Being in a foreign country where you don't speak the language, can't read the signs, and don't have a map can be a stressful experience. I get lost a lot even in my home town. I've been known to spend hours wandering around a parking lot looking for a trail head and more than once I've had to rely on my GPS to get me home from the local Home Depot. So, I was thankful that when I arrived in Shanghai one of my co-workers tried to make my commute as stress free as possible. She met me in the hotel lobby Monday morning and showed me how to get to the subway, where to exit, catch a cab, and even gave me a little laminated map with an address in Chinese so I could get to work the rest of the week on my own. All I had to do was hand my little map to the cab driver and say "thank you" in Mandarin, which is the only thing I remember how to say from my lessons so many years ago. It seemed to work for Helen on Monday (she even used my little map), so I decided it couldn't be too hard. Just don't lose the map, I thought to myself. Losing items is another hobby of mine, by the way. All day I checked my pocket over and over to make sure I still had it. I'd practice handing it to an invisible cab driver and saying "thank you!" That way I'd be ready for my first cab ride in Shanghai all by myself. Like a big boy.
How hard could it be, right?
Well, it could be a lot harder than I thought. When I got into the cab on Tuesday morning I handed my little map to the cabby and said "thank you," just like I had practised a dozen times the day before, that morning, and on the subway just a few moments earlier. He replied with something that sounded like "how how how." I remembered right away from my lessons this meant "yeah yeah yeah." No problem he was telling me, and off we went. Horn honking, fist shaking, and voice yelling, we flew down the street, side-walk, and even through blocked off construction zones. I'd never seen anybody drive like this before but, then again, he obviously knew where he was going. We pulled up to to a curb in the center of an empty business park about 15 minutes later and the driver spoke the only English word in his vocabulary.
"OUT!" It was at this point I discovered that "how how how" actually translates to something more like "I don't know where you're trying to go, Round Eye, but I'm going to drop you off in the middle of nowhere and let you get eaten by the stray dogs so I can take all of your money!" That's a rough translation, but I think it's accurate enough for the purposes of my situation.
This abandoned business park was not where I wanted to be. It might have been close, but I had no way of knowing. I vaguely remembered what the building looked like yesterday, but I had been so focused on practising my "hand over the little map and say thank you" routine that I hadn't paid enough attention to it. That was my mistake, and I'll take full blame for that. As this was all going through my head the cabby was getting impatient. I suppose he had places to be and other tourists to feed to the dogs. From the front seat came another loud "OUT!" and this time I replied.
"No, I don't think this is right. Can you look at the map again?" This time I spoke in English and once again handed him the map. He must have interpreted this as a rude gesture because he started yelling, probably telling me once again about the rabid stray dogs that wouldn't be hungry for much longer. I wasn't about to get out of the cab which had now become a lifeboat vital to my survival. Raising my voice over his, I shouted that I was "an American and he couldn't just go around feeding us to dogs as he saw fit." This continued back and forth for a few minutes, each time with louder voices than before until we both realised that we had no hope of resolving this conflict because I had not done my homework and learned Mandarin before my arrival. Again, my fault and I accept the blame for that, but I hardly think I deserve to be fed to a hungry pack of rabid stray dogs. So we stopped yelling.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
And there was silence.
For a long time there was silence as we stared at each other. Eventually I called Helen, my co-worker who gave me the little map, and explained to her that I thought the cabby was lost and would she please give him the directions. She said she would so I handed the phone to the driver, and she began explaining to him why he couldn't hold me for ransom. The whole process began to rewind itself at this point. First there was silence, then violent yelling fading into elevated voices, and finally a bit of sidewalk construction zone driving. Barking from the hungry pack of rabid vampire dogs faded away and as we came around a corner on two wheels I saw Helen and my heart leapt. She was diving into the street for safety (we were on the lawn coming through some hedges in what was either a shortcut or pedestrian target practice).
This played out every morning of my commute in Shanghai, and by the last day I had revised the process a bit. I'd get into the cab, hand over my little map, tell the driver "thank you," wait for his "yeah, okay, no problem," and call Helen. It had all become a mundane part of my morning routine like brushing my teeth or putting on my shoes. Who's afraid of a hungry pack of rabid vampire dogs anyway?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
A Uniquely Shanghai Experience
As I write this I'm sitting in my room on the 49th floor of the Le Meridian Hotel in Shanghai. My window overlooks People's Square and I'm enjoying a sun set as red as their national flag. It's as though the sun were saluting China as it surrenders to the cool, dark evening. From here I can see the whole park with its carnival rides, the 2010 World Expo Building, the People's Municipal Government building, and the Shanghai Museum.
The museum brings to mind the memory that shines singularly as representative of our trip. Yesterday afternoon Robyn and I were stopped by three college friends on our way into the museum. They were from just north of Beijing, visiting Shanghai for the New Year's celebration and hoped that we'd take their picture in front of the museum. They were an extremely friendly bunch, eager to hear about the US and practice their English with us. As we chatted along, the discussion flowed easily and kept up very naturally. We discussed their trip, English classes, what it's like in the US compared to Shanghai, and all sorts of cultural differences between our two great nations. Eventually we all decided to skip the museum in favor of some afternoon tea to continue our conversation. As we strolled along Nanjing Rd. we chatted excitedly and the conversation continued.
"How you think of Shanghai? Do you have places such as this in your province?"
"Does everybody own a car in your home village?"
"Do you drink lots of tea in US?"
"How much does (such and such) cost?"
"Do you listen to American rap?"
It was a lot of fun learning some Mandarin from them and we happily exchanged our lessons for a bit of English slang that doesn't get taught in their schools. We were getting to know our new friends and having the best time of our whole trip. When we arrived at the tea house my wife and I were given the seats of honor and began to learn all about the proper way to hold the cup, smell the tea, finish it in three sips (no more, no less), and proper temperatures for water.
"If you ever come to California, I'll take you wine tasting. It's really similar to this," I half-joked. As far as I can tell, it's pretty much the same. Our new friends were tea snobs who would blend smoothly into any Napa Valley wine tasting room.
The afternoon was going so well that I actually started to suspect we were being scammed. I kept a close eye on our cameras the whole time, but no one even looked them so I started to let my guard down a little. I've been told so many times that I'm too negative that I've actually started thinking about changing my attitude toward life. They say I have the power to change it, and all I have to do is allow myself to see the positive in things once in a while. So I decided this was one of those times and I relaxed a little to enjoyed the company, but still kept a close eye on our gear.
The tea hostess told us about the teas we had chosen from their menu, one being good for your finances and another for your health. Intertwined with the superstitious tea lessons, she also told us about the significance of the Chinese calligraphy on the walls, with our new friends interpreting all the way. It took a long time this way, but we weren't in any rush and wanted an experience we couldn't have paid for in a tour guide or seen in a television show. Before we left the tea house we were presented with two empty boxes beautifully decorated with Chinese calligraphy, dragons, and flowers. Each had two empty containers inside which, we were told, could be filled with the tea of our choice. Robyn and I had both liked one of the sweeter teas we had tried earlier in the afternoon, and asked for our tea box to be filled with that one. While the hostess was filling the boxes our friends mentioned that they were going to see a Chinese acrobatic show that evening and suggested that we join them. Of course we jumped at the idea, bought tickets on the spot and rushed back to our hotel to freshen up, have a quick bite to eat, and get ready for the evening.
At this point I once again expected that, perhaps, we were being scammed. I half expected to arrive at the show and find out we'd been sold fake tickets, but then again we'd paid the price printed on the ticket jacket advertisement. So again I fought my urge to expect the worst and off we went to the show. We arrived a bit early and called our friends to see where we'd meet up. Their plans had changed, and I knew for sure we'd been scammed. I couldn't decide if I was more angry or embarrassed, but in that confusion Robyn led me over to the counter and we exchanged our tickets for seat assignments. The tickets weren't fake after all. Once again reprimanding my nature we took our seats and struck up a conversation with a Belgian on my right. After the standard small talk that seems to start any conversation between two round-eyes in China, they asked me how we had come to be here at this show. I began to recite our story, but Mr. Belgian stopped me right about the time we got to the tea house. He stopped me to finish the story with the second half of his story. Indeed, we had been scammed, and it all came rushing in to me. Even though the theater was at least 80% Chinese, most of the round-eyes were sitting right in our area; we'd had different ticket covers than most of the people I'd seen in the lobby (suggesting we'd paid a different price, probably several times higher which was later supported in the extremely poor quality of the show); and the final blow to the gut. I did the quick math in my head and realized we had paid almost $200 US dollars for the tea back at the tea house.
The sun has set now and the beauty of twilight gone. People's Square is now a dark and foreign place. I think I'll stay here in my room where the TV speaks to me in perfect English, I can believe everything it tells me, and the prices are listed in USD.
The museum brings to mind the memory that shines singularly as representative of our trip. Yesterday afternoon Robyn and I were stopped by three college friends on our way into the museum. They were from just north of Beijing, visiting Shanghai for the New Year's celebration and hoped that we'd take their picture in front of the museum. They were an extremely friendly bunch, eager to hear about the US and practice their English with us. As we chatted along, the discussion flowed easily and kept up very naturally. We discussed their trip, English classes, what it's like in the US compared to Shanghai, and all sorts of cultural differences between our two great nations. Eventually we all decided to skip the museum in favor of some afternoon tea to continue our conversation. As we strolled along Nanjing Rd. we chatted excitedly and the conversation continued.
"How you think of Shanghai? Do you have places such as this in your province?"
"Does everybody own a car in your home village?"
"Do you drink lots of tea in US?"
"How much does (such and such) cost?"
"Do you listen to American rap?"
It was a lot of fun learning some Mandarin from them and we happily exchanged our lessons for a bit of English slang that doesn't get taught in their schools. We were getting to know our new friends and having the best time of our whole trip. When we arrived at the tea house my wife and I were given the seats of honor and began to learn all about the proper way to hold the cup, smell the tea, finish it in three sips (no more, no less), and proper temperatures for water.
"If you ever come to California, I'll take you wine tasting. It's really similar to this," I half-joked. As far as I can tell, it's pretty much the same. Our new friends were tea snobs who would blend smoothly into any Napa Valley wine tasting room.
The afternoon was going so well that I actually started to suspect we were being scammed. I kept a close eye on our cameras the whole time, but no one even looked them so I started to let my guard down a little. I've been told so many times that I'm too negative that I've actually started thinking about changing my attitude toward life. They say I have the power to change it, and all I have to do is allow myself to see the positive in things once in a while. So I decided this was one of those times and I relaxed a little to enjoyed the company, but still kept a close eye on our gear.
The tea hostess told us about the teas we had chosen from their menu, one being good for your finances and another for your health. Intertwined with the superstitious tea lessons, she also told us about the significance of the Chinese calligraphy on the walls, with our new friends interpreting all the way. It took a long time this way, but we weren't in any rush and wanted an experience we couldn't have paid for in a tour guide or seen in a television show. Before we left the tea house we were presented with two empty boxes beautifully decorated with Chinese calligraphy, dragons, and flowers. Each had two empty containers inside which, we were told, could be filled with the tea of our choice. Robyn and I had both liked one of the sweeter teas we had tried earlier in the afternoon, and asked for our tea box to be filled with that one. While the hostess was filling the boxes our friends mentioned that they were going to see a Chinese acrobatic show that evening and suggested that we join them. Of course we jumped at the idea, bought tickets on the spot and rushed back to our hotel to freshen up, have a quick bite to eat, and get ready for the evening.
At this point I once again expected that, perhaps, we were being scammed. I half expected to arrive at the show and find out we'd been sold fake tickets, but then again we'd paid the price printed on the ticket jacket advertisement. So again I fought my urge to expect the worst and off we went to the show. We arrived a bit early and called our friends to see where we'd meet up. Their plans had changed, and I knew for sure we'd been scammed. I couldn't decide if I was more angry or embarrassed, but in that confusion Robyn led me over to the counter and we exchanged our tickets for seat assignments. The tickets weren't fake after all. Once again reprimanding my nature we took our seats and struck up a conversation with a Belgian on my right. After the standard small talk that seems to start any conversation between two round-eyes in China, they asked me how we had come to be here at this show. I began to recite our story, but Mr. Belgian stopped me right about the time we got to the tea house. He stopped me to finish the story with the second half of his story. Indeed, we had been scammed, and it all came rushing in to me. Even though the theater was at least 80% Chinese, most of the round-eyes were sitting right in our area; we'd had different ticket covers than most of the people I'd seen in the lobby (suggesting we'd paid a different price, probably several times higher which was later supported in the extremely poor quality of the show); and the final blow to the gut. I did the quick math in my head and realized we had paid almost $200 US dollars for the tea back at the tea house.
The sun has set now and the beauty of twilight gone. People's Square is now a dark and foreign place. I think I'll stay here in my room where the TV speaks to me in perfect English, I can believe everything it tells me, and the prices are listed in USD.
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