The Silk Road - 8

It’s probably been the longest week for me here in Shanghai - probably because of the wait to see where I will be headed the next week. After see-sawing between Beijing and Chengdu, it’s finally been decided that I would head to Chengdu for the coming weeks. It could well be my last week at Shanghai.


Subash has started cooking. While he does the cooking, me and Yash sit and watch Horror movies. Subash keeps yelling from the kitchen to switch it off. Thanks to us, Subash is now too scared to sleep. Megan Fox (ala “Jennifer’s Body”) has invaded his dreams, keeping him awake through the night. He is the first person I know who is scared of Megan Fox.

Yash left on Saturday. He couldn’t fulfill his desire of visiting Xian. Neither could Subash go for a massage with Yash.

Discovery of the week: No pee-pee boys, but it's again courtesy Yash – “In the USA, ‘tall’ means ‘short’. If you have any doubts, check in any Starbucks outlet”.

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It’s a long way to office – a 45 minutes ride thanks to the Metro. It’s a small place like the Graphisoft Park in Budapest. SAP stands with other companies like HTC, Olympus and ICBC Bank. There is a small man-made lake in the midst.


And then, there are the mosquitoes…Too many of them in office.

Nobody wants the lunch served over here. Subash didn’t like the smell. The others didn’t like the taste. So, we bring lunch. But still, Subash wants to know why they need to pay to have lunch at the office.

To the east of People’s Square runs East (not surprisingly) Nanjing Road – a boulevard of lights. It’s an out and out walking street with a few tram-like contraptions thrown in for the benefit of people like Pragati who cannot walk the whole way. There are huge shopping malls – from the Shanghai No. 1 Department Store at one end to the huge iphone store at the other. At night, it is truly a splash of colour. On this road, there are always people singing and dancing, and then there are those trying to sell you iphones, bags, clothing and sex massages

About 500 m ahead, is the famous Bund on the Huangpo River. Thursday was a rainy night and the umbrellas were out. We had two ourselves. Across the river, the lights of Pudong shone brightly. A mist was slowly descending. The highest pearl of the Oriental Pearl Tower kept playing hide and seek. The massive Shanghai World Financial Centre and the Jinmao Tower were lost in the mist. On the Shanghai side, the beautiful old buildings blazed in various colors. We stood braving the rain until the lights were switched off.

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Shanghai Old Town is a maze of galis and wooden structures – a place you should go, if you want a traditional flavor. And, it is crowded! The queue at the famous Nanxiang restaurant was miles long - thus evaporated my desire to eat the famous steamed buns. Next to the restaurant was a small lake with the tea house in the middle. A bridge led to it. In front of it were the dancing men – a posse of Indians (not red), making postures like Bruce Lee did in “Enter the Dragon”. Soon I understood the reason - their pal stood in front with a camera. Across the bridge was Yuyuan Garden - a serene oasis of wooden pavilions in the midst of this hustle and bustle. It was not crowded – probably people were dissuaded by the 40 RMB entry fee.


Lunch was at KFC. It tasted strange. Unlike anything I’d eaten so far.

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The first experience at the hotel was not nice. They had booked me only for 6 nights. It took them half an hour to rebook. The room that they gave me had no telephone or internet as promised. It took me a couple of trips from the 8th floor to the reception to get it fixed.


The place has 18 floors, but only 15 stories – there are no floor nos. 4, 13 and 14.

According to the desk clerk, the nearest supermarket is 25 minutes by taxi. I need to check the definition of the term in a Chinese dictionary, for there were a few of them nearby. But none of them sold butter, and the least amount of rice they offered was 10 kg!

The newly set up Marriott City Centre towers over our hotel. Behind it stands the jazzy and glamorous Shanghai New World Emporium that houses a huge shopping mall, movie halls, Madame Tussauds and what else. Like a sharpened pencil, the miles tall JW Marriott looms over everything else. Across the road sprawls People’s Square, also the site of the nearest Metro Station. It is one of the most important stations – considering that it has about 19 exits. The metro is awesome. There’s a train every 1-2 minutes, and it covers almost all parts of the city (it’s the longest metro in the world). However, China’s not the most populous country for nothing. And of course, inside the train it is just like Chennai – neither do they go in from the door, nor give way for people alighting.

No sooner I stepped out of the station at Yuyuan Garden, than I spotted a young man eating something that looked like a small barbecued snake on a stick. Everywhere there were people selling raisins, cashew and dry fruits, but no exotic animals. Surely, I must be mistaken. All the stories about China are exaggerated.

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I was impressed to see the Toyota Corolla waiting to pick me up outside the apartment. It was 12:00 AM in the morning, and for a change, I was starting so late to the airport. The chauffer was fast. By 12:40 I was at the airport. And then, all the hell broke loose.

The check-in baggage weighed 27 kg. On cue, they weighed by cabin baggage and it weighed 13 kg. Out went 2 kg of rice and some ready-to-eat stuff. I would need to depend on Chinese food. The weight of check-in baggage brought down to 23 kg. Tackling the cabin baggage was easy. I took out the 5 kg backpack (retrospectively, a bad idea to carry it along – a teched bag would have been better).

“This only contains the laptop. Can I carry it separately?” I asked

“Yes sir, you can” said the lady at the counter.

“So what’s the big deal if I just turn the corner and keep the backpack inside the cabin baggage?”

She didn’t have a convincing answer. After immigration check, I did just that – after more than an hour. Immigration check was hell. All the counters were open. But the personnel were so slow that a huge snaking queue had formed, and it was now approaching the other end of the terminal. It also meant that we had to dodge smartasses who tried to claim that they were the only people flying on the 3:00 AM flight to Hong Kong. To compound my woes, the security check was held up by the clever guards who claimed to have found an invisible pair of scissors in the bags of a gentleman. It was 2:30 AM when I reached the gate.

I never knew when the flight took off. I was fast asleep. Thankfully, there were no cry babies. Half an hour before landing, I was woken up for breakfast consisting of something disguised as upma and sambar. We descended into Hong Kong half hour late. Thankfully, the transfer gate was nearby. There were hardly 50 people on the flight to Shanghai. The vegetable pulao, bhindi and dal was more indian that the upma and sambar.

At 3:00 PM, we alighted at Shanghai. The ghost of immigration came to haunt me again. After an hour of waiting in the queue, I exited into a parking lot that was miles high. All the taxis had the VW symbol in front. Everything else was in Chinese. It was 4:00 PM and the sun was already setting. Soon, we were cruising from one elevated road to another. One could barely see the tops of the apartments. Add to that, it was foggy. A Maglev train passed us at some impossible speed.

But no sooner we crossed the Lupu Bridge into downtown, than the traffic came to a standstill. The last few kilometers, we crawled. Drivers are the same as in India. It’s a nightmare to change lanes. Nobody gives way.

And, there are mosquitos here…there was one in the car.