Thursday

Getting weed in Shanghai


February 5, 2009: I met Ima as i hurried past his flatbread shop on a beer-buying errand, stopping in my tracks as he called after me, "Hashish marrrwana." (the rrr is supposed to indicate a rolled r).


Well actually, yes please.

I'd been waiting almost 2 years for this, though never expecting it to happen. He took me into an upstairs room decked out like an Arabian desert tent with middle-eastern carpets and pictures of Xinjiang, his homeland, covering the walls. There we puffed on a couple of fat joints and drank bowls of Xinjiang tea for an hour or so before i left to continue on my errand. Once i reached the street however, i was seized by the thought of getting locked up if the police noticed, and i made straight for home, which thankfully was just around the corner.

I needn't have worried of course, given Ima's willingness to shout out "Hashish marrwana" on the street outside his shop whenever a foreigner walks past. As he pointed out the next time i saw him, the police in China barely even know the existence of "Big hemp", much less know it by the names the rest of the world knows it by. Almost nobody in China would even know the smell. The smell, that is, of the buds being burned. As some of you may recall, we discovered last year, a non-potent version of it grows freely in Gansu, both in fields entirely dedicated to it and also in ditches and wasteland alongside major roads, where it is considered a kind of easy-to-grow sesame seed. (Actually hemp and sesame are both represented by the same Chinese character.)

His weed isn't cheap by Chinese commodity prices - it's about the same price as in Australia or the UK - but it's strong enough. Ima claims "everyone" (that is, everyone except all the women) smokes it in his hometown. Judging by Ima, those stuck down here in China Proper wouldn't tolerate simply being without this essential element of their culture... I imagine from now on, the second-last month of our time in China, it will always be quite easy to obtain weed, as the supply lines are undoubtedly direct from Xinjiang, and people are coming and going from Xinjiang in large numbers every day by train. It would be very easy for him to simply get whatever friend-of-a-friend who was coming down to Shanghai next to pack a pack of the green stuff, and i'm sure many, many Uighurs - or other indigenous ethnic groups who i'll call collectively Xinjiangis - have such supply lines open.

That next time i saw him happened to be my 25th birthday - today (well, it should've been today so i'm backdating it). Until then it had been quite possibly the shittest birthday ever, spent reformatting my computer and re-installing windows. Then there was Ima's weed cafe for lunch. Not only did he supply weed, we ordered Xinjiang food for munchies, the main part of which turned out to be one of the best ideas i've ever seen in cooking. It was pieces of mutton and vegetables (not particularly special but delicious nonetheless) in a deep plate of soupy sauce - and here's the crucial bit - with a flatbreat submerged in the sauce...So fuckin good - the question i have now is: Why don't more people put flatbread at the bottom of juicy, sloppy dishes? In addition to all of this, he whacked on some music video VCDs that alternated song-by-song between fascinating lute-based Xinjiangi songs of love and loss filmed among the spectacular scenes of that land, and random 70s and 80s funk/soul - not your average Marvin Gaye or anything, but real random stuff that no-one's heard for more than 20 years. He told me these songs were popular on Xinjiang radio way back when he was a kid. Globalisation ain't no new thang eh.

Monday

A glorious monument to overproduction



February 2, 2009: Kenty and Tess have come and gone, and their admirable touristic fervour led me to experience the Real Shanghai, from a foreign visitor's perspective, for the first time.

First up was Yuyuan, the Mandarin's Garden, right near my place though i'd never gone inside.

Nice fishes they've got there.

From that rather desolate collection of crazy paving and courtyards (this may be a bit unfair as the day was very cold, but with its courtyard walls it's certainly designed to receive minimum sun) we hit up the world's highest observation deck, in the World Financial Center or whatever that massive building known as The Bottle Opener is actually called.


(Its non-identical 'twin' tower, the Jinmao Building across the road, is one building i really like.)


My cheapness meant we didn't go all the way to the top deck at 474 metres, only to the 430 metre one. Kenty, who seemed keen to spend RMB in a way somewhat resemblant of foreign sailors in Old Shanghai (the analogy doesn't actually extend to cheap hookers) wanted the extra 44 metres, and Tess seemed nonplussed, so my convoluted pseudo-mathematical protestations about the exponentially-decreasing significance of additional height beyond the pollution line won out.

We got there about half-past four and the sun was still above the above-mentioned pollution-line. However the astonishingly lame, compulsory, "Intro Show" on the basement floor - which consisted of a one=metre scale model of the tower embedded with LED lights, spinning around and around - was there to save us from seeing the city in its full, sunlit glory. When we reached the observation deck the mists were rolling in and the sun had all but disappeared into the haze.




Nonetheless we had spectacular views of the Sim City known as Pudong. (For the uninitiated that's the east side of the river, which has been almost entirely constructed since the mid-90s.)


Next up came Kenty's moment of glory, the Shanghai Tourist Tunnel. I'd never even heard of it, and his introduction to the idea of us going began, "I know it's crap but...." But despite the bitter wind, my scepticism, and Tess's continuing nonplussedness, he nonetheless emphasised repeatedly his burning desire to see it, due to its being there for tourists. And despite the total fluke required to actually find the entrance, tucked away in the forecourt of some big hotel, and despite its consisting of only 2 elements - WackyWavingInflatableArmFlailingTubeMen and more of those surplus LED lights from now-defunct Guangdong factories (I guess this is what's respectfully termed "the early signs of over-production"), i think anyone who says the Shanghai Tourist Tunnel is crap just isn't opening their mind (or maybe camera lens) long enough.



Bravo kenty, for speaking out for the unpopular cause.

Saturday

"Menace" the mayor and other random images



January 11, 2009: Saw this crazy reflection in the window just before we moved from the other room.



Anyway some other random images. This building was across the road from our latest Hong Kong hotel room, a 9x6 foot box in a great location downtown:





I wonder how that overhang can remain, apparently completely unsupported.

If you ever go to Hong Kong and you need the cheapest clean hotel room in town (you probably will) then look no further than Mirador Mansion.



Don't be put off by its foreboding exterior, nor the maze of an Indian shopping mall on the lower floors (you have to go up 3 different flights of steps to reach the hotel part, but if you get lost don't miss the chance to stock up on Masala Munches). There are at least 20 guest houses here in one building, right near the harbour in downtown Kowloon, and they are without question the cheapest decent accommodation in the city.







Love the random 45 degree angles - this place would definitely be derelict by now in Australia or the UK.





How did they make those flowing concrete ballustrades eh? Pure 60s genius.

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A fire in TEDA. Big one it seemed. Sunday Times ambulance-chasing instinct apparently still lies dormant within me...







I scooped the fire trucks, too.

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Lastly, it's been too long, but anyway, i've been meaning to bring these posters to the outside world since we left Thailand.

Bangkok was having a mayoral election just before we left, and despite the election being decided months ago i absolutely must express my position. Lining the streets were literally thousands of posters for the various candidates - i think i mentioned this at the time - namely, Smirky, Sofftey and Menace. But it's always one candidate's poster repeated every 30 metres or so down an entire street, which greatly adds to the effect.

Here are a couple of Smirky's best efforts:

Sleazy

Sleazy


But Menace is the one you wanna meet - this is a man with a vision for the city:

Menace!

Smirky and Menace

The guy on the left is Sofftey. He was only in the shot to emphasise Menace's anger. But i'm sure Menace's anger needed no emphasising when the voters elected Sofftey. We knew Thai politics was in a bad way...

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Hong Kong
Products (including mayoral candidates
Shanghai 2
Tianjin and Tianjin antics
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We never had it that bad



January 11, 2009: Just before we left on that last journey we got the chance to swap rooms - still in the same flat, but now on the other side of the building. Photos

Sweet deal - halfway point of the lease, same price, practically the same room basically but this one has a balcony instead of a bay window. And of course the view swung round 180 degrees.

The view from this side is not much less spectacular but definitely more interesting. We're looking out on a large expanse, probably the largest expanse of original Chinese city rooftops, almost certainly from the 1800s and maybe before [horseshit. obviously from the 20th century most of them] (we're in the middle of the small part of Shanghai that was here before the foreigners came--a small walled city).



They look to be in the process of a systemactic re-roofing of every house, which will ensure less people live in dank and mouldy conditions with water dripping through when it rains. The current roofs are that crazy-jumbly Chinese type that seem to use about 10 times as many roof tiles as necessary, while the new roofs are boring, Modern (yes Karl Langdon would be proud) type ones at the cost of completely ruining the visual effect for worthless foreigners like me. At least this means they're not planning to knock them all down.

Judging by the fact they're doing every house in a pretty poor area, along with the total lack of regard for aesthetics and historical value, some government authority is behind the re-roofing. So it's going to get very interesting when they get to these ones below:




Will the owners just roll over and allow their hard-earned, probably slef-built 2nd-floor shanty to be dismantled, or will there be confrontation? [they didnt get to them, they stopped after doing about 1 out of every 5.]

One place that could really do with a new roof probably won't get one though. Right below our new balcony is the worst housing i've seen in Shanghai.



It looks like it came from the same design sheet as our Minhang place but it's older, more dilapidated, and appears to be built on a kind of rubbish dump. The outside fence that faces the big, wide, modern street is decorated with some kind of fake bricks and a huge poster of gorgeous dramatic landscapes. I don't think anyone lives in the end apartment (the one with the roof missing), but still i feel very sorry for anyone who has to live there. Residents hurl their rubbish and pans of cooking grease off the balcony towards the wasteland, where an old man with a cart collects it from, and where kids joust with huge bamboo poles.



There's apparently no undercover route to the toilet - a feature always alluded to in classic industrial revolution slum descriptions. People scurry back and forth in the rain and cold, i saw one woman carrying her tissue bucket in and out. That's the bucket you put your used toilet paper in instead of flushing it cos the pipes are too thin. I didn't see any men carrying tissue buckets. I wouldn't like to see the men's room.

Even with all this though, being a relatively modern building, conditions there are probably still better than conditions in Old Shanghai under the roofs i was just ranting on about above. The ancient couple who i buy beer from run an open-front shop in a brick house somewhere in the mass of rooftops, and they still live on a wooden platform above the products, just like Carl Crow described 70 years ago.

All of this to ponder and imagine during smokos on the balcony. And as a bonus we no longer have canisters of explosive lobbing past the window every saturday morning. (Many if not most of the apartments in our complex, which comprises about 5 or so 20-25 storey buildings, are completely blank i.e. virgin concrete, never been lived in. They're not unsold, they're mostly just investments that people snapped up during the property boom with no intention of doing anything with but sitting on. In these days of real estate carnage people are actually starting to and move tenants in - or move in themselves. And of course when you move into your sleek brand new property in the centre of Shanghai, the first thing you do after you step out of your sleek brand new black Audi is banish the evil spirits. With explosives.)

Friday

Orientals vs Foreign Devils: Who is the cruelest of them all?




January 10, 2009: My apologies to anyone who might have checked this site in the last 2 months and found only the same old dog-whacking to look at. Here's some cat-whacking.


After leaving that horrific shit in people's faces for so long, i'm going to play at being a real blogger for once and follow up. I think i speculated at the time about acceptance of animal cruelty on the part of the Chinese and as such this definitely needs pointing out:

Another recent animal cruelty case to come out was about photographs of cats crammed in crates being shipped by train from Nanjing to Guangdong to be skinned and boiled in Cantonese restaurants.

A Chinese blogger, Nalan Jingmen, originally made the 'discovery', taking a bunch of photos. Afterwards, a newspaper picked up the blog entry (as Chinese newspapers often do), and an English language China website in turn reported the Chinese newspaper story.

The reader responses at the bottom of the story on the Chinese blog overwhelmingly expressed sympathy for the animals. But until some hardcore American cat lovers and Indian vegans came along, comment on the English language website was running principally along the lines of "who gives a shit?"

I remember similarly heartless responses in a local newspaper a few years ago about live cats being used as crayfish bait.

Wednesday

Sharing the dirty snow in TEDA



December 31, 2008: It's weird, i get this sinking feeling whenever i arrive back home, the closest thing i've experienced to depression, as circumstances are actually quite good. Photos from Hong Kong and Tianjin.

It doesn't matter where the home is or what it's like either, cos it's happened when i've gone back to my old place in Australia, back to our nice apartment in Songyuan, our dank migrant workers' hole in Minhang, and now our average room in Shanghai.

Anyway, so last month we were staring down another visa-enforced tour of shame - this time to Hong Kong. Actually it was possible to renew the visas here in Shanghai via the various backdoor operators who are now back in business after the Olympics, but i calculated that HK train tickets + accommodation + outrageous HK prices for a day equalled a saving of about 500 yuan.

We wanted to catch up with Dell, our pal from Kansas, over xmas and he was up in Tianjin, the northern port city near Beijing. So we plotted a whirlwind 9-day triangular route from Shanghai to HK to Tianjin and back to Shanghai.

The critical part of this whole triangle was that we were to take a plane from Shenzhen (just outside HK and much cheaper flights) to Tianjin on xmas eve. This was to be the first time we would take a Chinese domestic flight, so we were a little nervous but generally kept the faith, reassuring ourselves by arriving at the Shenzhen airport 14 hours early and sleeping the night there before our 9am flight, saving between 150 and 300 yuan in the process.

After a bad night's sleep we awoke to the sound of the trilingual passenger announcements. If you think of all the passenger announcements at a busy airport, then multiply that by three, the result is the speakers are pretty much always blaring. In this case i could understand 2 out of the 3 languages, the third being Cantonese. I'd heard Cantonese spoken quite a few times before and been fascinated by its distinctive sound in relation to Mandarin, but i could never nail down what was distinctive about it. In that airport, with Cantonese versions directly following the Mandarin announcements, one word i kept hearing over and over - aeroplane - the mandarin "fei-ji" becomes "fuyh-guyh". Suddenly it was clear what the distinction is: Cantonese is Mandarin spoken as though one is retarded! "Fei-ji"...."Fuyh-guyh"!

And then i looked at the departure board. Our flight wasn't on it. Cancelled. China Southern airlines ran one flight a day - that one. Bear in mind, xmas eve, we'd already - voluntarily of course - been in that airport for about 12 hours, and you can probably imagine the general state of shatterment. However, one thing we hadn't considered was the truly ridiculous number of airlines operating domestic routes in China. I thought they would return our money (internet special price, 75% discount - the reason we could actually afford to be flying) and tell us to go over to another airline desk and buy a ticket (0% discount, out of the question).

But - and maybe this is because so many flights get cancelled - they have what seems to me to be an amazing system of co-operation between airlines, whereby with a slip of paper and a red stamp they transferred us to another airline who were running a flight 3 hours later.

Unfortunately the other airline, Shenzhen Airlines (even cities have their own airlines, it's ridiculous!) was having some computer problem and they said they couldn't tell me whether they had seats for us. They told me to come back in 2 hours. So i went across to their ticket sales desk and claimed i wanted a ticket on that fight. It seemed the sales desk's computer was more receptive - and they didn't have 2 seats, the girl said.

So back i went to the China Southern counter, and told them the result of my sleuthing. After about 10 minutes of rapidfire phone conversation, my conclusion was verified, and they finally agreed to switch us to a third company's flight, this one 4 hours later, but at least it had seats.

I had expected that for domestic flights it would almost be like the good old days of air travel - just strolling to the gate and hopping on as you get on a bus. But the security checks were the most thorough i've ever witnessed, much more even than international flights from Heathrow, Hong Kong, wherever. The xray operators analyse each bag for a good 30 seconds, and the walk-through metal detector is so sensitive it picks up the zipper of your jeans. Anyone who sets it off, which is about 50% of all passengers, has to stand on a block and get the full-body scan with the hand-held metal detector, arms and legs spread etc. They were totally undiscriminating - everyone got to experience being "of middle-eastern appearance".

We finally got through. and into the gentle care of Hainan Airlines. Hainan is an island that was only given province status a few years ago. I would venture to guess it was Hainan Airlines' only plane. Either way, they afforded us a great view of the Guangdong pollution, followed by Jiangxi mountains, followed by a couple of excellent products:

Guangdong air

Jiangxi mountains



It seemed to me, when i saw this out the window, that we might have just had a near miss with another plane:



Seriously, the photo doesn't show it very well but that vapour trail was maybe 200 metres from my window!

Our friend Dell has a very cushy life. He actually still works for the school in Songyuan that brought us here, only he's been dispatched to the Tianjin Economic Development Area as private tutor to the chairman of the area government. The chairman is so busy that he only has class about 3 or 4 times a week, and never for longer than 2 hours. So he works about 6-8 hours a week.He never has class before 6.30pm and he never continues beyond 9.30. So all day every day is pure free time for Dell and not only that, the chairman comes to Dell's house when he wants English class. And not only that, because the chairman comes to him, the school boss back in Songyuan has set him up with a swell apartment designed to impress the chairman (and help him decide whether to allow the boss to open up a school in TEDA).

We actually passed through the TEDA last year, on our way to the port, and the first impression of it then was "incredibly rich, incredibly tacky". It's actually about 50km away from Tianjin, and is a city unto itself. Quite reasonably, the English name got abbreviated to TEDA, but then, once its status as a Special Economic Zone (tax free for foreign companies) ran out, they decided to give it a Chinese name...a Chinese name based on the sound of "TEDA": Taida. It happens to mean "Peaceful Achievement", which i'm sure they thought was very cool. But really, a Chinese city named after an abbreviation - an English abbreviation at that?

In fact, when i think about it, it's actually sums up quite well the non-Chinese, and indeed non-anything, completely alien, culture-free character of the place: endless rows of the same apartment building, broken only by 8-lane roads, Disneyland theme park-like "European style" buildings, "drive-thru" fast food outlets, a giant elevated freeway running through the middle of it. Etc.

And if the place lacks a bit of life, it's not due to our friend Dell. As his classes never finish later than 9.30pm and he never has to get up in the morning, he goes out most nights. As a result he knows all the bands (mostly Filipinos, Colombians and Trinidadians), all the bouncers, all the bar staff, and all the regulars in all the local bars. That despite knowing very little Chinese.

The north had had snow storms just a couple of days earlier, so we got to experience a snowy xmas. "White xmas" would be the wrong term because it very quickly turns brown in many places.





Unfortunately on xmas day we were in no state to be frolicking in the snow, or anywhere at all. The minute we arrived at Dell's place he sprung upon us tickets to a 1488RMB xmas eve celebration being held by the government (the price was printed proudly on the front of the fancy envelopes alongside "merry christmas"), which the chairman had obtained for us when he heard Dell had friends coming. Thanks, chairman, as a token of my appreciation i won't name you. So we threw down our bags and, showered and headed out to the palatial, 5-star "Harborside" restaurant, a massive buffet with unlimited beer. We were then hustled across the brand-new hotel compound to the indoor tennis court, the exterior of which looked like a 17th century church built by Dale Alcock Homes (apologies to Macca).

Inside the "gala" was being held - one of those events where everyone sits in silence on McDonanlds chairs for 4 hours while an endless roll-call of half-hearted singers and dancers perform in front of a backing poster proclaiming the purpose of the event, accompanied by screeching loudspeakers. In this case, the specially-made backing poster stretching across the stage showed a giant santa claus of the coca-cola type, along with the English words, "Meeting in Binhai, Sharing the prosperity" (Binhai is the county TEDA lies inside). A rather ironic choice of slogan, given the ostentatious price printed on the front of everyone's fancy ticket envelopes. As a finishing touch, facing the stage on the far wall was a massive olympic sign that had clearly just been hastily painted by some dodgy workmen.

Thankfully we came late and they couldn't find seats for us, so we stood at the back and smoked and talked as the dancers on stage did the bare minimum. In true Chinese style, of course, the audience of party goons and their families matched their enthusiasm when it came to applauding. After about 1/2 an hour we were able to slip away and hit the bars, long and hard, which we proceeded to do each night thereafter.