18. Conquering the night sky

Five-foot and I left Shanghai’s Pudong Airport via the extremely quick Mag-Lev train, travelling at up to 433 kilometres per hour. For the eight minutes the train travelled, I watched out the window as we flew above the city’s outskirts towards the high-rise buildings. From the train terminal we boarded a subway train for the western side of Huangpu River, Shanghai’s old shopping area. Exiting onto Henan Zhonglu, we followed a walled map in the subway station, heading what we thought was south. Within a few minutes, we were both confused, as the street signs didn’t match our little map, so went back to the subway. The compass on the walled map had north pointing down, which turned out to be the problem.

We walked to a hostel nearby, the blistering heat sapping my energy, and were given a bunk and a locker each. We headed to a restaurant nearby for lunch and then walked around Renmin Square, sitting in the shade where possible. Five-foot went for a walk while I sat and had a drink, and returned to tell me he’d found somewhere for me to buy a hat.

At an underground mall nearby, I bargained myself a floppy bucket hat similar to Karl’s, hoping I’d avoid getting burnt to a crisp constantly.

The view at night from the bar of our hostel was fantastic as we faced east, across to the Pudong side of Huangpu River. Five-foot and I had a big glass of overpriced beer each while watching the constant light show that used the canvases of the globally-recognised Oriental Pearl Tower, the Jinmao Tower, and the other high-rises around the central city.

Interspersed with other billboard announcements, one building broadcasted giant television style Coke ads starring a Taiwanese girl-band called S.H.E. who were making their mark on the Asian music scene. Lights climbing the Pearl Tower continuously changed the colour of Shanghai’s most famous skyline attraction, which looks like an inverted hypodermic needle. It looked like a spaceship straight from the set of a Flash Gordon movie all ready for takeoff.

Light pollution filled the sky, while overcast grey clouds intermittently reflected the pinks and blues from the public broadcasts. Any contemplation of stars and the moon wouldn’t lead to any such sight from here. Shanghai’s modernisation was taking upon itself the spellbinding of the people, leaving the stars to generations past.

Cruise ships and transport barges coasted up and down the calm river, blinking their own illuminations out to the world. People on board the cruises could be seen dancing, dining and drinking while the barges were less lively. Dark silhouettes watching the same light shows as us sat on piles of what could’ve been coal or rubbish.

Flashes constantly caught my eye from the footpaths on the opposite side of the river as photographers, both professional and amateur, from the Pudong vantage took in the views we sat amongst.

The Bund, on the western side of the river, is home to early twentieth century buildings constructed during the foreign control of the city. These buildings are also illuminated in the evening, although without the fanfare of the modern drama across the river.

Of the others drinking with us, a young British traveller had a copy of Mao’s Little Red Book. He’d bought it from a tout on the street and liked to flip to a random page and read a little when in need of inspiration.

“If the rice crop fails, we shall plant again,” he quoted, nodding an agreement.

We all raised our glasses to that. The country certainly has sewn a metaphorical new crop of rice for themselves in the past couple of decades.

The next day, Five-foot and I went for a tour of the city via the subway to the south and west. We got lost on the way from the underground trains to the light-rail and ventured around the parks, streets and alleys of an unknown area of the city. Five-foot blamed me for the mix-up, as time and time again, whenever I said I knew where we were, we’d end up lost within a few minutes again. Finally, we got out of the scorching sunlight and made it to the elevated light-rail train station. As the train left, we could see to the west, on the central city side of the tracks, pristine high-rise estates with large communal squares full of people playing sports such as badminton, exercising, flying kites and relaxing in tree shade. To the outer-city side of the tracks, massive piles of rubble and waste surrounded old, derelict buildings in varying states of disrepair. The separation of housing standards, at least in these areas, was dramatically divided by the train tracks.

We arrived at Shanghai Train Station, a central hub where we boarded an underground train and headed for Pudong, the other side of the river. To end the day, we headed to Jinmao Tower, as standing on the platform at the top is one of the must do sightseeing ventures of Shanghai.

We exited the station, looking up to see several tall buildings surrounding us. Between the buildings was space like I hadn’t seen in most central cities. We walked to the tower past green lawns and gardens that served as breakwaters between the huge edifices reaching to the sky.

The sign at Jinmao Tower stated it was Y100 to get to the viewing platform on the eighty-eighth floor. We both noted that blue skies and sunlight were absent and the top of the building was obscured by the mixture of cloud and clogged up smoke pollution that hadn’t lifted from the city since we had arrived.

“We’re not gonna see much from up there,” Five-foot said, his nose pointed to the sky. I grunted in agreement.

“Skip it?” he asked, “or grab a beer?”

The guidebook suggested that a bar on the fifty-third floor was free to get to. The views are on sale for the price of a drink. And we thought about it for barely a moment.

The ride up in the elevator was quick as fifty-three floors in half a minute makes for a fair rate of ascent. We were led to a seat with a view of the western city reaching into the distance. Huang Pu River wound from the base of the Tower stretching to the foot of a dirt haze, smudging the city beyond and rising directly up into the heavens, a boundary for the view from the Tower’s vantage point. To the immediate west, the river dissected the central city separating the old buildings of the western shore, established during European involvement in the early 20^th century, from the developing Pudong area to the east, which includes the Tower. Along the river to the south of the older European structures, buildings had been flattened, rubble and demolish waste piled around the area in preparation for modern Shanghai’s ever-expanding set of high-rises.

A lounge act practiced over Five-foots shoulder, preparing for busier times as we were delivered two bottles of Hoegarden. The beer prices were exorbitant, to say the least. Y130 for two bottles, including a service charge, would nearly have wrecked me but for the establishment we had chosen to patron.

We had both been walking for hours in the hot, humid Shanghai summer day, carrying bags and generally sweating profusely. I felt uncomfortable and was scared that I smelt like margarine left out of the fridge too long. Five-foot comforted me by saying I shouldn’t be scared of who I am. With beer consumed and comfortable couch seats to sink ourselves into, we quietly waited for the waitress to ask us to buy another or leave.

“A tick in the box?” I asked, savouring the taste of a beer that had just cost me over twelve New Zealand dollars.

“Yeah,” Five-foot said, “close enough for me.”

The next day, Five-foot wanted to visit the Shanghai Museum in Renmin Square. I had visited quite a few museums since arriving so it wasn’t really for the exhibits but for the culture clash with the Chinese people that I went.

I don’t stand very close to the artefacts. I like to stand back, take in the whole exhibit and allow others the ability to read signs and information while I do so. This, I guess, is quite common for Kiwi’s as it is for many others in the world.

Doing so in Chinese museums invited people to stand in front of me. It was uncountable the number of times people walked in front of me while I read a sign or looked at an artefact and would stand directly in front of me. It was incredibly irritating and predictable.

Of course, my opinion was that Chinese people that do this are just rude but maybe they thought I was standing in the middle of the floor, getting in the road and being rude in my own way.

On this particular visit I got sick of people doing this, so stood as close to the displays as possible. I failed to see the benefit of it. I suppose Chinese people and myself seek different views of perspective, literally. No matter how close I stood, I still had people trying to squeeze between my nose and the glass barriers. It could’ve been a set-up. I did wonder if Five-foot was paying people to do it.

After another day in Shanghai, having a beer and reading, we left for Hangzhou, in the southeast.