A Tale of Three Cities

Shanghai was the next new world city, but we reached it in an old world way: by rail on the overnight train from Kowloon. This was our warm up for the Trans Sib, and I am somewhat relieved to report that we loved it. We adored the bunks adorned with lacy bits and our single carnation in a little vase (to show we were in a good class of sleeper), the motion as we trundled through the night, the old toothless crones who stuck their heads round the door to prattle away to the kids in incessant Mandarin, asking them for a light for their long, thin and foul smelling Chinese cigarettes. We loved the Chinglish signs “KEEP AWAY FROM BURN” and the brass plates against which they measure kids to see if they truly are below 1.2 metres. We less loved the habit of gobbing on the floor and the toilet after 10 hours. We learnt the essentials we need for the next few long train journeys –bog roll and endless supplies of coffee – but 24 hours on the train was much more relaxing than flying and we saw a lot of Chinese hinterland that somewhat belies the face of modern China: endless wastelands and smog, people literally scratching a living.

But when you pull into Shanghai you are seeing the Chinese dream once more. In a beauty contest of great world cities, Shanghai would definitely place in the top 5. Yes, its hard to reconcile these vast cities (between 18 and 23 million people) with one’s purist thoughts of communism, but as a taxi driver once remarked to Joe: “ah, but this is CHINESE communism”. It’s a very different, beguiling and very powerful beast.

Shanghai has the Bund – a fabulous old European parade of grandiose buildings along the river, from the time when it was a free port. On the bank opposite it is Pudong – an incredible testament to China’s development and status as a major commercial power. Its one of the many, many places in China where the juxtaposition of old and new is staggering, but Shanghai so far is the place where this has struck us most. Zhujiajiao, still within the city limits, is a little more like Venice than Macau’s MGM version, with narrow stinky streets full of highly disturbing foodstuffs (shame to point out to excited kids that the fish, frogs and terrapins on display are lunch) and canals teeming with the Chinese version of punts. Most of the buildings and bridges are over 700 years old.

Then there is the Yuyuan Garden, an absolute oasis in the heart of the modern city, a 600 year old garden with courtyards and meeting rooms straight out of your vision of Chinese tranquillity. The temples, such as the Jade Buddha Temple, are also little pockets of serenity, and Joe was delighted to find his fat and happy Buddhas at last.

We spent a few great hours at the Children’s Palace, a kind of mega scale after school club that teaches local kids music, art and dancing. The children were all delightful, and scarily talented. Some of the painting was flabbergasting. Our kids joined in with the ballet class and Lesley you will be pleased to know they have FINALLY done some ballet again, and acquitted themselves OK! Rhys also joined in the tea ceremony with considerable gusto, and we had to wrench away the ginseng tea from he and Rowan, as they had far too much energy already.

Parting with far too much cash at the silk and tea factories plus at the Children’s Palace was par for the course. It’s almost impossible to resist.

We crammed in such a lot in Shanghai, the highlight of which (for the kids at any rate) was probably the Chinese acrobatic show where daredevil motorbike riders and amazing contortionists wowed them utterly.

I must explain we cheated a bit in China. When grappling with our plans for 5 weeks in China a couple of months ago, we realised that – with no Mandarin – it was going to be hard to organise all the different places we wanted to go and even the bare necessities like ordering food could be tricky. So we contacted a few companies that organise tours. Now, you know we are really, really stubborn and ungracious about being shuttled around in groups, but CITS – the China International Travel Service – has turned out to be our perfect solution. Every train we get off, we are met. Every hotel is booked in advance. Every place we visit, paid for. We have unobtrusive guides and fabulous drivers of air-con buses to smoothe our path and help when needed. The efficiency is almost scarey, and ever so much appreciated.

From Shanghai we boarded the very last flight of the year, flight 32, for a domestic trip to Chongqing (no sensible transport alternative). Maybe because it was the last flight and we were tempting fate, or maybe because it was China Airlines and we didn’t understand anything I don’t know, but this flight utterly freaked me out. There was turbulence all the way, and the seatbelt sign never went off. The whole thing shook for three hours and we seemed to bank crazily far too much. The cabin was falling apart and so was I. For the first time, despite some pretty hairy air journeys, I was a gibbering wreck. Once again I can only bow to the rest of the family for their patience and empathy. Rowan was a rock, entertaining Jenna and quietly reassuring me. Joe alternately held my hand and made me laugh.

But we landed (very suddenly with an extremely low cloud ceiling, on one wheel, then swerving across the runway) in Chongqing and I could breathe a sigh of relief that there was to be no more flying for at least 4 months – and probably a lot longer. We had survived many, many thousands of air miles. Our feet were firmly back on the ground. Or, as for the next few days, firmly on deck.