Consumerism, Colonialism, and Chocolate

Shanghai, November 17, 2007 (Saturday)

Another gray, rainy day. While I yearned to stay in, and tunnel under sheets with coffee and a book, I forced myself to take the book and coffee on the go. I hopped on the 911 double-decker bus, and enjoyed a circuitous ride through several districts in Shanghai, including the former French Concession. I hopped off at Central Huaihai Road, which is another shopping artery of Shanghai, with just blocks and blocks of retail stores, restaurants, and huge shopping complexes. This road’s neon rivals Nanjing Road, and probably surpasses it. There are huge LCD screens flashing ads everywhere, the sidewalks are packed with people, both shoppers and street hawkers, and the streets are packed with cars, buses, bikes, scooters, and motorcycles. I must confess that my mild fear of crowds kicked in: I gave most of the stores a perfunctory glance, and I didn’t even bother going into any of the shopping centers. I did go into a couple of book and stores, but that was it….interesting security and baggage policy in one of the stores: you make your purchase, the cashier wraps a paper band around your items, and your items don’t get bagged until you leave, when security checks your purchases against the receipt ala Costco, then bags up your purchases.

I located the Huangpi Road metro station and hopped on, getting off a couple stops later at Shanxi Road station, which incidentally, is also near a famous “bar street”. Lots of the bars were housed in a lovely Tuscan-style villa, that took up an entire block, and had a bunch of ethnic restaurants – Middle Eastern, Tibetan, Italian, TGI Friday’s, the usual multicultural fare. On my way to Yang’s Kitchen, a little Shanghaiese restaurant tucked inside an old French villa, I passed a sandwich board on the sidewalk with the words “DVDs! Movies! TV! Cheap!” with an arrow directing me into an alleyway. Like a mouse who detects cheese, I followed the sign, hopping over various muddy rainwater puddles, into a hole-in-the-wall shop selling, you guessed it, DVDs. Like other shops I’d visited, their selection of older Hong Kong TV series and movies was pretty sparse, but their Western stuff was pretty impressive. I bought a couple of obscure boxed sets for my Dad (Hogan’s Heroes – Seasons 1 to 4!), along with a few other movies. I hopped my way back onto the main street and a couple of blocks later, after winding my way into a French villa that also houses a pre-school and a French bistro, found myself at Yang’s Kitchen. A couple of guidebooks and websites recommended this restaurant for its Shanghai food, particularly the old school stuff. It also had a much calmer ambiance. It was a nice place, with rosewood furniture, an impressive wine case and selection, and a comprehensive bar. The menu had lots of high-end things, huge platters of banquet food meant to be shared family-style. The more affordable single-servings were in the back of the menu, and included lots of great noodle and rice dishes, along with Shanghai “snacks”. I decided on a seasonal crab noodle soup, and crab and shrimp “little dragon buns”. The crab noodle soup came first, and it was huge bowl of piping hot broth, soft ramen-noodles, and a beautiful mixture of crabmeat, egg, and spices. The crab mixture was creamy and flavorful, and melted in your mouth. The broth was enhanced by the crab, and with every slurp of the noodles, you got a double whammy of crab flavor: from the broth, and from the crab mixture that clung lovingly to the noodles. That huge bowl o noodles would have been more than enough for lunch, and I shouldn’t have been able to finish it…but of course I did…as well as the steamer of “little dragon buns”, which were lovingly crafted, and consumed, and burst beautifully with flavor with every bite. Hmmmm. That huge meal, served in elegant surroundings, set me back less than ten bucks US.

Feeling more than a wee bit bloated, I roly-polyed my way to the metro station and hopped on for a quick ride back to Huangpi Road. I walked off my lunch by heading a half mile or so south, to a hip artists area on Taikang Road. It was a series of connected alleys that housed tiny artists shops and cafes, and was really cool. I found a neat boutique called InSH (i.e. In Shanghai) that sold cutting edge women’s fashion and great graphic t-shirts. They were having a T-shirt promotion, so I picked up three black I Shanghai T-shirts, and was delighted to see that I could charge them on my Visa. Oh, how I’ve missed using plastic!

The artists’ alley had lots of expats and cool hipsters in the cafes and shops, and there was even a photo shoot in progress, that I kept crashing, I’m sure, since I got confused and kept going in circles inside that labyrinth! The models were a man and a woman in traditional Chinese wedding attire; she in a gorgeously embroidered cheongsam (qipao), and he in long embroidered dress robe and jacket, known as a magua, complete with he red sashed bow. The light wafting in from above, and the shiny, dark stone walls of the alley, made a striking backdrop, I’m sure.

In the very depths of the alley maze, I found a really cool shop called Shirtflag that sold awesome graphic T-shirts. There were some tongue-in-cheek Mao shirts, as well as shirts that made fun of Western pop culture icons like Mickey Mouse (with crossbones), the Michelin Man, etc. The pouty panda, an original design for the store, called Hello! Panda, was cute, too. I was sad they didn’t have the Converse-style shoes with Mao’s face painted on them…that was my main goal from that store. I consoled myself with a T-shirt and a set of Pandie buttons. I also passed by a nameless toy shop on my way out. It was the size of a walk-in closet, filled with colorful and whimsical things, and staffed by a charming, friendly lady who knew how to sell. I ended up buying way more than I expected, including a brightly-colored mobile of the Chinese zodiac, with each animal a chubby, pudgy, adorable design hand-stitched and embroidered, and two adorable suede and paisley stuffed horses. Like I said, she was a great salesperson…she gave me discounts without me even bargaining, she complimented me on my language skills…yesh, I am a sucker for compliments on my language skillz. She also shrewdly played on the tribal instinct of “belonging” by saying confidentially “I normally don’t discounts, but since you are of Chinese descent, and speak Chinese, you can have it for half the marked price…” Yesh, I am a sucker for feeling “accepted.” Issues, schmissues.

I left the Taikang compound laden with bags. I haven’t done a lot of shopping since I got here…lots of DVDs, some books, and a few touristy knick-knacks. I really liked the things I found today. I liked getting things that were original, local designs…not something that was a cheap imitation of a Western designer brand.

The drizzling had stopped, but the day remained overcast. I retraced my steps northward, walking through the residential neighborhood, and pausing at a goth-y stone compound that looked pretty swank. Turns out it was the Ruijin Guest House (Hotel), formerly the Morris Estate. The grounds were beautiful, and the buildings looked like they were plucked from the English countryside, these grand, goth-y houses, with gargoyles and turrets. I remember reading in a trusty guidebook that Face, a cool bar that served afternoon tea, housed in one of the buildings. Afternoon tea was a nice way to chill out after an afternoon of walking and shopping, so I entered the grounds. Really lovely, even prettier than the well-maintained parks that I have visited here. In fact, a wedding was taking place on one part of the grounds, near a small pond and bridge. I hope he rain stays away long enough for them to say “I do!” There were five buildings on the estate, three large ones, and a couple of smaller ones. The signs pointing us to the different establishments weren’t entirely clear, so I had to ask a valet which way to go. A five minute walk up a curving path and there was Face, inside a lovely colonial house. I walked up the steps and pushed open the front door, and was immediately engulfed in an exotic, dim environment. It took me a few seconds to adjust to the lighting, at which point, a gracious hostess had already lead me into the main tearoom, which opened onto a spacious veranda. It was chilly, so the veranda was empty, and I sure as hell wasn’t going out there…instead, I opted for a small table near the window. Face is decorated in a tropical, colonial style, and once you set foot inside, you feel like you are in a Merchant Ivory movie, or a W. Somerset Maugam novel. I should be in a dress with petticoats wearing a hat and flapping a fan and saying “I declare” or something. The main tearoom was quite crowded, and after you passed the gleaming hardwood bar, and caught a glimpse of a game parlor with two pool tables, you are hit with the utterly decadent sight of a room with high ceilings accented by lazy ceiling fans, and trimmed with two day beds, with frilly canopies, at either end of the room, French doors opening onto the veranda overlooking the grounds. Those were comfortably occupied, of course, and the vestiges of a good tea were seen all around: sleek teapots, gleaming silver stands that held three plates of tea goodies, languid, bloated bastids hogging up the bed. I pored over the menu, and bemoaned the fact that I couldn’t have everything. I finally decided on a pot of Chrysanthemum, and a decadent Hot Chocolate Cake dessert trio. Tea was lovely, ambiance was lovely, blah, blah, blah. Now to the good part – dessert! The plate was a clean, white oblong that contained a dish of the bestest ice-cream ever, earl grey tea ice cream, pierced with a yummy toffee crisp. Next to that was an artful pile of sweet berry compote, and next to that, the silkiest, gooiest molten cake that has ever burst upon a plate. I teared up while eating this dessert. It was a near religious experience. The ice cream was a revelation, subtly sweet, with this wonderful, honeyed, subtle spice to it. The compote enhanced the sweetness of both the ice cream and the cake, but I must say, I liked the cake all by itself, in all its warm, rich, ooey glory. I can’t remember too clearly what happened after that, as I suspect I was in sugar-chocolate shock..I think it involved stumbling, drunk on chocolate, huge grin on my face, outside into the crisp autumn, drizzly dusk, with some off-key humming of “Singing in the Rain” and a cab that took me back to my hotel. Or mebbe dancing and singing on the bar, in an attempt to charm the pastry chef into marry me, then being tossed into a cab that took me back to my hotel. Details.