9^th Feb – Causing Trouble

It would seem that I am in trouble. I have escaped serious injury after being vaulted from my bicycle at high speeds. I have survived pollution that appeared mutant-cloud like, creeping through the towers on my compound one lazy Sunday afternoon; I have resisted the urge to give up and fall to the floor (Austin stylie) when I was stranded in the rain, lost, alone when no blasted taxi would pick me up. I have eaten street food, brushed my teeth with the tap water – gums of steel, me – and bought vegetables from the street market rather than ordering them from the pretty, hygienic and easy websites available (inflated prices being a rather good stimulus for such a decision).
Yet I now find myself, on the edge of danger. I am in a situation which needs the most delicate of handling for it may cause irreparable damage politically and potentially physically (depending on how dedicated I become). Here goes: I joined the Rugby 6 Nations Fantasy League whilst drunk on Friday and after encouragement from others but I am now loathed, despised, growled at due to the fact that I’M TOP OF THE LEAGUE! Ah, haha! Would you believe it? I quite understand that a naïve usurper of pole position is a usurper all the same and would therefore happily retire from the competition to ensure that someone who does rather enjoy watching the odd game but has little or no idea about the intricacies does not claim victory over die hard rugby fans, who spend hours picking teams, pouring over statistics and watching match reruns – I do not wish to cause trouble, offence or the unnecessary self-flagellation of those not quite up to building teams as successful as mine clearly is.

But. Then. I think to myself: hang on just a minute, lady. Why not keep the boys on their toes? Let them sneer. Let them growl. Let them gaze through the green misted eyes of sporting competition envy. I am the only girl in the competition. I took an opportunity to ‘join in’; I’m new and should be making friends. Granted, I know bugger all to do with rugby other than the fact that a good friend used to play in that position where they run really fast down the flanks and my friends Holly, Scouse and Sam love it more than chips but right now I feel like going and blinkin’ well learning about it just so I can win in style. Ooh, what to do? What to do?

P.s. the weekend was marvellous. I spent a solitary Saturday afternoon watching movies and eating pizza then had a splendid Sunday afternoon having lunch with my new friend, warming ourselves with a medicinal mulled wine before exploring and having our nails done. Sunday evening, I watched a couple of Extras episodes, ‘Willy Wonka? Johnny W*nker.’ actually making me laugh so much I nearly choked on a cashew nut, before an early night and swim this morning. Today is the dreaded fashion show. God.
Please bear in mind, also, that in certain information above, I have exaggerated slightly – I do buy my Kale from the lovely website (who wouldn’t when those curly leaves can hide a whole world of mischief from the naked eye!).

7^th Feb – Saturday

So here I am: at work on a Saturday. Not, however, because I have a policy to write, books to mark or a to-do list to scale. No, I am here because I slept here last night after ‘post busy week’ drinks so I didn’t have to try explaining where I live to an unsympathetic taxi driver who blatantly would not understand my drawling directions. My Mandarin, by the way, is coming on beautifully: we spent a good 20 minutes of last lesson identifying the difference between ‘shi’ and ‘xi’ which in Mandarin sound almost the same. Still it was fun shi-ing away and I’m hoping that after another 20 lessons I may be able to ask politely for a coffee or ask a taxi driver to actually ‘stop here’.
This week has been filled, yet again, with a variety of the weird and wonderful. Last night – before the party – I went to Mr X. Mr X is a strange place where the team lock you in a room which you then have to try and escape from by solving the various clues and puzzles cleverly hidden within, behind and on top of the four gargoyle guardians. Hoping the a microphone did not drop from the ceiling and a huge screen emerge from the wall, which, knowing the Chinese predilection for a spot of Karaoke I wouldn’t have been too surprised by, me and my little group dived in. We actually did quite well and besides the fact that we didn’t escape the room (designed for adults, I think – and yes, I know, I am one) it was something I’ve certainly never tried before and reminded me somewhat of the Crystal Maze which has got to be the fantasy destination of a whole generation…

Other activities have included finding an area where there are a large number of art galleries, much like Al Serkal in Dubai, and wondering around there taking in some sights; going for a Mexican in a random Chinese loft where shisha was readily available; going to the lamp restaurant which is actually called the ‘lamb’ – misheard and misquoted by me, much to the amusement of my Chinese companions. I’ve been bullied into being in the Chinese fashion show which I’m dreading but I do have a very pretty dress and an umbrella to twirl so I’ll focus on twirling and walking rather than not falling off the stage or heading in the wrong direction. I’ve had a swim; eaten lots of cheese; spoken to my dad (first person since I’ve been here would you believe); bought a few Vietnam war films to enjoy on my evenings in – it’s a phase and I’m rather enjoying it; moved to ‘fourth’ in ballet; bought a Nutribullet and thus have eaten loads of celery et al; oh and I drunkenly signed up to a Rugby fantasy league with the help of one of the gappies – I have no idea what to do but thought Holly and Scouse might be proud!
Anyway, it’s been fun. My bike and I are still estranged: unfortunately until the scabs fall off I am unable to ride but they’re crisping up nicely so hopefully we can work on building trust back into our relationship next week.

My flat’s coming along nicely, I just have to get my paintings framed and fitted then hallas, I’m done decorating. So, that’s me. That’s my week. Feel free to message me about yours. I still have no fb at home but I’m on whatsapp and my email works. Happy birthday to my lovely ‘brother in law’ and to dad – sending you lots of love (hope you liked the singing). Speak soon… xx

30^th Jan – Fruit Gums and Eyebrows

So Facebook suggest that a status should be a statement about what’s on your mind, yes? Well, on my mind is Fruit Gums – I want some. And I want my blue shoes; my Yoga bible; I’d like the jumpers I had to leave behind and some peroxide so I can again disguise the relentless slithers of silver slipping through my otherwise healthy ‘brown’ mop.

But, I’d be happy with some Fruit Gums.

What I do have is a scabby knee – I’m still being ever so brave; a cape of beautifulness and plans to go and explore Shaghai ( Now, there’s an interesting spelling error) this weekend oh! and the prospect of watching the Chelsea vs Man City game at 1am rather than 5.30? Hmm. Oh and ballet classes, I started ballet! In-between the popping of my hips and the creaking, cracking of my knees and ankles, I have established that I have rather a good foot!

Bespectacled in rose-tinted lenses, I recall all those lovely people I met in Dubai (or on the way to Dubai) and I wonder why I am not still there, or in London, drinking with my nearest and dearest… Then I think, well, ‘it’s because I tend to make last minute, gut led decisions that I know ultimately will turn out well’. This weekend, for instance, I have decided to embark upon the grand mission of getting my eyebrows threaded. At present, the rather excitable, heavy set creatures atop my eyes are evidently getting out of hand and so they need sorting. In the UK, in Dubai: no problem. Here, in Shanghai, it means firstly getting a taxi: not easy, then showing the taxi driver a preselected taxi card outlining where you need to go until the switch clicks and the toothless yet ever so jolly man zooms off into oncoming traffic in the opposite direction you thought you were going in! On occasion they will laugh and chat; I will nod and smile (probably smiling at being called a dumb westerner) until I reach somewhere where I have no idea where I am, give up trying to explain and find a bar – better luck next time Columbus, I say to myself, have a breakfast pint.

Still, when even getting your eyebrows done becomes an adventure, what cause is there to complain over not having Fruit Gums – you know, they do fried chicken feet here? Perhaps I’ll just give those a try, they’re probably better for my teeth.

27^th Jan – Wobbles & Scrapes

Had a bit of a wobble this week – actually a wobble, skid and smash as I fell off my bike! There are war wounds, a particularly disgusting scabby knee and a couple of gauges to the hands have allowed me to call myself a brave soldier on several occasions and evoke the pity of anyone passing who looks vaguely like they’d be interested in having my knee thrust upon them for close inspection. Fact is, it really meant that for an evening, perhaps and afternoon and an evening, I felt a tad dreary. Potentially it was homesickness because that tends to descend swiftly when one becomes vulnerable, or perhaps the fact that in the UK the man walking past when I crashed would have deftly avoided collision (as the Chinese gentleman did), then perhaps attempted to help me up, at least check that I was not overly harmed. This one, however, just looked at me blankly and continued walking. It’s a different place, a different reaction and they have different laws regarding suing apparently. I was clearly not going to die though, so it was unlikely he’d get stumped with a ‘blood money’ payment or suchlike – still, I don’t know the law so mustn’t speculate – he was but one man. I was just a little thrown (pardon the pun) and again questioned whether what I had assumed was an intrinsic reflex, that of jumping to the aid of a splayed cyclist, was in fact learned behaviour.

Anyway, that said, if anything is going to lift the spirits more than a beautiful cape of beautifulness, I think you’d have a hard time proving it! I have a beautiful cape of beautifulness and I’d go so far as to say that when I am wearing it – no! When I am putting it on (it requires a delicate but firm swoosh across the shoulders before securely fastening a button about the neck), it makes all woes seem irrelevant niggles and sets all things straight.
As well as collecting my beautiful cape of beautifulness, this week has also been fairly productive – I made another trip to Ikea so my home is being realised; I tried on my new Chinese dress which is being custom made – oh, yes it is! I also got absolutely smashed on cocktails when out with a couple of colleagues and proceeded to fall on my arse when the curb appeared a little too early and I had not the coordination to rectify the balance issue before me.

So that’s about it, a week involving two falls, only minor injury (more to pride than body), a brand new magical, beautiful cape of beautifulness and the promise of a dinner date with an ex colleague which will undoubtedly be entertaining. All is still good in the Shanghai hood and my bicycle and I remain firm companions although we’ll perhaps be a little suspicious of each other for a short while.

 

19^th Jan – KTV

Satisfied with my somewhat successful Shanghai day, last night I retired to bed with a slightly smug grin. I had just ordered my week’s shop online; purchased a very pretty, sturdy bike to cycle to work on (classy, cool and functional WITH gears) and I’d treated myself to a hot-stone massage. Things here in Shanghai have obviously started well. It’s both frightening and alien to feel secure and uninhibited at work; the boxing gloves have remained securely packed away and while I may be quick to jump, as yet I have no one to ‘fight’.

I was not so sure, so cocky, so confident, however, when I was being led down a dimly lit rabbit warren tunnel of KTV on Saturday night. Little chambers, resembling bulbous alien birthing pods from a cheap set science fiction movie, contained people straining at a screen, sounds thankfully muffled by dubiously blackened glass,  being delivered cocktails of their choice by busy trolley wielding waiters. I was at Chinese Karaoke! It wasn’t my choice. I tried pulling the ‘I’m not singing because I am new and not sure of myself yet’ card but it wasn’t until I was standing, dancing and singing into the 1980s foam topped microphone that I realised my situation. A sudden silent pause in time allowed me to view myself, frozen mid-song, hip higher on the left where my dance moves incorporated a timely, smooth hip swing and my new colleagues grinning, laughing (with me, not at me. I think.) looked impressed. Bon Jovi in a stance very similar to mine, gripped his microphone; similarly mid hip swing, almost encouraging me to carry on before I deliberated, took stock and decided to simply proceed. While I’ll not deny that there was something quite uncomfortable about the almost seedy fluorescent pink marshmallow building, where who knows what goes on behind frosted windows, I surprised myself by having good time.
I haven’t been in touch much because, ironically, the only place my internet functions is at work. It’s part China, part me being a stupid arse when it comes to all things technological. Still, please don’t think I’ve forgotten you because I haven’t, I couldn’t and I wouldn’t want to. Rest assured that I am safe, happy and being looked after by everyone. My manager told me to ‘f*ck off’ the other day which made me smile – anyone that knows Steve will understand, he’s clearly pleased to be working with me again. I think he was just peeved that he wasn’t invited to sing.

Anon.

12^th Jan – on the way to work

Just saw a Chinese man on his moped sporting a proper full Burt Reynolds moustache. Made me smile and will probably make me smile all day.

Wide eyed

After Chinese Del Boy drove the pickup van containing me, my belongings, Chinese Rodney & Chinese Trigger to my new Shanghai pad, I finally moved everything in. I was honoured with a seat in the front while Rodders and Trig were wedged among the recently released books, rugs and the now slightly stale smelling wooden furniture, behind the side door in the back of the van. Confirmation that the immediate danger of bruising and chipping of both the men and the furniture was to be hastily and pragmatically ignored as the door slammed shut. Perhaps the driver would take it uncharacteristically easy on this journey?

I reassure you, all is  well: I went out by myself today and survived. I have eaten meat (mystery meat meatballs), and there is a shop on my new complex that sells wine; a most reassuring, novel and significant circumstance when considering my move from the Middle East was still fairly fresh in mind.

The Cadshores continue to mind me as best they can in my attempts to avoid disaster consequential or otherwise. So far the most adventurous experience has been the introduction to fried chewy bottomed dumplings containing stock and some form of meat – pork, I think. We sat below a shopping mall and I struggled to maintain dignity (an unnecessary diligence – hindsight making things exceptionally clear on this front) whilst balancing a fairly weighty dumpling between chopsticks and nibbling the edge before slurping and sucking out the juice. So this is how it’s going to be. I see.

With due attention to detail being necessary in order to avail you all that I am well and happy – at the very least surviving – I have decided that you must be informed of even the more basic occurrences surrounding my integration. Therefore even the decision to purchase a bicycle will herewith be explained. Apparently, a bicycle is highly necessary in Shanghai especially when one has a relocation allowance which permits such purchases. At present, I both dread and look forward to this decision manifest when I can sail through the streets astride my shiny new transportation discovering exciting new things whilst simultaneously avoiding low flying spittal and crazy apparently rule free pavement driving. More anon.

Saturday is to be the first time I see my new colleagues out on the town; seeing as I appear to be the only one not partaking in Dry January, I’d imagine all the stories on Monday will consist mainly of me drunkenly doing stuff that EVERYONE remembers; my nerves, delayed jetlag and stubborn refusal to refuse alcohol working their combined magic in creating a small and memorable little monster. Still, I speculate. Perhaps I will not be the only one and perhaps my endeavours to represent myself as fun, intelligent and independent will shine through. Dare I say it? More anon.

They start the working week on a Monday here in China, like the UK but unlike the UAE. Confused me somewhat today. This admission to a simple weekly working day routine causing confusion, I think, suggests that success here is likely to necessitate a little ‘manning up’.

Of course, I miss you all, my treasured friends; I miss the sun of the Middle East and I miss the closeness of those who know me. While I suppose that cannot be physical closeness for a while, you must stay in touch so I do not become too remote in this new and ever so different of places.