Bay-Jing to Shong-Hi to the Hamburger King.

So my roommate Traci and I jet-setted to Shanghai today. The preparation before the two-hour flight, however, was the most frustrating 24 hours of my experience so far. Nobody's fault in particular, but the language barrier, travel agent, and myself did not make a good communication mix. It ended in 22 text messages in Chinese characters, multiple e-mails, several phone calls, and accidently canceled flights. Traci and I are blogging from a hostel that we're not even staying at in the city, so to get the good version of Thursday's trip-booking fiasco, check out Traci's super blog: badinageetc.blogspot.com. 

But now we're here, and Shanghai has been nuts so far. And when I say nuts, I mean good.

Our plane arrived around 9-something in the morning, and we noticed differences between our old stomping ground, "Bay-Jing" (that is the correct pronunciation, in case you were wondering, which I'm sure you've lost sleep over), and "Shong-Hi" (same). Driving in Beijing is like a slow-paced round of bumper cars. Taking a taxi in Shanghai, however, is like being in the game "Grand Theft Auto." Our taxi driver broke up entire herds of mopeds, plowed down the left lane head-on, and cut off buses with his zippy Volkswagen Santana 3000. He was efficient, to say the least, and knew how to work Shanghai traffic. I was comfortable in his possession, but I think my roommate from last year, Mike, the proud Jersey driver, has finally met his match. 

After an hour battle through the streets, our cabbie dropped us off around a hostel we researched, but there were no beds left. Luckily, the woman at the front desk called a nearby hotel and arranged a discounted rate, about $30 U.S. dollars a night for the both of us. Unfortunately, the beds are even more firm and springy than at the university back in Beijing, but the room has air conditioning and a Western toilet, so I think it's pretty luxurious. After de-scumming from the morning commute across China, we set out to explore the city.

Like many big cities, Shanghai has multiple personalities. But Shanghai's are fantastically condensed. First, you're in a cozy Chicago neighborhood. Then, you're definitely in China. Then Europe. And lastly, you see the Pudong skyline, which reveals a cosmopolitan city like New York. Take a look; all of these pictures were taken during the short walk from the hotel to the ferry:

I really like this city. Like Beijing, everything is an adventure, but here it is much more intense. The city bustles. Flocks of mopeds rush through narrow streets the similar to the French Quarter in New Orleans. One misstep and you could get mowed down. Restauranteurs aggressively try to flag you into holes-in-the-wall with trays of food on display in open windows. Posh, dimly lit bistros; people steaming dumplings on the street corners. High-end shopping malls; fake Prada. Danger: Traci and I have already been stalked by a man wearing a women's wig and carrying a Mini Mouse bag. Intrigue: We have to navigate the city alone for the next two days on a limited budget and even more limited Mandarin.

You get the point. But honestly, this place is a feast for swashbucklers like Gillig and myself. (Swashbuckler was listed as an synonym for adventurer, what can I say?)

Besides getting stalked by Mr. Mini Mouse (we noticed him and a friend following us, stopping when we stopped walking, etc., so we went directly to a bank with heavy police presence, and the situation was resolved, meaning they lurked away asap), Traci and I took a boat tour around the Bund. 

Other tourists taking pictures of themselves by the Pudong skyline.

My picture was not as good.

It was nice to see the architecture and sit in the breeze, but I enjoyed our ferry ride across river with the locals much more. For a half yuan (7 or 8 U.S. cents), Traci and I crammed onto a ferry with a couple hundred mopeds. We were the only foreigners on board, and looked rather conspicuous among the Chinese men lighting cigarettes and strapping cardboard boxes on the back of their bikes. Even more fantastic was the crash landing. The ferries land sideways, and pound the dock hard enough to make people lose their balance. I have quite the taste for tomfoolery sometimes, so I thought it was fun. 

My homeboys on the ferry.

On the way back, however, we had to take the air-conditioned passengers-only ferry. Definitely not as fun. 

Traci and I were bent on finding Internet to contact our families, so we figured across the river at the Super Brand Mall would be an excellent place to look. The baristas in Starbucks directed us to "Hamburger King." The wireless did not work very well, but what didn't work at all was the "Spicy Whopper." We both tried it; we both thought it tasted pretty darn bad. Fermented, old, peppery barbecue sauce and mayonnaise. I tell you, it's not the Chinese food here that makes you sick. It's the McDonald's and Hamburger King that travelers use as a crutch. Anyway, here is the mall. Pretty snazzy:

Tell me how you really feel about that Whopper.

Besides my trip to spicy burger town, I bought a Mandarin handbook with a pronunciation CD at the mall. I've been searching for one in Beijing, but there's no English books in most stores. I'm excited to practice tonight and for the rest of our trip in Shanghai. Patrick, our gracious language and culture translator, did not come with Traci and me, so now we have to fend for ourselves. I'm pretty bad, but I'm getting a little better, and I want to be able to speak civilized sentences by the end of my time in China.

After the mall, we just headed back to the hostel with no beds left to use its Internet. The people at the front desk were nice enough to give us the wireless password, and we've been hanging around here since. But soon it's time to pop the old contacts out and talk in Mandarin at my computer back at Room 507. Wan an! (Good night.)