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.
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