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

I'm feeling tea

I've been feeling particularly sad this week. A family friend died at the weekend. Someone too young to have gone so soon. I feel sad, I miss my family, I miss my friends and being able to use my own language to explain how I feel. It can be very hard to say what's on your mind or in your heart in another language. Especially when (if said incorrectly) the word for 'bad' can mean 'tea', and, like me, you regularly confuse the words for 'it's a shame' with 'it's laughable'! However, it's reassuring to me that my linguistic blunders are available in times of sadness to provide mild entertainment.

 

Today, one of my teachers spent a lesson talking very openly about her experience during the long march, her re-education period and the cultural revolution. This lively vibrant woman, who I see as a cross between a Beijing opera singer and Mrs Miggins, was made to walk around the university in a dunce's cap for teaching foreigners, with a placard to criticise her own bourgeois behaviour. Teacher Qin is a kind of cuddly grandmotherly figure - all round and splodgy. I've never actually given her a cuddle - which I know will surprise many of you given my fondness for cuddles with people I know, people I don't know, small animals etc. She spent a summer working in sweltering temperatures in a  smelting works, and then went to the countryside for several years - and required to do the lowest jobs in a small village.  She also had to take part in a 'short' long march, walking around 50miles a day for 45 days. What a shocking way to spent your 'prime'!

 

I have read so many books about this period of time, and even though the history around it is familiar to me - having a much loved teacher describe all of this was a bit much. A bit like finding out that your grandmother had some horrible experience that should never have happened.

 

Another student (quite bravely, I thought) asked what she thought of her experience.

 

She threw back her head and laughed her tinkling sing-songy laugh and said "What do I think? I think Teacher Qin is no longer afraid of anything".

 

So, tonight I am going to raise a cup of tea (or a 'cup of bad') to not being afraid of anything, and to Lola, who it seems was also not afraid of anything.

A fishy tale

Recently I was in vegetarian restaurant having a very delicious lunch
when a Dutch man and his mother came in and sat in the courtyard
outside. Through the window it seemed that they were having some
trouble ordering their lunch, the waitress came in and asked me to go
out and translate for them - instant ego boost, much fluffing of
feathers and out I trot to dazzle everyone with my linguistic
skills....

....me being me, that's not exactly what happened.

The man wanted to order a fish dish - it's typical in China for all
veggie food to be made to look and taste like meat (bit of a bugger if
you're one of those veggies who is veggie because you don't like the
taste and texture of meat!) so you can order
'chicken','beef','duck','snails' etc and it all appears to be the real
thing. The man, who I have to add was extremely grumpy, wanted to know
if the fish dish was very large because he was very hungry and thought
it might not be big enough to satisfy him. He was very sure he only
wanted this type of fish, and no rice, no other vegetables and no soup
- which is a pretty odd way to eat in China so the waitress was
already doubting my translation skills. I kept asking her 'how big is
the fish?' and her reply was 'it's not really a fish'. I was getting
more and more frustrated and she was acting as though I was barking
mad. This went on for several minutes before I realised I was asking
her repeatedly 'how old is your fish?'.

Eventually, the dishes were ordered and I was allowed to go back to my
table very red-faced. The man and his mother ended up with fish, side
dishes of veg and rice - I overheard the waitress telling a colleague
that the foreign girl's Chinese wasn't so good after all and so they'd
better give them everything! The Dutch man was even grumpier at having
been given all the things he said he didn't want!

More practise needed!

A China Man

It seems that Chinese masculinity is defined in very different ways to the Western idea of 'what makes a man'.

 

I am still tickled whenever I see a man carrying a pink glittery handbag with Hello Kitty on it - at first I thought the Chinese man bag was just a bit different from our UK-style - but soon learnt that the bag belongs to a lady, and he's just carrying it for her. It's seen as polite to carry your girlfriend's bag for her, the equivalent of carrying someone's books home from school. However, I'm pretty sure that if my book bag had been lilac, sequined and had butterflies all over it, it would have been up to me to carry it! I 

hope that when Sam arrives this week (I am aiming, of course, to avoid telling the taxi driver about my beloved's masturbation habits), he will adopt this practice so that I can laugh at him carrying my ladybag!

 

Another quirk of Chinese fellas is that they don't seem to mind wearing matching T-shirts with their girlfriends/wives.It's common place among younger people to see couples strolling around in matching pink tops with kittens/monkeys/bunnies/anything else cute and fluffy emblazoned on the front. There are special his'n'hers glittery matching t-shirt shops all over Shanghai. I asked a friend (who was wearing a pink t-shirt with a bear on it to match his wife's) if there was anything special about this habit - I didn't want to say that at home I couldn't think of anyone who would wear a pink bear t-shirt to match his beloved's and that us foreigners think it's pretty funny that Chinese men do. His answer "Oh, this t-shirt's cute, I like cute things and so does my wife!". I'm not sure what answer I expected, but it wasn't that.

 

Shanghainese men are seen as special in China - they cook, they clean, they run households. In general, Chinese men from other places see Shanghainese men as the inferior Chinese man. However, Shanghainese men pertain that they are the manliest men because they can take care of everyone in the family and have a job etc etc.

 

It's a whole new world of macho.

Break in Transmission

A longer-than-intended break. I am being censored by the Chinese
firewalls - so I can't see my blog from China, or publish photos from
China or do as much as I would like from China!

However, as the Chinese would say "wo you ban fa" - "I have a way".

I'm back!