Welcome to My Tutoring Family

One of the luckiest things that happened to me here in Shanghai was the result of responding to a flyer advertising a position as a private tutor for a young Chinese girl. A man named Peng had a daughter named Julie and they were searching for a young lady whose native language was English. In the time it took for me to say

                            – ‘Hey, that’s me!’  

                                                              they had enveloped me into their family and their routine, and now I find I have a lovely place in their hearts. Of course, and they in mine.

Each week, once or twice, I cycle to their family home around the corner from my university, just after dinner time. I teach Julie English for an hour or so, and then Peng teaches me English until we tire. Without fail, each time I arrive and kick my boots off at the door, Julie greets me with a new compliment she has learned.

     ‘Hello, Brianna. My, you look so beautiful today.’

     ‘Good evening, Brianna. Oh my, you look so fit today.’

     ‘Hi, Brianna. Gee you look so pretty today.’

I slip into my special slippers, am offered a cup of tea or coffee or warm homemade vegetable juice, and we sit on the couch together to begin practice.

I can still remember the first time I met Peng and Julie, when it was still freezing cold and raining almost every night. They met me at the gate of the university and we walked together to their home. Julie hardly spoke a word of English to me, and was incredibly shy. Her father fought against this introverted nature with a mix of firmness and encouragement, and by the end of that evening she spoke one full sentence to me. I was worried that I would have to spend a lot of time teaching Julie to feel confident enough to speak, before we could even begin to work on grammar or pronunciation. By the end of an hour or so I was exhausted from encouraging her so much – constantly reassuring this young girl took a lot of effort – I’m honestly usually not very good with children.

Julie. Delightful.

I also remember on this first evening, that on our walk back to the university (they insisted on walking me back home through the wind and rain) Peng encouraged me to try and talk to them in Chinese. I was reluctant and self-depreciating. I had only been in China a couple of weeks at this stage, and my tongue felt like sand in my mouth, trying to wrap it’s way around the tones and unique vowel sounds. I was so embarrassed by my poor skills that I reverted to asking them questions about themselves to avoid having to speak. Of course I didn’t realise it at the time, but July was probably wondering how long it would take me to stop acting like a buffoon and just speak. Hindsight never ceases to render me humbled.

After just a few short weeks, we were all much more relaxed around each other, and we were quick to realise that we all simply enjoyed each other’s company. Their house had a wonderful feeling of home-ness that I yearned for, and missed horribly. It is the feeling that comes from peacefulness and love filling a place. Sitting on a comfortable couch, in the warm yellow dusk light, smelling a recently eaten dinner, hearing the reassuring bustle noises from parents as you continue with your books. Each second you exist within this space, you are loved. I am drawn back to this house each week now, not only for its occupants, but for the gentle reminder it gives me of my life back home. The reassurance that I will always be my mother’s daughter and my father’s child. The sentimentality hits me every time I am on that couch. Without fail.

Julie is a very focused, studious young girl. She has classes every day of the week, and mathematics is her favourite because it is 'so interesting'. She does not remind me of myself at all. On paper, Julie may perhaps appear to me the stereotypical perfect Asian student, tunnel-visioned and lacking balance in life, but I have come to know her well, and she has passions and amusements like all children do. I quietly encourage her to play more, ask her if she would like to learn an instrument, join a sport team or go somewhere on the weekend instead of class again. She considers my suggestions and earnestly replies with a contented inclination to continue with life the way it is now. It appears my guerilla tactics of moulding a mini-me are not only useless, but unnecessary. Another reminder of my unsuitability to parenthood, hahaha...

The view from their window, and their lovely couch, and them.

Julie and I make jokes and laugh with each other now. I tease her and she laughs at me. It is comfortable. Peng and I have found a place of mutual respect, and we treat each other as equals. We both realise that we have a lot to learn from each other. I am still at an age where I feel flattered and truly appreciate adults treating me as an equal.

I have learned a lot from Peng. He answers my questions with patience and interest, and from knowing him I have gained a keen insight into Chinese life that I would otherwise not have a window to. Each week I know more about a Chinese individual’s relationship to their government, the popular opinion of the state of their country, a Chinese person’s ideas about the Western world, and how all of these factors interact with each other. I know the workings of the Chinese educational system, the traffic, the censorship, the farming, the one-child policy and the history. I do my best to respond with a face of earnest learning – I can now effectively contain my disdain at conversational content which breaches the morally questionable aspects of life here. I will always think long and hard, by myself, after these evenings, filtering his opinions through my own mental sieve. I will never cease to be amazed at how the government here can infiltrate the foundational beliefs and concepts of each individual’s mind. Peng is certainly not oblivious, and we talk earnestly, but our conversation always reaches a point where I begin to understand the workings of a Chinese mind compared to that of my own. These evenings have informed my attitude to this country almost as much as my own travelling has. I cannot overemphasise these lessons. The inform every part of my life here. Each new interaction.

Sometimes they give me lovely presents as I leave. I have received three pawpaws, two tubs of yoghurt, one box of sesame seed biscuits and three litres of milk altogether. These are all things I appreciate to an incredible degree. They get such delight from seeing how much milk makes me happy. When I arrive for a meal with them I take a gift. Flowers or some pyjamas for Julie. They appear almost embarrassed. I feel that perhaps I am insulting them in some way, but I am yet to understand these super-intricate parts of guest/host culture. Needless to say, Julie loves her pyjamas. I explained that in Australia dinner guests will often bring the host a small gift (wine, flowers and the like) as thanks for the meal, and this puts them at ease.

Peng in his apron with his juice.

The dinners they cook are wonderful! I am a vegetarian and so they prepare several kinds of vegetable dishes and learn all the English names of the ingredients to talk to me about them at the table. Peng cooks, as they assure me that he is better than his wife at preparing vegetable dishes. She specialises in the meat ones. Peng has a great apron, too. At certain times in Chinese culture, gender roles are very specific and present. At other times, men can wear frilly pink aprons when they cook. I am yet to learn the specifics of these definitions...

They make their own vegetable juices which might sound gross, but are incredible. Don’t mock hot, fresh, homemade pumpkin juice until you’ve tried it. They don’t like the ‘supermarket drinks’ as they call them (soft drinks or sugary juices or flavoured milks) and so have become totally pro at an amazing repertoire of homemade beverages including carrot juice, pumpkin juice, sweet potato juice, pawapaw juice and (my personal favourite) sweetcorn juice. They have a great machine that heats it as well. The glasses of this magical elixir are completely natural and somewhat akin to soup. I wish I could make it at home. At each meal they remark at my native-level chopstick abilities, of which I am certainly proud. They are incredulous at anything I can do that is remotely Chinese. Receiving this encouragement is enough to bring me back each week – it makes me realise how much I have always relied on my parents for reassurance.

Dinner this Sunday just passed - and the juices!

 The catalyst for me finally telling you about my great adopted family is the particular meal I shared with them on Sunday. The invitation was extended to my awesome Finnish friend Hanna, and we went together to their house for a lovely dinner. After eating way too much we found ourselves somehow playing with stuffed toys on their couch. We gave the toys names and voices and silly hand actions. Julie was in fits of laughter! She was encouraging us to continue and giving us new, bigger toys to play with her with, clearly in sheer delight at this situation and the three of us carried on enjoyably for at least an hour. It felt incredible to revert to such childlike behavior, and to have that behavior appreciated. It is a sad reminder of what it lost (despite the overwhelming benefits) of the one-child policy. Julie has never had siblings to play with. I was more than happy to oblige. Hahaha!

Julie’s English has also improved greatly. As well as speed and vocabulary and pronunciation, she has gained incredible confidence and a willingness to try and speak what she wants to say, instead of what she has already learnt. They also watch a show called "Crazy English" where they learn American slang. The best to-date is 'Damn, the computer crashed again!' - which is yelled out toward the cieling melodramatically, as are all 'Crazy English' classes. It's brilliant. I am so proud of how far she has come. Likewise, on good evenings, I can now almost successfully communicate entirely in Chinese with Peng. I learn ‘real’ Chinese from them.

Our weekly interactions are the very definition of ‘exchange’. They make me more positive about all the bigger things in life.

Underground Shopping...

Today we got off the metro at People's Square for a lovely brunch. On our way back we decided to have a look around the shops in that strange, underground, limbo section of the station... Strange is what we found...

 It all began with a sleeping beggar.

 Apparently it's ok to have frightening stuffed cats in the window of handbag stores?
THAT IS SO NOT OKAY.

 The whole thing is actually underground... It's like a casino with no windows or clocks. We were actually in there for 26 hours. We thought we spent about two hours there, but when we finally emerged into the sunlight once more, we realised we had been lost for a whole day. I am told this is not an uncommon phenomena.

 At one shop, we waited at the counter while the girl went next door to get change, and saw that she had a portrait of Hilary Duff on her desk. Hahahhahahahahhahahahahahhahah etc etc.

 IGNORE THE INFLUENCE RELAX! GARH
Hahahahahaahhahahahahha... I'll be sure to, thanks.

If you're not careful, though, small pencil cases will INSRST ON TOUCHING YOU. Keep your eyes peeled and your wits about you, ladies.

Welcome to the view from my only window.

Should be more appropriately titled: Welcome to the view from any window in Shanghai.

This was what I left home for?

Horse Trek from Hell - Part 5

Apparently having smelt the food, (impossible considering it was a black hole of flavour and situated in the middle of a room-sized chimney) another man joined us, baring a gappy and black but enthusiastic grin as he pointed to the pot. He murmured some mumbo jumbo away at us, but mainly just to himself. He was wearing a cleaners’ uniform and carried the standard-issue rubbish-grabbing-tongs found all over China (yes, even in places where you can’t breathe long enough to consider littering).

Anyway, he was happy. He was also dirty.

Not that I was in a position to judge others on hygiene at this point in time, but seriously, this guy was REALLY DIRTY. If I didn’t feel like vomiting before, I sure did now that I was stuck in a trance gazing at the muddy talons where his fingernails should have been. The irony of him being a cleaner was not lost on me, but laughing would mean passing out or throwing up, so I kept it inside.

A sigh of satisfaction reverberated through the room, signaling the cucumbers a la cucumbers had finished cooking. At this point in time, a loaf of bread keenly resembling a rock was retrieved from god-knows-where and the cleaner, in his excitement, gave his nose a good rub then ripped the bread/rock into quarters with his bare hands. Or should I say, bare crusty paws.

I was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming sensation of really, truly, just wishing I was dead.

I just felt so bloody crap in every part of my body. Altitude. My brain was so swollen is was pushing against every millimeter of my skull, trying to squish itself out from my thumping ears as if only, just now, realising it was in Alcatraz with a handful of fireworks. I would wager money that the various contents of my stomach were so filled with bacteria that they had mixed together to form an organism with a Khan-like consciousness, which was now waging war against the walls of my abdomen. My lungs were like fish in the bottom of a boat as it comes into moor who, having gasped for oxygen and flapped desperately for attention for too long, now come to an ugly blinking restlessness. Trying to cleanse itself of phlegm waves, my throat coughed until it sent itself hoarse and raspy. The blood running through my body was itchy and stung. The two legs underneath me no longer felt like my own, having been beaten with a wooden mallet only slightly softer than the one that beat my feet. Pus from my infected knee was oozing through it’s crusty broken scab and onto my pants. Making a new stain, just to the left of the dried blood on my long johns.

Altitude sickness is your body trying to turn itself inside out. Everything on the inside of you is trying to force its way to the outside of you. Almost as if you have been sucked out of the airlock and into space. You would instantly implode – your body turning completely inside out in a millisecond. Altitude sickness feels like a slow motion version of this. As though that millisecond has been lengthened by several hundred trillion, so that you can experience it for days. Altitude sickness can be lethal, and the long term side effects of survivors are serious, like cerebral edema.

Thus, there was no escape for me from this place, or this time, or these feelings. I had only the consolation that altitude sickness is a genetic disposition – and no amount of fitness or physical preparation could have prevented this visit to the land of corpses. I owe an ocean of gratitude to my friend Hanna who encouraged me to take some tea and eat some bread and cucumber, because fighting the urge to vomit for long enough to swallow rewarded me with a burst of strength a half hour later which, more than anything, saved my morale.

Also, for the record, those cucumbers were one of the tastiest things I have ever eaten in China.

So now, we are all feeling a little better with food in our bellies. Food meant I could also take some medication, and I kept it all down. Pro! So now our attention is turned to the mystery of where the hell we are, and what our ‘tickets’ paid for. Some kind of nature reserve, apparently, famous for it’s lakes. There are pictures on our tickets of lakes that look like those from Jiuzhaigou. Probably just stole actual Jiuzhaigou images though, so I don’t let myself get too excited. There must be a reason for the carpark being ENTIRELY empty. 

     ‘You ready go now?’ Our guide asks us.

     ‘Yes!’ We reply surprisingly enthusiastically.

     ‘Ok then go now.’ He says. 

So we wait for him to get the horses. We stand around for about ten minutes, still nothing. We look around, trying to find him, still nothing. We call out to him another ten minutes later, still nothing. Five minutes after that we saw him sitting in the room, unmoved, chatting to the cleaner–

     ‘Are we going to go now?’ We asked him impatiently.

     ‘What you want?’ He was confused.

     ‘To go look around the park!’ This was just silly.

     ‘So you go!’ He replied loudly.

     ‘But we need the horses!’ We reasoned.

     ‘Why?’

     ‘What?’

     ‘What?’

     ‘We want the horses!’

     ‘Is path there. Horse is done.’

Ooooohhh. Hahahahah. Silly us, thinking that we would get to ride horses on a horse trek. Isn’t that a ridiculous idea! What were we thinking? Too much ‘logic’, not enough ‘China’.

So we set off on foot. In search of magical lakes. It’s a pretty long walk. Finally we find the ‘attraction’. You’ll never guess this. It’s a massive lake.

And no water.

Yeah. We just came all this way for empty lakes.

Pale Skin + Postcards

It has come to that time in Shanghai when everybody pulls out their shorts and tshirts. We happily stow our scarves and coats away, welcoming the spring with a certain sense of fickleness. Winter was a lovely cool friend early on, but with time we all grew tired of its chill. We will sing the praises of spring until she leaves us for summer, then once again damn the heat for making us sweat. It is only natural to crave a change of weather.

These days, right now, are the satiation of that craving. The perfect few weeks which leave us with nothing to complain about.

Looking around me each day now, I see more colours in nature with each bike ride, more people outside with each bored glance out the classroom window and I can feel more happiness around me. Pairs of legs drag their owners outside to enjoy the sun, eyes squint and smiles widen and skin browns. I feel like things might just be ok. Almost as if humans are designed for this weather.

I arrived in Shanghai in the middle of winter, freezing nights and grey days. Being a Brisbane girl, I was not used to the kind of cold that never leaves you. Despite however many layers I wore, I found myself never truly warm. My bones could not thaw. I was in a constant state of slight discomfort. My shoulders hunch and my arms stay close to my body. I am not myself.

I feel like cold is a hindrance to happiness. When I am wearing winter clothes I cannot ride a bicycle comfortably, or lie on the grass, or climb over a fence. Cold days mean wind and rain, so nothing can be done outdoors. Grey skies get me down. I can't help it. It's an Australian thing, perhaps? I am not myself when the weather is so gloomy. I can only skulk in cafes so much, I can only buy so many scarves, even hot chocolate becomes tiresome.

I did not realise, however, that the weather was getting me down quite so much until it changed. As each day grew gradually warmer I felt my spirit warm too. With each day Shanghai was, and is, feeling more and more like home. I can wear the clothes I wore in Australia, I can eat outside on the grass as though I were in Australia, and I can ride a bike anywhere I want - anytime. It is the freedom that weather brings that I so strongly respond to. In the snow I cannot simply do as I please, but now every day presents new possibilities.

Whilst thinking of this, I began (as I often do) thinking of home in all its facets. I have never been away from my family for this long, and their absence certainly has my heart growing fonder. I have been blessed to find excellent new friends here, but now and again we all crave the company of those who know us well - the knowledge that we can relax in the unconditional affections of someones presence.

So, whilst on this particularly loving whim, I began my next postcard send-out. The last one was this in Cambodia, and so I thought I might try something a little more ambitious...

Perhaps it was a little too ambitious... I'm only half way through!!!

I used anything 2D I could get my hands on including maps, magazines, menus, music and more. (It is a complete coincidence that all those things start with the letter M.) I got myself high from so much glue and am now suffering from several severe paper cuts. I hope you appreciate this sacrifice.

Also, I thank the people in Shanghai for putting up with my unbearably pale skin. It will be this way for at least a fortnight. When in direct sunlight my upper arms and legs may blind you, this can be avoided with polarised sunglasses.

Welcome to Fudan Campus

The campus of my university here is really quite beautiful. Thanks to the multitude of trees and grassy areas it's actually nice to jog around. These pictures are from my jogging route and my path to class.

So many perfect little pot flowers everywhere!
It's beautiful, but clearly needs a lot of maintenance.

Every campus has a statue of Mao Zedong. We refer to him as "Big Mao".
Mao's pose is reflective of the educational institution, because the 'best'
kind of Mao, is the one where his hand is outstretched into a long salute. However,
this can only be achieved with engineers. Thus, if the university has a saluting Mao,
it has a higher status because it has good engineers. Fudan Mao is not saluting...
BUMMER, DUDE!

I love the constant reminders that I am in China.
This man could wear any hat, but he chose this one. Champion.
Also, check out his wagon!

These are the dormitories where the international students (me) live.
They are small and crumbling and cold, but we are all together.
We have special guards at our gate checking student cards,
but often at night they fall asleep and we run past, giggling.

At the bottom of the apartment buildings on the left of the picture above,
there are small basements. I went down once, they are really quite frightening.
They all connect to each other in this big underground labyrinth...
Occasionally, though, the staff get together for lunch down there.
You can hear their babbling and laughing from a mile away. It's lovely.

Welcome to ...

I have really recieved a lot of questions about my day-to-day life in China.

When I began this blog I was determined to leave out the small happenings of my general life, out of fear of appearing too self-important and douchy. I have only reported on the big adventures and actual travellings. (I  would like to be able to think that I write about my experiences, as oppose to myself.)                                                                                  

I am beginning to realise, however, that there is a reason people keep asking me about the 'daily grind' here. There are so many things that happen and that happen to me on such a regular basis that might not occur anywhere else in the world. They have become ordinary occurrences for me now, but I can remember they seemed so foreign when I first arrived. Perhaps people want to know about these as well? I'm also keenly aware that I only have a month left where I am now, and I want to document this place for my own memories and records.

On that note, I decided to begin a 'Welcome to ..." mini-series of posts that give some insight into my life here. Life in its normal form, in Shanghai, as a student at college, studying at Fudan University. It will be mostly images, with a few captions. I want to be able to see these things in a few years time. I also want you to see what I see.

If this doesn't appeal to you, you can skip the posts altogether by seeing the 'Welcome to' topic. I hope this disclaimer means you all still think I'm an adventuring badass. I'm presuming that people who think I'm not an adventuring badass would have no interest in this blog whatsoever, seeing as it is mostly comprised of my badass adventures.

So here is what badasses do Mon-Fri.

Horse Trek from Hell - Part 4

After two hours of flailing and failing and falling, I was just about ready to give up. Like, really give up. I mean, stop and just refuse to go on. I would fall once more, but not rise again. The mud would envelop me and silently I would disappear. A hundred years in the future a yak will accidentally uncover my jaw bone, and it will be added to the pile of anonymous remains the locals collect. As I was pondering and creating this future, I kept walking, and in a few more minutes we reached a summit.

Couldn’t believe our eyes.

A highway.

A goddamned highway.

Why the bloody hell did we slug ourselves all this way up and down mountains and ravines, get covered in shit and freeze our asses off when we could have taken a ten minute taxi? Ten minutes. In comfort. The air must have scrambled our brains long before we started the trek. Speaking of which, I was shaking and feeling weak by this stage. The pressure on my eardrums meant I could hear my own blood pumping, and I was breathing far too loudly for someone still standing upright. (At least I was upright most of the time.)

So anyways, despite believing for the last two hours of trekking that we were in the middle of nowhere, a quick, mini-descent saw us on tarmac once more. So much for ‘getting away from it all’. I realise now, that when in China, you can never get away from China. Now that we were on flat ground in an area that no longer threatens us with all manner of deaths, we are (surprise surprise) allowed to remount our horses. Now we ride for about half an hour along the road, occasionally passing construction workers, often passing yaks, frequently passing nothing at all.

Rounding a bend, we are presented with an expanse of concrete with white painted rectangles on it, in front of some small wooden structures and a block of toilets. In my oxygen-deprived confusion it took a few minutes to realise that one of the buildings was a ticket office/lunch room and the gaping flat patterned area was in fact a completely empty carpark. Now we had to buy tickets from the little crumbling old shack/hut/thing, what the tickets were for, we had no idea. Then we finally figured out that we would actually be staying in one of these small wooden almost-rooms for the night.

This part is good – I’m going to tell you about the room I stayed in. To start with, I can almost guarantee it was the size of your bathroom. It had the following cozy features; bales of hay in one corner, a lightbulb that didn’t work hanging from a bare wire, a door that didn’t close properly and a single, filthy memory-of-a-mattress that was obviously made when Confucious was still rambling the countryside. The sun was setting when were introduced to this new humble abode and I, for one, was glad to not be able to see the finer details of the space. With a big imagination being almost painfully stretched, this could possibly be considered a little bit quaint? Yeah, maybe when it was first built! About a millennium ago! The floorboards were thick and uneven with dark maroon rusty old nails, the window was done in classic countryside style, it smelt like a farm, and the small size of the space promised the potential of some warmth containment.

On the wall facing the bed, positioned as if it were the highlight of the space (to be admired and appreciated from anywhere in the room) was a large laminated poster which could not have possibly been more misplaced. It depicted two white-to-the-point-of-Aryan toddlers on a big cream couch with a fluffy puppy. It had been taken in the 90’s with that customary (read: vomit-worthy) pastel palette and photoshopped faded edges for dream-like effect. You know the look I mean. Like those photos of babies in pumpkins that parents pull out to horrify their children 21 years later. Yeah. Those ones.

I digress.

Swallowing the figurative spew in my mouth (actually, I really was also so sick I felt like throwing up) I was distracted by our guide bounding gleefully towards us with something shiny in his mud-crusted clutches. Like an excited golem with a fragile ‘precious’, he squeezed into the space and fumbled with the light fixture (or lack thereof). I was admiring the intent plastered on his face and staring directly at his hands before I realised what he was doing and when the new lightbulb burst into light, my brains exploded out my eyeballs in pain and I groaned, gasping for air and groping around blindly for something to steady myself. When I could finally see my eyelids and conceptualise what was beyond them, I opened them and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Dust particles mingled through the air undoubtedly at a higher concentration to oxygen. Spider webs held the vertical wooden planks together with more integrity than the screws, and the mattress was so stained that I could not distinguish its original colour from the magnificent spectrum of nondescript browns. Perhaps this was not real. Perhaps I had in fact passed out on my horse an hour earlier because of the altitude sickness, fallen down the mountain and bonked my head on a boulder, and this is a special kind of hell reserved for arrogant losers who think they can handle ‘real China’. Yeah. That is a much more likely scenario, because I wouldn’t sleep here if it was the only bomb shelter in 1945 Hiroshima.

The temperature was steadily dropping, and I could distinguish hunger pangs amongst the other painful abdominal-area feelings I was experiencing, and so we were ushered a few meters from our new nest into a very dark, but pleasantly warm room. Again, with the primary sense of sight removed, my nose became keen and sneezed itself in indignation against the sudden assault of woody smoke. I was instantly transported back home to the moments of crouching in front of a burgeoning fire mid winter. Opening the thick glass door to the fireplace, hurriedly casting a pinecone to the flames, just to hear it crackle. Shutting and fastening the door again, I would lean back onto the soft carpet and stuff my face with almost-melted chocolate, licking my fingertips just in time for my puppydog to come lay against my side. Closing my eyes to the sound of the wondrously repetitive television show, I would slowly drift off to sleep – keenly aware that when I woke up everything would be exactly the same. I lived in a small world full of love that I loved living in every day.

My eyes adjusted in time to realise that I had left that lovely world for one where it was filthy and cold and so foreign and so feral that animal legs and dried sausages hung from the wall, and overflowing ashtrays spilled onto about-to-be-used chopsticks and more brown splotchy things kept trying to be pillows. Unmarked bottles of cloudy liquid balanced on shelves and a freaky dog shaped clock sat on top of a rusting (yes, rusting) television set – neither of which appeared to work.

The next interesting thing to keep me from passing out was the re-appearance of our guide, and his miraculous metamorphosis into a chef. Our afternoon meal consisted of cucumbers and then some cucumbers, and to spice things up – a few more cucumbers. These cucumbers were chopped with an old knife pulled from a box on the ground, dumped into a pot on top of the fire, and flavoured with salt, chilli, Sichuan pepper and some more cucumbers. A big scoop of cold water from a bucket next to our feet was added to the pot, and as the sizzling noise burst into the room, I felt my stomach knot itself into knowing position of not-too-positive anticipation.

I sat down for a few minutes to try and catch my breath. This attempt failed. In this room, smoke was apparently the new valuable commodity chosen to replace oxygen levels in the air. It had been decided that warmth was of prime concern, and a feeding wood to a fire that consumed oxygen was more important than my ability (read: inability) to do so. We waited in silence for the cucumbers to cook.

Chongming Isl.

Today I went to Chongming Island and all I got was this yo-yo.

But it's a SUPER YOYO FLAMING DRAGON.
So actually the trip out was worth it.

The island was pretty much built for the expo and is advertised as an eco-island perfect for tourists. There weren't supposed to be many cars or big buildings and cycling around the natural areas is supposed to be a highlight. This is all a big lie. Chongming looks exactly like the rest of China: 

It takes a long time to get there and isn't cheap, so here's a tip, DON'T GO.

So we left early and went to Helen's instead - the local pub where all the Fudan university students go. They do cheap drinks and reasonable food. Its popularity is not a mystery. The writings on the walls and ceiling are also particularly amusing...

Yeah baby, thatth id. Righd there. Very nithe...

from the artist

This is too great not to post - as soon as I got home from buying the print, I sent the artist an email. I told him I had just bought the piece and that I love his works and his website is great etc etc... I honestly didn't expect to receive a response, but I did. My favourite part of it was this:

"Thank you for your words and I m so appreciate that you like my works, it really make me a day."

If you wanna take a look at Shan's work and be inspired enough to 'make him a day', here is where you should go.

Greatest Day Ever. Ever.

Today had to be one of the greatest days ever, I cannot believe how happy I am right now and how the world can possibly be this wonderful. I feel compelled to share the entire day with you, so if you don't wanna read the ramble - I will put good captions on all the pics and you can just browse those... 

To begin with, my best friend here has a friend from Finland visiting, and so we had a wonderful excuse to become tourists in our own city once more. It's incredible how you can become so accustomed to things which are easily available. The arrival of a guest refreshed our perspectives. On the way out of the house I recieved wonderful mail from an excellent friend (more Cambodia-style postcards from me are on the way... promise!) and we caught a taxi once more to Tianzifang in the French Quarter.

Tianzifang in the French Quarter is a wonderful oasis of boutiques and fine dining.

Old, original brick walls make for a wonderful atmosphere throughout the area.

It's incredible that they still use bamboo scaffolding throughout China
- even in western areas.

Tianzifang is tucked away from the bustle, behind the street front, and is quite an expansive labrynth of alleyways. There are two gates to access the space (fire hazard???) and I'm tempted to say it's somewhere you can't find unless you know where it is... Full of charm and just the right amount of luxury - obviously popular place with expats.

The first stop was Origin organic cafe for breakfast... We were so famished I didn't remember to take pictures before be tucked in! But I had some incredible eggs benedict and we all had bowls of coffee and carrot juice. There is no better way to start a morning than a fancy breakfast...

Origin organic cafe - wondrously healthy and oh so chic.

With good fuel I had the courage to return to an small art gallery I visited last week... I had seen a print that I just fell in love with immediately by Shanghai artist Shan Jiang. It just took my breath away and I could NOT stop staring at it... but it was not cheap and I thought I'd better think about it before rushing in. When I returned home, though, I banged my head on the wall so hard for not buying it! It was so special and it was just love at first sight! I wanted it - I NEEDED IT. But I knew I had to wait a week until I could make it back, and panic gripped me for those 7 long days in case somebody else bought it...

I returned to the store with such dread. I was so nervous, but I rounded the corner and saw the familiar turquoise and my heart leapt for joy! It was waiting for me faithfully, as if it had guarded itself against unworthy buyers...

The front of the gallery where I bought the latest addition to my collection. It's a great gallery we always go to - very conceptual and thought-provoking, yet youthful. There is also clearly an asian influence to the works, without forcing a sense of tradition that often come with Chinese art in particular. The artists personify the contemporary wolrd art scene.

The print I bought was this, and on request of the artist, each buyer must have their photo taken beside the purchased work. I think it's a wonderful idea - the artist can see who their audience is and understand what kinds of people are drawn not only to their works as a whole, but what kind of individuals buy which particular prints... This was my picture - I hope it would make Shan proud...

Mine is the one on the left, but I want you to see and example of his other work too.
Please have a look at his website! (I linked it on his name earlier.)

I had to buy it unframed, and it will be delivered to me tomorrow in an art cannister for the airoplane flight home. I will have it framed in Brisbane as similar to this original form as possible. I am so excited to get it back home and on my wall. The piece is so reminiscent of my time so far in Shanghai...

The rabbits - this is the year of the rabbit. The location I bought it in - almost each weekend we go for brunch. The pose of the girl - classic 'asian squat' found all over this country from toddlers to ancient old people. The single-colour sceme - a big factor in most traditional Chinese artwork. And most importantly, the confusion.

I don't understand why there is a half bathroom in a tree floating in space. Why is this girl bathing so many rabbits? Why does she have cat ears? Is there some significance of a cat bathing a rabbit? Why does the floor appear to be a reflection of the wall? Why is it all crumbling away? Why are there clouds in the background? - WHO KNOWS. Not me, thats for sure, and I can't think of a better notion than confusion to sum up my time in China so far.

Moving on... we took a trip to the fake markets near Nanjing Rd. I haven't been to these markets since arriving in China because I was trying to avoid adding too much more weight to my already-far-too-heavy baggage. We were showing our guest around, though, and they are such a classic part of a westerner's idea of China that we couldn't leave them out of our grand tour.

Baby booties at the markets -
makes me wish I had neices and nephews!!!

No Calvin Kleins here,
but maybe some nice Candy Kirvin???

SO MANY BAGS.
SO MANY MIDDLE-AGED WHITE WOMEN.

Just be careful when looking around a small stall,
that you don't wake the owner's baby!

One of those classic I-don't-wanna-know things...
I also want to make clear that I was taking this
photo and did not touch the garment at all.
Hanna did.

"Enhance the protection of intellectual property rights
to legitimise and standardize the order of
market economy" - is what the poster on the ceiling
in the FAKE market says. Sure thing gov.
You've got yourself some incredibly effective adverts there...

  

These are the goodies I brought home. Let it be known that this booty examples incredibly self restraint... I wanted SO much more!

What I bought from the markets:

1. A beautiful leather handbag.
Purple and tan leather, with an inner (removable) small puch/bag.

2. A pair of 'Beats, by Dr. Dre' headphones for jogging.
I'm told they're unbeatable for bass.

3. Another (yes another) Tintin t-shirt!!!
This one is the "Destination Moon" episode.

4. The silver spoon will be explained later...

Considering the circumstances, I could have come home with a lot more. I think the Beijing markets are better though and I will be heading there for a while in August with my bestest shopping partner (mum) so I wasn't panicked. Also, I clearly didn't buy as much as these ladies, who we passed on our way out - 

Intense amount of shopping. They were surrounded by bags!

I noticed today that haggling and chatting in Chinese gets you much better prices and much kinder, happier and more respectuful shop owners. Sometimes the markets can leave you with a sour taste because they seem so aggressive and impersonal, but even with my limited Mandarin skills I felt infinitely more welcomed and appreciated. It shows consideration to use (or at least try to use) the language of the country you live in. The more time I spend abroad the more I realise that. I cringe now when I hear foreigners yelling loudly and slowly at Chinese staff. It's so incredibly narrow-minded and patronising.

Moving on again! After the long hours of hard work shopping we left the markets and rounded the corner to find Wooden Box Cafe. It was lovely to sit and relax with a good coffee and some great food... and I found another spoon for my growing collection!

It was such a simple silver teaspoon, but with a rounded then pointed end
and two small indentations, a crane came to life.
It's a beatiful example of effective yet subtle design - for a useful object!

The pleasant, musical suprise!

After an hour of sitting enjoying the great cafe, a handsome man and his friends just started playing music! This man in the picture actually looks incredibly similar to Robert Downey Jnr, and he was totally pro at the steel drums. (Previously I did not realise white people could even play steel drums properly. I just didn't think we'd 'get it'.) Three guitars and some bongos later, a jamming session was loud and appreciated by all. The music obviously got us in the mood, because as soon as the sun set, we decided to head (once more) to JZ Club...

Tonight was the fourth time I have visited the JZ Club, and it just gets better every time. We arrived early though - just in time to catch the second half of a performace by a middle school jazz band!!! It was so lovely to hear the kids playing and it whisked me straight back to my days of learning the clarinet. All the parents were beaming up at their children, as if moments like these made the parents realise they must be doing something. It was also incredible to imagine that these kids will be the musicians really playing to crowds at the club in the future. It was like a mini flashback to the youth of those current JZ musicians. Lots of laughs trying to match the child to the adult, thats for sure. 

Arriving early at JC Club meant we caught some middle school kids playing in their jazz band. A real treat. Brought some wonderful perspective to my concept of time and
personal development.

So we shared a bottle of wine and waited until the big kids' music came on  - and boy was it good. SO MANY incredibly talented musicians exhibit their skills here. If you EVER come to Shanghai - promise me you will visit JZ Club. I also have a big crush on the saturday night drummer. Incredible and talent and wonderful smile. Tonight, though, I also heard the best saxophone I have ever heard in my life. It was so punchy and staccato yet smooth. SO SMOOTH. Incredible skill and the young man could not have been more than 30. It renews my faith in humanity, to see so many people coming together to celebrate something like music. It evokes so much emotion without the need for language. Inspirational.

The big kids' jazz.

So then it was 1:30 in the morning and we had to catch a taxi to head home! (Luckily didn't end up like this again. Hahaha.) And here I am writing to you at the end of a perfect day, still a little hazy from all the wonderful imported Aussie wine! (I'm a big supporter of the Australian wine industry. Red in particular...)

I'm going to scoot off to bed and try and get some sleep before Chongming Island tomorrow. No doubt I will be dreaming of rabbits and spoons and handbags and hamburgers and handsome drummers. Goodnight!