn't offcially closed to traffic so there's pretty constant beeping from scooters and the occassional cars and calls of "coming though" and "move it" from cyclists.  There are still lanes of houses nearby that do not have indoor plumbing so families wash together in a large stone sink in the  courtyards outside, a small group of women in their 20s were getting a foot massage and having a gossip, a group of older men in blue Mao jackets (though one had accessorised with a dazzling pair of bright white trainers) were playing a very heated game of cards around a table and a crowd had gathered around to watch. People live their lives out in the streets in these areas in a way I love. 

 

The area I'm in gives a feeling of what's often described as "real China" or "real Shanghai" - though I confess I find these descriptions kind of strange. I'm often told that Shanghai isn't "real" China � by which I think people mean it's modern, it's expensive and it's more cosmopolitan. But to me, it's part of "real" China � it's just the modern, expensive and cosmopolitan part of China.

 

As I strolled along, a man in his 40s wearing his pyjamas came over for a chat. I add in his age only because an elderly man in his pyjamas is somehow not as interesting as a middle aged man in his pyjamas. This streetside PJ wearing this still tickles me � ever since Sam and I taught in Guangzhou after I graduated and found whole families out for an evening stroll in their jimjams. I still haven't had a conclusive answer about why this may occur � and it's something that many Chinese friends are exasperated to be asked about. It seems to be about demonstrating wealth � initially to be able to afford night clothes, and later to show that you live in the area which may also show you to be wealthier than the next person who is just wearing ordinary clothes but can't just trot around the corner and flop straight into bed.

 

Mr PJ asked me in English what I was doing. I said I was walking (also in English as I know how frustrating it is to want to practise my hard learned language and then have someone answer every question in English). He strolled along beside me, eyes straight ahead but every 10 paces or so he would take a sidelong glance. He looked kind of awkward so I said in Chinese that I was taking some exercise before I had my tea. At this he looked very much relieved and we set about a more detailed chat. Although we only walked together for 2 blocks, Mr PJ asked such interesting questions that I woke up this morning still wondering what the answers are.

 

"You are a foreigner and you can afford to come to visit China, so why would you choose to stay somewhere like this?"

 

"Isn't it full of Chinese people? You could stay somewhere better, somewhere nicer, where there are other foreigners"

 

"Why are you interested in seeing poverty? Here there's no money and people are struggling. Why do you want to see this side of China?"

 

To him, despite wearing his pyjamas to prove he lived in this area, it was somewhat embarrassing to have a tourist wandering around and seeing people live their lives. I didn't have my camera with me, I learned not to stare too long a few years ago after a man chased me with a not quite dead chicken he'd been killing and I like to think I just blend in (aside from being a whole different colour and everything!!). I wondered what the equivalent would be in the UK � but nothing else quite compares � which is probably why I love what's outside the door to my tumbling mansion house turned hostel.

 

It's all waiting for me outside. 

 

57 57 5777!

I must admit I arrived in Shanghai with a heavy heart � lots of goodbyes followed by a biting into a meat sausage posing as a veggie sausage in a sandwich shocker then one last super sad goodbye and no sleep � all ensured I wasn't in the mood for China when I finally emerged through customs and got outside.

 

My taxi driver was rather sedate (and rather grumpy) and asked me repeatedly about something I didn't understand which just added to my general feeling of wanting to be on the next flight to London. A long traffic jam later, lots of spitting out of the window (him, not me) and he was a bit more interested in chatting � I never did establish what he wanted to know. It left me with an uneasy feeling that my language skills are now so rusty and under-used that I'll be useless in all situations apart from giving my opinion on badminton or the weather. Reading that back, it sounds like the advice young ladies were given in Jane Austen novels! Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all!

 

I arrived at my hostel hot and harassed � but managed to explain who I was. Oh the pleasure of being understood! Blessed relief as I explained to the friendly receptionist that the pretty sinks they have in the bathroom here are really common in China but I've never seen one in England and hope to have one in my future house. OK, it's not UN negotiating but it made me feel better to understand and be understood.

 

I stepped out into the rain to sort out a phone so that I could say I've arrived safely. My previous Chinese phone and my UK mobile and both my UK and Chinese bank cards refused to work at the airport so I was feeling a little stranded and unsure of how I would resolve this. A new phone has restored the feeling of calm that comes from knowing that even if everything's going wrong, at least I can ring someone to tell them.

 

While I was waiting for my phone to be fixed, I had a penny dropping moment (no actual pennies were harmed in the making of this moment) that made me laugh and skip about in the street. I had to wait a little longer for my phone so that I could ring a friend and share my joy.

 

I spent a year in Shanghai travelling in taxis with an automated welcome system � as soon as the driver starts the meter, a little box says hello to you in Chinese and then in English and when you leave the cab, it says bye and reminds you "not to forget anything you take". One particular taxi firm has a catchy little line that I have often danced along to, translated it means "I eat, I eat, I eat eat eat" which is probably why I like it so much � a good motto for life. Still, it never made much sense why a cab firm would want a slogan about eating. While I was standing in the rain, feeling tired and overwhelmed, one such taxi pulled up across the street � I heard the little "I eat I eat" and started to smile. Ah Shanghai, you still have this power over me - to turn a crappy situation into a funny one. Then I had a lightbulb moment. The phone number for the cab firm is 57 57 5777 � which when said in Chinese sounds like "I eat I eat I eat eat eat". I felt that childlike rush of figuring something out and some of my optimism was restored.

 

Obviously doesn't take much to please me these days.

 

 

It's a myth that the Chinese have no word for "no"

 Many people write that the Chinese have no word for "no". Of course, this is not strictly true because every language needs a way of saying "no"! I shall now demonstrate the beauty of the Chinese language and the complexity of Chinese negation, as the Chinese just have lots of ways of saying no!

 

Yesterday, I went to a train ticket booking office to buy two tickets to Harbin in the North of China. The city holds an annual ice festival and my friend and I are very excited about heading up there to brave the -40 temperatures and slide our way around. I got to the front of train ticket queue with the usual pushing and shoving that comes in a culture that doesn't have a culture of queueing, and proudly whipped out "two sleeper tickets to Harbin please, 22nd Jan - and make it snappy". OK, so there was no making it snappy, but if there were such a phrase, I would have said it. The lady behind the counter peered over her glasses and said "No".

 

I asked "No what?"

 

She replied "No"

 

I asked again "No what? No tickets? No I can't have any? No there aren't any? No what?"

 

Again "No"

 

And then a customer behind me shoved me out of the way, and the lady sold him some tickets. No "no" for him!

 

The fuse of my temper had been lit. I queued again, and when I got the front,  I asked again what kind of "no" she meant. There are a handful of ways of saying no - they all have slightly different meanings. For example, saying that there are none is a different "no" to the "no" that means you don't want something. The "no" I was getting was a contextless general "bu" that just kind of means "no" - but it needs other words to help it on it's way to tell you exactly what kind of "no".

 

The lady let out a long slow breath and accompanied with the look of death (known in Nottingham as a 'feisty' - but pronounced 'faisty') and said very calmly through gritted teeth "NO". That was all the context I needed.

 

She then told me again I was causing trouble. But asked me to come back again today...perhaps to cause one of her colleagues some trouble?!

 

I