Shagless in Schizoid Shanghai

June 5th, 2002

Home to 17 million people, this port city acts as a proverbial funnel for all the economic resources going in or coming out of the mainland China. Treated as a free trade zone despite the vices of a inflexible government, the underlying psyche of communism lies just beneath the surface of a polished and cosmopolitan venir.
I arrived into Shanghai on the sleeper flight from Bangkok, bleary eyed and sorry to be leaving the land of smiles. I was immediately thrown into the grinder of Chinese public protocol, a polite way to say that I was pushed and shoved every which way from the moment I got off the plane. It was quite commonplace to see either man woman or child hawk up a giant green loogie and spit it right at your feet without a second thought as to why this might seem a tad bit repulsive. Giant belches and gaseous anal purging were the staples of the public symphony. Aside from the various forms of bodily discharge, I was quite impressed with how clean and orderly the city was. At certain times I began to believe that the chaos that is 17 million single children vying for what they each want, irrespective of each other, could only be controlled by the iron fist that is the communist regime.
The city is divided into two parts, separated by the Huang Pu River. Puxi is the old city center and the locale for most happenings of nightlife and culture, whereas Pudong is the newly built and very obviously planned part of the city where I imagine the financial districts will lie.
Meals in China were the cornerstone of any meeting. It was customary for the host to shove just about anything within reach onto your plate and to profusely demand that you try a bit of everything. Having grown up in the West, I was mortified at my options (or lack thereof) between chicken head and turtle meat, rattlesnake or fish eye. The most sickening things I ate (I assure you it was that necessary to be polite) were goose feet, whole, complete with webs and bones in a clam sauce.
For relief from the local cuisine I headed to The Bund, a long street along the Puxi side of the river. Lining the avenue are the most elegant colonial style buildings, each of them formerly Embassies to a myriad of nations resulting in a colorful range of architecture. Many of them have been converted to various businesses, hotels and restaurants. 75 year old Chinese musicians belt out classic jazz in high-class cigar smoke filled velvet rooms. Across the street, the view of the Pudong skyline at night was brilliant, capped by the Asia Pearl Tower, third tallest structure in the world.
I headed on down to Shing Tian Di and suddenly found myself in Europe. Bistros, restaurants and nightclubs were busy with ex-pats and local Shanghainese alike. My first gig was at a French combination restaurant/nightclub called La Maison. On one side they featured a cheesy but entertaining cabaret show, and on the other side of course, Yours Truly rocked a set of snobby modern house music for the high browed patrons. Afterwards, I headed onto a place that was a bit more my style, Club Pegasus. There I rocked the progressive trance and techno for 4 hours till the early morn, with a bobbing throng of 700 or so. In my opinion, although there are many very classy lounges in Shanghai, this was the only proper nightclub where you could get your groove on without some snooty ex-pat looking at you like a vagrant. The only thing that was absent from my experience was pulling a groupie bird from the bar. I supposed I wasn’t in Thailand anymore, and the Chinese foxes weren’t as susceptible to my mischievous charm. Having been labeled an ABC (American Born Chinese) probably didn’t help my odds either, but I still like to blame it on the fact that this was one of the few countries where the DJ is not looked at as an electronic rockstar, but rather as bar staff, no different than a waiter. I’m not giving you an excuse I swear! China had a preponderance of hierarchical tagging based on social status and it showed. In poignant disbelief I left the club alone (but with digits!) and found my way, in drunken Mandarin, back to my hotel on the Pudong side.
The next morning I awoke after 4 hours of sleep and ended up playing a game of basketball with some factory workers in a warehouse built on rice paddies. I thought to myself, here I am out in the farmland/industrial district hooping it up with a bunch of guys who make 50 cents an hour, and 8 hours ago I was rubbing shoulders with the Donald Trumps of Asia in what was basically only a Plaza D’Armas short of being metropolitan Europe. Later that afternoon I haggled incessantly with merchants in the famous Xiang Yang Market, and went home with a crapload of swap meet North Face jackets and runners with ‘Nike’ spelled wrong. Ahh, the wonder that is ubiquitous trademark infringement!
Shanghai is undisputedly the fastest growing city in Asia, and will no doubt become the next NYC or Hong Kong in the ensuing decade to come. However, its Old-World charm is still stitched into the very fabric of everyday life. No where else in the world do the past and the future crash together in such a furious yet inexplicably radiant joie de vivre.

Entry Filed under: Travel