Rules of traffic in Shanghai:
He who gets there first (and is biggest) has the right of way. Buses almost always win; pedestrians usually lose. Nobody, but nobody, stops for pedestrians unless there’s critical mass. Given the millions of people in Shanghai and the hundreds (thousands?) in any given shopping area at any time of day, critical mass is possible, just not likely. Taxis make U turns in the middle of the street all the time, and the rest of the traffic waits because they have no choice. He got there first. People sometimes cross in the middle of the street – they are either brave or stupid.
Pedestrians are never safe, except possibly in parks. If bicycles and motorbikes aren’t allowed on the road, they take to the sidewalk. A pedestrian street is one on which no buses travel. Barriers are no barrier to vehicle traffic, unless the vehicle is truly too big to squeeze between the posts. Many drivers are willing to try.
Nobody stops before turning right. Conversely, it’s always a good idea to make that left turn before the light turns green so that you’ll beat the oncoming traffic. These folks would be very comfortable in Philadelphia. Bikes and motorcycles only stop when confronted by traffic, but they generally operate so as to survive. Bike critical mass is easier to achieve than pedestrian critical mass. Going through a yellow light is de rigeur. Going through a red light is commonplace, but it depends on whether there's a traffic cop at the intersection, or other extenuating circumstance.
Everybody honks – well, almost everybody. Most bicycles only have bells, but buses honk, cabs honk, motorcycles honk. I've heard some pretty anemic horns on motorbikes. Crossing guards and traffic cops blow piercing whistles, usually right next to your ear. Drivers ignore them. At the entrance to Zhongshan Park there’s a guy who blows a whistle whenever anyone steps on the grass. In the subway, the closing of doors is marked by several ear-splitting electronic shrieks, just so you’ll know to hurry in or out. Did I mention the squealing brakes? Noisy place, this.
Apparently some expats think that honking is rude. A northern European, possibly Dutch or Belgian, writing in the Shanghai Daily, opined that, to the contrary, drivers are only trying to make sure you are aware of their presence. If you want to cross the street, he suggested, just don't let the drivers know that you see them and they will let you pass. I don't think I'll try that one just yet, at least not intentionally.
An article in the Shanghai Daily on August 21 headlined "Plate prices set record" stated that in the monthly auction for the privilege of driving a car in Shanghai the average winning price was above 40,000 yuan, or $5000 US. The city auctioned 6,200 license plates in August, 700 more than in July. The auction is designed to limit the number of new cars on the roads, since cars are acquired much more quickly and easily than roads can be built to accommodate them. However, as more people here can afford to buy cars, they will simply factor in the cost of the license plate and traffic will continue to increase.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Transportation
Many, if not most, of the families at Julia’s school have drivers. Some have their own cars. I wouldn’t drive here if you paid me. The subway is fast, frequent, cheap (40 to 75 cents a ride) and incredibly crowded at rush hour, just like in any other major city. Of course, there aren't many subway routes to choose from, but we chose our apartment partly based on proximity to a subway station so Bill could get to work easily. Buses come in air-conditioned and not, and you pay an extra yuan (12.5 cents) for AC. I am not yet ready to try taking a bus anywhere. The subway stations sell stored-value transit cards that are good on the subway, buses or in taxis. Cab drivers seem to be very honest, but they don’t always know their way around, so we need to be prepared to give directions in words, not just with gestures and map.
One example: on Friday of the second week of school Julia and I were invited to the home of one of her classmates, with whom she’d been corresponding, whose mother is a real estate agent who arranged for our apartment. I had called the mother because Silvia, her assistant, hasn’t been as helpful as we'd hoped, and I guess I sounded so lost that she invited us over. I got to school and there was a group of 4 girls going over to the house. Susanne called me (yes, I have a Chinese cell phone now) and said she had arranged for a car – it turned out to be the driver of the father of one of the girls, and the idea was that we could all manage using the school bus and the car. I wandered off while we were waiting for the car and when I came out the girls were gone (turned out there wouldn’t have been room for me in the car anyway) and the buses were gone, so I had to get a cab.
I managed to flag down a taxi and I had the Susanne's address card, with a map, which I showed it to the driver. After looking at it for a bit he said sorry (in English), and I got out. I got another cab, and he took me somewhere – turned out to be the neighboring complex – and let me out, everyone, including the guards at the complex, insisting that I must be in the right place. Finally the guards got someone who spoke English on the phone, and she told me I was nowhere near the address I wanted (she was wrong). I called Susanne, who said yes, you’re nearby, you can walk. It was a long block (we’re talking the edge of town here, sort of like parts of Florida where they are carving developments out of the swamp), but I discovered that in fact I was in the right place. I eventually deciphered the map on Susanne's card and found their house - Whew! Susanne told me I must never let the taxi driver let me out without taking me where I want to go, but it’s hard when you aren't sure where you're going. The kids, of course, had been there for quite a while and were tucking into waffles and ice cream when I finally arrived.
We had no trouble getting back home by cab. Drivers know the big streets perpendicular to our little street, and they know Shanghai TV. Now if I can only remember to pronounce the names properly . . .
One example: on Friday of the second week of school Julia and I were invited to the home of one of her classmates, with whom she’d been corresponding, whose mother is a real estate agent who arranged for our apartment. I had called the mother because Silvia, her assistant, hasn’t been as helpful as we'd hoped, and I guess I sounded so lost that she invited us over. I got to school and there was a group of 4 girls going over to the house. Susanne called me (yes, I have a Chinese cell phone now) and said she had arranged for a car – it turned out to be the driver of the father of one of the girls, and the idea was that we could all manage using the school bus and the car. I wandered off while we were waiting for the car and when I came out the girls were gone (turned out there wouldn’t have been room for me in the car anyway) and the buses were gone, so I had to get a cab.
I managed to flag down a taxi and I had the Susanne's address card, with a map, which I showed it to the driver. After looking at it for a bit he said sorry (in English), and I got out. I got another cab, and he took me somewhere – turned out to be the neighboring complex – and let me out, everyone, including the guards at the complex, insisting that I must be in the right place. Finally the guards got someone who spoke English on the phone, and she told me I was nowhere near the address I wanted (she was wrong). I called Susanne, who said yes, you’re nearby, you can walk. It was a long block (we’re talking the edge of town here, sort of like parts of Florida where they are carving developments out of the swamp), but I discovered that in fact I was in the right place. I eventually deciphered the map on Susanne's card and found their house - Whew! Susanne told me I must never let the taxi driver let me out without taking me where I want to go, but it’s hard when you aren't sure where you're going. The kids, of course, had been there for quite a while and were tucking into waffles and ice cream when I finally arrived.
We had no trouble getting back home by cab. Drivers know the big streets perpendicular to our little street, and they know Shanghai TV. Now if I can only remember to pronounce the names properly . . .
Our Apartment
Sea of Clouds is a free translation of Yun Hai Yuan, according to Silvia the real estate assistant, which means something like Cloud Sea Garden or Court. I can't seem to find the Yuan character in any of our dictionaries. The landlord told us that the place was built in 2003, or else his family bought the apartment that year. We're on the second floor, which means we can take the stairs, but the elevator is air conditioned. The apartment has a big living room-dining room combination, with a mirrored wall next to the table and a giant TV surrounded by a decorative frame of dark wood that on one side holds a purple vase, as well as a pair of candles that we brought, and on the other side an Ikea clock. The rest of the walls are bare. The floors are dark wood except for the kitchen and bathrooms. The kitchen floor is that infernal grubby white tile, and the bathroom floors are beige marble. The drapes (not curtains) are beige. The décor, in off-white, glass and black, is a mixture of ugly and Ikea, which is apparently par for the course in Chinese furnished apartments (see Imagethief’s blog from 8/17/06, Infernalture). The walls are cream colored with white trim, all in all a pretty neutral place. Julia at least has a colorful comforter cover (no comforter needed yet), but our sheets are white - boring! Obviously, as housekeeper and non-working parent, I need to do some decorating. I'm thinking red fabric. Time to shop!
The kitchen came with an assortment of pots and pans; a few glasses (we've broken 4), plates and large bowls; some spoons and chopsticks and a set of children's cutlery from Ikea; 2 rice cookers (one for the microwave), a toaster and a coffee maker; dishwasher, refrigerator, microwave oven and an assortment of partially-used cleaning supplies. The dishwasher wasn't functioning - the water valve was shut and we couldn't find it to turn it on - but it's so small that the plates don't fit. It's just the right size for demitasse cups (we bought 2) or children's tea sets. We bought some small plates that fit and we run it once in a while when the timing is right. We broke the first of the big plates yesterday - perhaps we will let attrition dictate the size of our dishes as we move toward the miniature.
The washer and dryer live in the hall bathroom (Julia's bathroom, as no guests have yet shown up to claim it as theirs), and are quite small, as one would expect. The beds, alas, are king-sized, and it's not easy to find king sheets in the cheapo stores. King-sized sheets take up the entire washing machine and the comforter covers are too bulky for the dryer. We have a drying rack that came with, and most of our wet laundry goes on it. I have occasionally put the rack out on the balcony, but the floor of the balcony is so dirty that clothes need to be tightly tethered so they won't blow off and need to be rewashed. One sheet takes up almost the entire drying rack. Bill discovered that the inside of the lint trap in the dryer was full of lint but the dryer works much better now, after a more thorough lint removal. Now that Julia has 3 uniform shirts instead of just one to sweat in, laundry is somewhat less crucial. One weird thing, though - after we run the washer, after some undetermined interval, her bathroom smells like a sewer. I poured boiling water down the drains (sink, shower and floor), which caused an ominous "glug glug glug" and only brought out the essential aroma of sewer. It occurs to me that being on the second floor of a 28-story building might not be the best idea, especially in hot, sticky, sewer-smelling summer. Live and learn.
Our bedroom is light and warm with the curtains open, though for the first few days we kept the curtains closed all the time to keep in the air conditioning. As we've gotten more used to the heat we've started allowing light in. Both bedrooms have marble window seats, but we only have enough sofa pillows to outfit one window seat at a time. Julia has used hers for studying and waving at people, although she doesn't look to see if they wave back. Bill tried it and she didn't notice. The office/guest room has a yellow Ikea sofabed that is the most colorful thing in the apartment. There's a small balcony that looks out onto a park in between the two buildings of Shanghai TV. Across the street (it's a pedestrian street, so no buses) in front of the park a series of benches that are always occupied. People sit on them, sleep on them, perch temporarily and then move on. We can see some tall buildings, and of course they are lit up at night, but for a real view we have to skibble up to the 28th floor (actually, we take the elevator) and then we can look out and see highways and trees and buildings as far as the smog will allow.
The kitchen came with an assortment of pots and pans; a few glasses (we've broken 4), plates and large bowls; some spoons and chopsticks and a set of children's cutlery from Ikea; 2 rice cookers (one for the microwave), a toaster and a coffee maker; dishwasher, refrigerator, microwave oven and an assortment of partially-used cleaning supplies. The dishwasher wasn't functioning - the water valve was shut and we couldn't find it to turn it on - but it's so small that the plates don't fit. It's just the right size for demitasse cups (we bought 2) or children's tea sets. We bought some small plates that fit and we run it once in a while when the timing is right. We broke the first of the big plates yesterday - perhaps we will let attrition dictate the size of our dishes as we move toward the miniature.
The washer and dryer live in the hall bathroom (Julia's bathroom, as no guests have yet shown up to claim it as theirs), and are quite small, as one would expect. The beds, alas, are king-sized, and it's not easy to find king sheets in the cheapo stores. King-sized sheets take up the entire washing machine and the comforter covers are too bulky for the dryer. We have a drying rack that came with, and most of our wet laundry goes on it. I have occasionally put the rack out on the balcony, but the floor of the balcony is so dirty that clothes need to be tightly tethered so they won't blow off and need to be rewashed. One sheet takes up almost the entire drying rack. Bill discovered that the inside of the lint trap in the dryer was full of lint but the dryer works much better now, after a more thorough lint removal. Now that Julia has 3 uniform shirts instead of just one to sweat in, laundry is somewhat less crucial. One weird thing, though - after we run the washer, after some undetermined interval, her bathroom smells like a sewer. I poured boiling water down the drains (sink, shower and floor), which caused an ominous "glug glug glug" and only brought out the essential aroma of sewer. It occurs to me that being on the second floor of a 28-story building might not be the best idea, especially in hot, sticky, sewer-smelling summer. Live and learn.
Our bedroom is light and warm with the curtains open, though for the first few days we kept the curtains closed all the time to keep in the air conditioning. As we've gotten more used to the heat we've started allowing light in. Both bedrooms have marble window seats, but we only have enough sofa pillows to outfit one window seat at a time. Julia has used hers for studying and waving at people, although she doesn't look to see if they wave back. Bill tried it and she didn't notice. The office/guest room has a yellow Ikea sofabed that is the most colorful thing in the apartment. There's a small balcony that looks out onto a park in between the two buildings of Shanghai TV. Across the street (it's a pedestrian street, so no buses) in front of the park a series of benches that are always occupied. People sit on them, sleep on them, perch temporarily and then move on. We can see some tall buildings, and of course they are lit up at night, but for a real view we have to skibble up to the 28th floor (actually, we take the elevator) and then we can look out and see highways and trees and buildings as far as the smog will allow.
Getting Settled
8/14/06 – we're here, it's hot, we may have a tenant next month, finally, and Julia celebrated her 12th birthday by throwing up. We crave fruit drinks and air conditioning. Our apartment leaves a few things to be desired but it will do. It's very urban, and the drain in Julia's bathroom smells like a sewer. The tile on the kitchen floor is white and textured to catch dirt. We're wishing we'd gotten something with a pool, but maybe we'll meet people who will invite us to theirs. Tomorrow is open house at Julia's school and I'm trying to figure out how to tell the people downstairs that I need a taxi. Maybe we'll just go out on the street and try to flag one down. We spent about $100 on our first household shopping, but we do need more stuff. We have 3 towels, 2 wash cloths, 2 sets of sheets, one very small electric blanket (courtesy of the landlords), 1/2 inch of dish soap, and an intermittently-functioning water heater, which the landlord, a young guy who went to Dominican College in San Rafael as an undergrad, promises to get fixed. His parents actually own the place, but they must live in some other part of the world.
8/16/06 – First day of school. Julia’s feeling fine, but I’m having an attack of Mao’s revenge. We decided that we would all go in a taxi instead of sending Julia off on her own in the bus, and we thought we had notified the transportation people, but at some ungodly hour the doorbell rang and it was the bus. We ignored it, not having a clue how to respond. Our first cab ride to school, for open house yesterday, was successful and took 25 minutes, although the cab driver stopped in mid-lane and let us out next to a hedge with no way onto the sidewalk but to walk along the street to the end of the shrubbery. This time the driver headed out for Hongqiao Airport about 2 miles past the school, and in Shanghai traffic this is not an insignificant distance. However, after he turned around and made it back to the vicinity of the school, we persuaded him to let us off (on the wrong side of a busy street) and we walked her across the street and into the building in time. We caught a cab coming out of school and took it over to Bill’s office in Pudong, on the other side of the river. The return trip cost about $5 and took maybe 50 minutes. There is a subway station about a 15 minute walk from school if you walk fast, which is hard to do when it’s 36o C, and I envision making the 50 minute trip by metro (one change of train and a walk at either end), to pick Julia up at school on band rehearsal days or when she has other after school activities. That costs about 50 cents. It’s nice that they have bus transportation both ways at regular school hours, but pickup for band, choir, soccer, you name it, is up to Mom.
8/18/06 – Not as hot today, and the breeze is cooler than ambient temperature – what a treat! The narrow streets where the wind doesn’t reach are still hot, though. Now that it seems that Julia’s bus pickup time is 7:20 rather than 7:30, mornings are somewhat rushed, with everyone on a different schedule. Julia’s watch is missing in action, no doubt deposited under something somewhere, so she can’t use its alarm to wake herself up. This is a big apartment, and we have too much stuff, so it’s easy enough to lose things. I lose things in my purse or backpack all the time anyway. In any case, we went downstairs at 7:15 and the bus driver and bus monitor (“ayi”) were already waiting. We’re the first stop, but not the farthest from school. Julia assures me that her friend Caitlin, who lives at the Shanghai Raquet Club, has an hour bus ride. On the other hand, Julia’s bus carries only 5 or 6 kids, leaves our apartment building at 7:20 and school starts at 8:15, so she’s one of the farther-away students in an area where few of the other students live.
Julia has made some friends at school, including one girl, Annie, whom we met at open house, who has a twin brother, Roger. They moved here from Connecticut just a few days ago, and we figure that the father, a chemist, probably works for Procter and Gamble. Julia reports that his daughter says he brought home samples of hair dye and soap. The father is Chinese. Along with Caitlin at the Raquet Club, is another Julia, whose mother emailed us in the spring. She and our Julia have all the same classes. Julia is pretty happy with her classes so far and with the private school scene, although she says music is boring because she already knows everything. She’s been designated the expert on Broadway musicals, although, as she pointed out, she’s only seen two and they weren’t even on Broadway. She finds Mandarin class confusing, but once the different levels of proficiency are separated out and she starts learning, I think she’ll be glad that we signed her up for Mandarin instead of French. She’s also enjoying wearing a uniform to school – who’d have thought? – but we only received one set of uniform pieces and can’t buy more until some time in the near future, maybe next week. Which brings up the subject of laundry, about which more later.
8/16/06 – First day of school. Julia’s feeling fine, but I’m having an attack of Mao’s revenge. We decided that we would all go in a taxi instead of sending Julia off on her own in the bus, and we thought we had notified the transportation people, but at some ungodly hour the doorbell rang and it was the bus. We ignored it, not having a clue how to respond. Our first cab ride to school, for open house yesterday, was successful and took 25 minutes, although the cab driver stopped in mid-lane and let us out next to a hedge with no way onto the sidewalk but to walk along the street to the end of the shrubbery. This time the driver headed out for Hongqiao Airport about 2 miles past the school, and in Shanghai traffic this is not an insignificant distance. However, after he turned around and made it back to the vicinity of the school, we persuaded him to let us off (on the wrong side of a busy street) and we walked her across the street and into the building in time. We caught a cab coming out of school and took it over to Bill’s office in Pudong, on the other side of the river. The return trip cost about $5 and took maybe 50 minutes. There is a subway station about a 15 minute walk from school if you walk fast, which is hard to do when it’s 36o C, and I envision making the 50 minute trip by metro (one change of train and a walk at either end), to pick Julia up at school on band rehearsal days or when she has other after school activities. That costs about 50 cents. It’s nice that they have bus transportation both ways at regular school hours, but pickup for band, choir, soccer, you name it, is up to Mom.
8/18/06 – Not as hot today, and the breeze is cooler than ambient temperature – what a treat! The narrow streets where the wind doesn’t reach are still hot, though. Now that it seems that Julia’s bus pickup time is 7:20 rather than 7:30, mornings are somewhat rushed, with everyone on a different schedule. Julia’s watch is missing in action, no doubt deposited under something somewhere, so she can’t use its alarm to wake herself up. This is a big apartment, and we have too much stuff, so it’s easy enough to lose things. I lose things in my purse or backpack all the time anyway. In any case, we went downstairs at 7:15 and the bus driver and bus monitor (“ayi”) were already waiting. We’re the first stop, but not the farthest from school. Julia assures me that her friend Caitlin, who lives at the Shanghai Raquet Club, has an hour bus ride. On the other hand, Julia’s bus carries only 5 or 6 kids, leaves our apartment building at 7:20 and school starts at 8:15, so she’s one of the farther-away students in an area where few of the other students live.
Julia has made some friends at school, including one girl, Annie, whom we met at open house, who has a twin brother, Roger. They moved here from Connecticut just a few days ago, and we figure that the father, a chemist, probably works for Procter and Gamble. Julia reports that his daughter says he brought home samples of hair dye and soap. The father is Chinese. Along with Caitlin at the Raquet Club, is another Julia, whose mother emailed us in the spring. She and our Julia have all the same classes. Julia is pretty happy with her classes so far and with the private school scene, although she says music is boring because she already knows everything. She’s been designated the expert on Broadway musicals, although, as she pointed out, she’s only seen two and they weren’t even on Broadway. She finds Mandarin class confusing, but once the different levels of proficiency are separated out and she starts learning, I think she’ll be glad that we signed her up for Mandarin instead of French. She’s also enjoying wearing a uniform to school – who’d have thought? – but we only received one set of uniform pieces and can’t buy more until some time in the near future, maybe next week. Which brings up the subject of laundry, about which more later.
Arrival
8/11/06 – We were lucky in several ways. First of all, we managed to leave home and arrive at the SFO with all our luggage (too much – 10 bags in all, ranging from small carry-ons to an extra-large roller case), 2+ hours to spare before our flight. United flight number 857 to Shanghai departed on time. Not only was there no fog, but it was unseasonably hot (remember, this is August in San Francisco) and there we were, carrying jackets and sweatshirts that we didn’t need, that we should have had room to pack. The flight wasn’t nearly full – even the flight attendants were surprised, although Wednesdays are usually their light days on that flight. Arriving in Shanghai at 6:15 p.m. it was just getting dark and not as hot as it could have been. The guys with the car meeting us were astonished at the amount of luggage we had, but c’est la vie. We got to the good old Salvo Hotel, leaving most of our bags downstairs.
This morning we discovered that we had left just in time. Thank goodness we didn’t have to root through our carry-on bags and throw out our toothpaste and conditioner, as people leaving the next day were forced to do. We woke at 7:00 after sleeping well, due, no doubt to prior sleep deprivation, and found blue skies, a scattering of puffy white clouds, and the same view we had from our hotel window in April except no rain this time. We ascended to the Western Restaurant on the 31st floor, where we were seated next to a smoker by a window looking out on the same gorgeous blue sky – atypical for Shanghai at any time of year – with the Huangpu River glistening in the middle distance. The smoker didn’t stay long, and we stuffed ourselves at the breakfast buffet, not knowing when or where we’d eat lunch. The plan was to meet Silvia (not her Chinese name), the real estate assistant, at 10:30 (we suggested 9:00) to go to the apartment.
The remaining hurdles include the fact that Sonic has not yet arranged to pay our rent in RMB rather than dollars, something they readily accomplish for the conduct of business in Shanghai. Bill has been authorized to sign the rental contract but we need to get someone to read the Chines contract to make sure it is the same as the original. I guess we’re pioneers here. By the time we leave, everything will be illuminated.
I want to thank our clean-up crew: M’Ellen, who came first and got us started, which we really needed; Gail and Ellen, who obligingly cleaned, dumped, composted, recycled and took home leftovers; Janis, who loaned us her truck and agreed to keep our car for the duration; and especially Burr, whom we left with the last of the debris and the last of the leftovers, who disposed of our extra garbage, who has agreed to look after our car until Janis can pick it up, and who is going to rent out our house for us, goddess willing. Burr is going to get a REALLY good present.
This morning we discovered that we had left just in time. Thank goodness we didn’t have to root through our carry-on bags and throw out our toothpaste and conditioner, as people leaving the next day were forced to do. We woke at 7:00 after sleeping well, due, no doubt to prior sleep deprivation, and found blue skies, a scattering of puffy white clouds, and the same view we had from our hotel window in April except no rain this time. We ascended to the Western Restaurant on the 31st floor, where we were seated next to a smoker by a window looking out on the same gorgeous blue sky – atypical for Shanghai at any time of year – with the Huangpu River glistening in the middle distance. The smoker didn’t stay long, and we stuffed ourselves at the breakfast buffet, not knowing when or where we’d eat lunch. The plan was to meet Silvia (not her Chinese name), the real estate assistant, at 10:30 (we suggested 9:00) to go to the apartment.
The remaining hurdles include the fact that Sonic has not yet arranged to pay our rent in RMB rather than dollars, something they readily accomplish for the conduct of business in Shanghai. Bill has been authorized to sign the rental contract but we need to get someone to read the Chines contract to make sure it is the same as the original. I guess we’re pioneers here. By the time we leave, everything will be illuminated.
I want to thank our clean-up crew: M’Ellen, who came first and got us started, which we really needed; Gail and Ellen, who obligingly cleaned, dumped, composted, recycled and took home leftovers; Janis, who loaned us her truck and agreed to keep our car for the duration; and especially Burr, whom we left with the last of the debris and the last of the leftovers, who disposed of our extra garbage, who has agreed to look after our car until Janis can pick it up, and who is going to rent out our house for us, goddess willing. Burr is going to get a REALLY good present.
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