The Big City

It’s raining in Shanghai. Outside the sun parasols have been transformed back into being rain umbrellas. The cool air is a huge relief, the roads awash with water that scooters splash through, their riders soaked to the skin or suddenly (miraculous), clothed from top to bottom in waterproof gear. We watch wet to the skin people passing by from behind the glass of our local patisserie.

We often set off to find a cool place to drink an icy drink, have a cappuccino and find a comfy corner to write in. The FFC has a number of bookstores or interior design shops which feature a coffee bar or juice bar and welcome patrons in to sip an icy drink and to sit for hours on old leather couches or at antique tables and chairs. The ambience is often artsy with booklined shelves and original paintings, soft lighting and muted music. We found Sinan Books early on and thereafter we discovered an interior design shop, filled with art deco furnishings in which we were served a particularly good cappuccino by a slim suave Shanghai man in a crisp white shirt. A slender and beautiful young Shanghai woman, wearing a long flowing skirt and sporting a moving snake plait of hair down her back joined us there with her entourage of admirers. They enjoyed a photo shoot in the stylish space, with her posing amongst all the art deco artefacts.

But today we took shelter in the patisserie after we had travelled to the Bund, early in the morning, on the metro. The Bund is downtown at the river’s edge. The sun beat down on us mercilessly. We hovered on the waters edge promenade, gazing across the Huangpu River. Large working river boats still ply their trade, and large ferries make tourist river crossings. We strolled along and took some pictures of the Oriental Pearl TV Tower and other iconic buildings on the opposite bank. We decided that we would leave our crossing for another day, as the heat was excessive. We sought coolness like shade plants, clinging to the slightly cooler sides of the streets in the inner city. We stopped and admired the many art deco buildings, looking upwards at them. Many are in excellent condition and others, we were grateful to see, are being worked on behind bamboo scaffolding and shade cloth. The Bund was mainly tourist free, apart from small groups of Americans and Italians and larger trains of Chinese people under umbrellas following their leader bearing a flag aloft.

iaPM mall – Shanghai
Dolce & Gabbana (iaPM mall)
Shirokuma Curry (iaPM mall)

We strolled about the big inner city, crossing roads sizzling in the heat, avoiding Starbucks and KFC’s before deciding to return to the FFC (now called “home”) on the Metro. We now know the number 10 line and alighted just next to the iaPM mall. Opening the glass swing doors from the metro station into the mall was like diving into a very cold, refreshing swimming pool and so we stayed there, moving past the icy glass and chrome windows showcasing Gucci, Stella McCarthy, Dolce & Gabbana and so on and so on. L and I deeply admire design and fashion, if only from afar and so we lingered long and rode the escalators up to the 5th floor. This time we were looking for curry, which we found in a Japanese format (Teriyaki chicken style) at Shirokuma Curry. We downed cold beers with it and made friends with chopsticks after an absence of days. The meal was wonderfully tasty and we enjoyed eating it on the top floor of the very modern and beautiful iaPM mall. It had been a day in which we had enjoyed the very modern side of Shanghai with its huge malls and awesome skyscrapers.

And then the rain came and instead of seeking shelter in our upstairs flat, we ducked into our patisserie, sipping iced mocha drinks and petting a sweet little Chinese former stray dog, called Mona, now owned by a very sophisticated Belgian lady who was sitting beside us.

The Market

Brush salesman

On Saturday we set out to go shopping. We had no real plan, apart from a visit to the bank

We wandered past Wu-mart and kept walking, and around the corner, we came upon a market.

morning marketThe market ran down both sides of a side street. It was full of people and ran along the street for quite a long way.
We decided to venture down it.

There were many stalls, all very interesting and different from the markets that I know.

Fresh fishThere were stalls selling fish. The fish were kept alive in big red square baths, with fresh water being pumped around them as they lay there twisting and flicking their tails. We did not buy any, but if we had, our fish would have been killed, scaled and gutted for us while we waited.

Live chickens being soldThere were live chickens being sold. They were kept in wire and steel cages, from where they were taken out and weighed for customers. I didn’t wait around to see whether they were killed and cleaned then and there or not. We had to move on

The narrow walkway not only catered for pedestrians but also for three-wheelers and motorbikes and bicycles, all moving up and down, shopping and making deliveries.

Brush salesmanAn old man sold an assortment of brushes from his bicycle parked in the middle of the road.

Fruit and vegetablesThe fruit and vegetables were very fresh and crispy and brightly coloured. They were all set out in rows and were very cheap, but as we planned to be out for a while we did not buy any.

Colourful herbsThere were also tables groaning under bags of spices, loads of chillies, chopped finely or roughly, piles of a yellow powder (surely it was turmeric), dried green herbs (which ones?), and a pile of light pink powder (no idea what that could be).
I recognised piles of cinnamon bark, bundles of bay leaves, clusters of star anise and bunches of fresh coriander. I guessed at what other powders could be, but it didn’t matter, as I wasn’t buying.
What I did buy was ginger. I wanted a piece so that we could cut off thin slices to put in the hot water that the Chinese serve to you everywhere and which we have started drinking as well.
Anyway – I gave too much money (it wasn’t much) and ended up with 5 huge pieces of ginger!
Shopping from markets with no language is an art that I have yet to master!

We bought some crispy little round pastries to nibble on. They tasted of oil, but they went down well, as we ate them, strolling along in the icy morning.

Fresh meatThere were a lot of meat stalls, with the meat lying out on open tables in the freezing air. They seemed to be sold as large chunks of meat, not cut into steaks or chops or cubes or ribs. There was not much pork for sale, we noticed, as most of the stallholders at the market appeared to be Muslim, with the flat planes of Mongolia carved on their faces.

Green TeaWe stopped at a stall where a man sold piles of green tea. We did not have a container in which we could carry a small amount, nor do we have a teapot or a strainer. The man at the stall had a little English, in that he could say ‘Green tea’ and he gave us permission to photograph his stall, although he himself moved out of the shot.

A truck load of freshly made pasta
A truck load of freshly made pasta

We were beckoned over by a lady selling tofu (a lot of it is served to us in the school cafeteria). She was selling from a large bucket of chilli tofu (her husband knew the word ‘hot’) and another bucket of plain tofu. She gave us a little taster of each and so we bought a square – not so much because we wanted it but because we felt obliged to her. We did not pay much for it, and I carried it in my coat pocket, wrapped in plastic, for the rest of the morning.

Bicycle graveyardWe strolled on and the row of market stalls ended. We found ourselves in a rather dilapidated part of town, filled with workers, trucks and impatient men on 3 wheelers. There were little warehouses everywhere and towering flats above strung with ropes of black cable and windows caged in with bars.

Muslim restaurantI saw a small Muslim restaurant in which I glimpsed groups of smoking men talking and eating together around smoky tables.

We emerged back out onto the Main Road, having walked in a loop. We wandered into a health pharmacy, looking for some basic medication. L used our Chinese/English app to describe what we needed, as well as to read the packaging. We got what we needed, and amongst much smiling and reading of cell phone scenes, we paid and left.

Crossing Chinese roads no longer phases us, apart from the very real danger that we might look the wrong way for oncoming traffic.
We started feeling a little concerned about the tofu in my pocket, and so we headed home.

Here we are…

Every now and then I forget that I am in Lanzhou, China.

IMG_4484I look up from my laptop and see our new flat, and I feel a moment of surprise.
This is strange of cause because the smooth tiles have been warm under my bare feet the entire time, and the air has continued to smell oddly smokey – a dry smell that I still haven’t figured out.
It’s – 4 degrees outside, with a very light coating of snow, but our flat is so oddly warm that we are barefoot in shorts and t-shirts. We have even opened our windows, letting in the pungent air, and we are still toasty…

Lex and I have already eaten our first meal, cooked in our new wok and eaten in our new bowls with our new red plastic chopsticks.

Our lips are constantly very dry, as is our skin, but the meal tasted good, flavoured as it was with some flaky ingredient from a packet with a label we do not understand.

It was impossible to find dinner knives in ‘Wu Mart’ during our first shopping spree yesterday. Forks, and large dangerous cleavers, yes, but no knives. So chopsticks it is.
Perhaps there are knives somewhere in ‘Wu Mart’- but how could we know? We could ask no one and all labels and signs in Lanzhou remain a mystery.
As do we. We are a mystery to all who clap eyes upon us in this part of China. I know of 6 foreigners (all teachers at the school- one New Zealander, one Turk, one Indian, one Romanian and us two South Africans – English teachers all…) and have seen no others on our excursions out into the city streets over the last few days.

Those who know me know that I am tall, even by Western standards, so you can imagine how very ‘different’ I am.
As a good friend said to us on the phone a moment ago – ‘let’s face it Michelle, when last did you and Lex turn so many heads?’

IMG_4535

It was a whirlwind visit to the shops, and we were rushed through by a fellow teacher who has done it all before, and although Romanian, speaks perfect Chinese. He knew that our taxi would arrive at the designated spot and the designated time and we needed to be there. We were not, and he had to come back to fetch us as there is no parking and he could not linger.
Lingering is an unknown word on the streets of Lanzhou. No one pauses for a second, not even when turning, or stopping, or deciding to do a rash u-turn into the face of on-coming traffic.
Our driver, when he did arrive, seemed grumpy to me. Our Romanian friend assured us that he was simply being funny, and not grumpy. Lex and I felt unsure. Next time we will definitely be on time.