8th May 2015
Poised at the bar the bemused looking group of Chinese friends winced and observed the outrageous ‘dancing’ currently taking place between tables When one young lady threw caution to the wind and jumped down to join us, my stride was momentarily broken, I feared I might be in trouble.
I also knew, however, that I must maintain the dynamism; that I must continue to pout, wiggle, strut and jump around in a strange hybrid dance incorporating salsa, tango and Tigger style bouncing as I had been executing energetically for approximately 20 minutes now. The lady was clearly impressed at these strange alien folk who looked so confident in their jerking and bobbing that this must be a dance style worth imitating. Perhaps some doubt showed in my face as I flung the dear creature across our recently constructed dance floor as it was shortly after that launch that she returned to her seat at the bar, and the realisation occurred that we were the only ones dancing; that the area we had so aptly selected was in fact just standing room at the bar, not a dance floor; that the bar crowd was thinning… Then a dance version of Thriller came on and the Zombie hands came out!
I was sick in the morning. Such was the cumulative consequence of a day’s worth of drinking and ridiculous jump dancing. Patchy memories winced into my throbbing head. We drank bubbles on a rooftop bar. We drank fruit beer outside a street bar in the French Concession. We moved across the road and drank red wine and ate spicy pizza in another bar in the French Concession. We moved a few bars down and were encouraged to try Long Island Iced Teas. Then, some of us decided it would be a marvelous idea to go and dance somewhere. I have declined to view the proffered photographic evidence of this as the flash backs are far too frequent this morning, and far to raw.
Once the hangover receeded just a tad, we went to get our nails done. I opted for black.
Nearly a week since that and I’m feeling much more sprightly. I weighed myself today and have decided that the reason why I have gained a few pounds is quite obvious and is easily explained when due consideration is given to the vast amounts of exercise in which I have been partaking: I have simply built muscle and I shall fall back down again next week when I opt for evenings on the sofa with a box set. There has been far too much cycling this week, my bicycle still punishing me by offering relentless slightly flat tyres and occasionally skipping gears. I can’t help but feel I am not yet forgiven.
I do admit, however, that I rather enjoy the cycling around. It’s funny, sometimes you get looks from people and you think they’re unfriendly or even hostile. I assume, as the outsider, the invader, the stranger who simply cannot pick up the language, that most would resent my presence. Further contemplation, however, lead me to decide on a plan of sorts. I decided to simply smile at everyone I see. And the results if this detailed and well formulated social experiment has lead me to believe that people are the same as at home; if you smile, if you say hi, if you acknowledge them, they will in turn say hello back – accurately reinforced but collated data suggesting that 8.5 times out of 10 a positive response is received. Whether the greeting be delivered through thin lips, brown teeth and a dangling cigarette or some funky young chick in 3inch pink platform Nikes (who knew they made them?), it is at once reassuring on a tough ‘China Day’, pleasantly welcoming and sometimes a little surprising.
Anyway, still on my bike and the other day I thought I’d put my money where my mouth is and test out that weird Chinese crazy driving synchronicity theory I formulated recently (it involves fish and multidimensional group understanding). I wondered if it also worked on pedestrians and cyclists. Then the perfect opportunity appeared: as I hurtled down the far side of a bridge enjoying the wind, momentary pedaling release and subsequent muscle ache subsidence, I saw that at the bottom of this hill were four ladies walking. Enjoying a pleasant afternoon stroll, it was probably too early for them to have spotted me. But I had spotted them and unbeknownst they were about to become test patients. If I continue at my current speed – thus enjoying the lovely breeze for that moment longer – would they ultimately adjust their walking positions to allow me through in the same way that the cars just seem to blend in with each other? I admit, it took rather a lot of commitment to the cause for me to resist pulling the brake but resist I did and then, miraculously, the woman moved. Now this may seem obvious to you but for me, in context, it was quite the revelation and since that moment I’ve been experimenting every time I’ve ridden. The only near miss I’ve had was with a policeman who blew his whistle at me and shook his big stick even when I pointed out the lights were green! Admittedly, it seems I was looking at the incorrect set of lights and the ones which actually dictated when cyclists could proceed were not the ones at which I was vehemently gesticulating.
Wednesday, I visited a street market after work. Various tins, cigarette posters, little wooden stools and vintage suitcases were piled on stalls with traders who all promised a ‘cheap, very cheap price’. It was amazing, so many gorgeous antiques mixed up with ceramic Mao in a dressing gown, a waving Mao in a pink suit, posters, ashtrays and playing cards of Mao positioned delicately adjacent to a lovely packet of ‘Young Chinese Girls in Next to Nothing’ playing cards, a veritable banquet of interesting and random objects. I was reminded that I know next to nothing about the political structure of my current home and have decided to rectify this within the next two weeks. It’s also quite interesting to note that this market, this place of eclecticism and tradition mixed with the tack of modern mass production is going to close in two weeks. It’s disappointing yet I resist the sentimental regret that descends when one sees a beautiful thing destroyed. I can’t get upset about the closure of this buzzing little cacophony of eccentricity at or the demolition site that is adjacent to it and the knowledge that these windows, stalls and gorgeous buildings are soon to disappear. I can’t get upset about it because I do not know what they are being cleared for and really regardless of whether they are being smashed up to make way for new homes or a spankingly clean uber modern mall, I cannot be angry – it would be wrong to flaunt an opinion when I do not understand whether this is a tragic loss of traditional building or a necessary demolition of dangerous constructions. Because like much of what I see every day, I am thinking with the sight of an English girl not a Chinese one – I keep having to remind myself of that.
Other than pondering this fairly obvious point, recently I have been obsessing. Obsessing about the fact that much of the alcohol here is actually fake. After the market, we visited a lovely French bar where I convinced myself I’d actually put away a glass of antifreeze. We polished them off – save the wastage – and opted for a nice Chablis after that just to be on the safe side. I will be watching myself from now on though, the hangover on antifreeze is terrible!
So here I sit, in my friend’s classroom, a glass (plastic cup) of red beside me readying for the inevitable humiliation that is the school ‘pub’ quiz. There’s a Politics round. There’s a Geography round. There’s a round on China. I’m buggered! I should have avoided this and gone to the wet market near home to watch the lobsters escape their tubs.
She went to Shanghai 