Shanghai(ed)

Well, I've found my Washington, D.C. of China. It's called Shanghai. At only a 45 minute bullet train ride away, it is the unsurpassed weekend destination for Changzhouians. I suppose that's what we're called. Oh, and yes, I did ride a bullet train. Zipping along past apartment block after apartment block at 397 km/h (whatever that means), I was only one turtleneck and baguette away from feeling like a full fledged European. I must admit that the high speed train is one area in which the Land of the F**e and the Home of the B***e really needs to catch up. However, they do have toilet paper and soap.... So... I guess it's a tie. Except that it's not. But I digress. This bullet train eventually dropped my fellow teachers and I off in the hustling Asian bustle of Shanghai. At 16 million people, it is by far the largest city I have ever been to. When we did some sightseeing across the bay from the Bund, (that funky building that looks like the Sunsphere in Knoxville except Chinese-size) I felt like I was on that planet in Star Wars that is just one giant city. There were multiple skylines, just like L.A. Except Shanghai has even more smog. And fewer douchebags. The streets were much less crowded than I expected, which is a good thing for sure. I definitely didn't need anyone stealing my trillions of Yuan out of the knock-off Louis Vuitton wallet I had just gotten from that ancient, senile street-peddler. There was a lot of that there. And all of us White folk have a lot of financial clout in the Orient. Nothing warms the hearts of crafty Asian merchants quite like a crowd of naive college aged Americans. One glimpse at a lock of blonde hair or a pair of sunglasses and the sidewalks of Shanghai would burst with the off-key siren song that would lure us all to our financial demise- "YOU WAN BUY JEANS?!!?" "PURSES, BAGS, VEWWY GOOD PWICE!!" "SUNGRASSES, JUST YO STYLE! GOOD QUARITY!!" The best approach was to just keep walking; any sign of weakness or even the slightest interest would result in a 25 minute bartering session with a person who is trained in nothing more than the art of constantly ripping people off. The bartering was exhausting, and we all walked away knowing that we had been screwed. No matter how low the price got after incessant haggling, I was still perfectly aware that the man selling me those "True Religion" jeans was turning a handsome little profit. This is bad news to me, as China has a reputation for being the metaphorical Filene's Basement of the retail world. Or at least its TJ Maxx. The first day's shopping was exhausting and fruitless. I walked around some dimly lit hovel of a market at the request of the 5 girls I had split off with. They decided to leave after we watched an enormous rat crawl out of a shirt and up a pipe. This was, unfortunately, AFTER we had browsed that market for the better part of 4 hours. When we met up at Papa John's with the rest of the group, we were bombarded with details of their grand retail shenanigans at the Science & Technology market. Apparently, their market was rat-free. But what really piqued my interest was that they actually sold stuff for dudes. I knew where I was headed the next day. After paying 108 Yuan for pizza and Coke (which was more than the train ride to Shanghai, mind you) I decided I needed a massage. We went back to the hostel for recommendations, giving our sole stipulation- that the massage parlour NOT be a front for human trafficking, and set off to the specified address. Conveniently located behind the Kentucky Fried Chicken (which is about the most high class joint in town over here, for some reason) was by far the fanciest massage parlour I have ever seen. There were all sorts of funky Asian chandeliers, marble floors, and European-looking paintings. When my appointment time rolled around, I was told to remove my shoes and was given sandals and a weird wristband and led down the hallway. I was either about to get a massage, or be initiated into some sort of Chinese cult. Luckily for me, I was shown to a room with a velvet covered massage table and given a set of pajamas that were for some reason covered with tiny renderings of what looked like the Mitsubishi logo. My masseuse arrived, and thereby commenced the greatest 60 minutes of my life thus far. I floated to the counter and gave the clerk the equivalent of $7 USD. Now THAT is more like it. After that, it was back to the hostel. Now, seeing as this is my first time abroad, I had never had the hostel experience. I knew that hostels were typically frequented by people around my age, and they have that whole "I go backpacking in Europe" stereotype. When I saw the lounge of our hostel, I immediately made one of my trademark Snap Judgements, and wrote the entire place off as nothing more than a petri dish of petulance and pretension. Fortunately for me, I was forced to give everyone a second chance. Later in the night, I talked to some girls from Moscow and Kiev and a guy from Denmark. Everyone was just as alone and eager to meet people as I was. People were friendly and the conversation never lagged. Before I knew it, it was 2 am. People started trickling off to bed. I was just about to do the same when 4 women came up behind me and started talking. They were heavily made up, but not pretty, and enveloped in an almost visible cloud of perfume. When I asked them where they were from, they said "Vhtruisrtjin." When I informed them that I wasn't familiar with that city, one girl made an incredulous face and proceeded to mock me. "Vhat" she said "You ave never heard of Russia?!" My mistake. By your accent, I just assumed you were gargling stones. It wasn't until after they disappeared into the Shanghai streets at 3 in the morning with their miniskirts and thigh length boots that I realized I had just met my first gaggle of prostitutes. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw one of these women leave the room of a redheaded man the next morning, and walk right back out on the street. Work that corner, Olga. The next day was spent with me haggling until my throat was raw, saying the only Chinese phrases I have learned so far- "too expensive" and "don't want." As the weekend progressed, I remembered how much I loathed traveling with groups. Everyone has his or her own agenda, and this particular bunch of people is disgustingly inflexible. Also, 3 or 4 of them happened to be "Shanghai Experts" even though no one in the entire group has ever set foot in mainland China. It was nothing more than the arrogant blind leading the pissed off blind. A couple of people in particular really creamed my corn (to keep it PG) and if I was told "what we should do next" or led to the wrong subway transfer one more time, I was gonna backhand some people. Look, fool, you are from Podunk, Utah. You wouldn't know a subway if you were run over by one. When this same girl admitted 5 minutes later to never having ridden a subway, I could feel my hairs fraying. I suddenly pined for home, where I hand selected my traveling companions based on their excellent personalities, agreeability, and hilariousness. Traveling was always a breeze. I could count on my buddies to put up with my quirks, and we all had an air of mutual flexibility. DC groups, I'm talking to you. Hold your heads high, knowing you passed a series of rigorous tests with flying colors. Yes, I am that insane. But I figure if I'm going to be spending a few days in a Residence Inn with people, they had better be awesome. Too bad I didn't get to pre-screen my Chinese traveling companions... I had many Shanghai Shenanigans nonetheless. And my time in the hostel especially cemented my addiction to traveling. Couple that with the massage and I think I could really get used to this.