French Concession

At the end of February, after our lightning visit to Berkeley, Julia and I flew back to Shanghai and I prepared to move us to a new apartment. There were several reasons for this. For one thing, our 6-month lease was up. Our first apartment in Shanghai was in a busy and interesting neighborhood, with enormous variety and teeming with people, shops and food. It was a good place to learn survival skills and it was close to the metro line that Bill takes to work. However, the apartment itself was rather dark and dreary, and in warm weather it smelled like a sewer. Being on the 2nd floor had certain advantages – for instance, we could dash down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator – but our balconies collected dirt from the street as well as the air, and they were always filthy. In the early morning we caught all the street noise – trash collectors ringing their bells, people on the way to work talking in loud voices, traffic noise and general hubbub. In addition, we were far from Julia’s school and near none of her friends and few of mine.

So we moved. Easy, I thought. After all, we had only a few (!) suitcases full of clothes when we arrived, and we’d only accumulated some dishes and bedding. How hard could it be? Well, we had more than I realized, and Julia, in the throes of homesickness after spending a few days with her Berkeley buddies, was no help at all. Thanks to the lovely, young and STRONG Silvia Zhang, real estate consultant par excellence, who arranged for a tiny moving truck and who, herself, helped me schlep suitcases, boxes and shopping bags filled with stuff down to the truck and then from the truck to our new apartment, we arrived at Ambassy (sic) Court and settled into Tower 2, apartment 7B.

The French Concession, as it’s known to westerners but not to the Chinese, is a neighborhood of low-rise buildings, some with “Heritage Architecture” plaques signifying that they will most likely not be demolished and replaced by high-rises. Not that the high-rise is absent; we live in one of a cluster of 3 buildings that go up to floor 28, lacking, of course, the unlucky numbers 4, 14 and 24. Sun Yat Sen lived near here, as did Cai Yuan Pei and Mao Ze Dong, at various times in their lives. It is also a consulate neighborhood. The US consulate is across the street, the Iranian consulate around the corner, the French consul general’s residence on the next block, and the Italians, Japanese and more are in the vicinity. Several people have suggested that if the US and Iran could just get together at the corner of Huai Hai Lu and Wulumuqi Lu, steps from their respective buildings, maybe they could work things out. It’s an easy taxi ride to Shanghai Community International School, and even better, Julia doesn’t have to be downstairs to meet the bus until 7:35 or so. Best of all, when I walk around here I run into people I know, and we are only 2 blocks from Zapata’s, the site of the American Women’s Club’s weekly get-together: free margaritas Wednesdays from 5 pm on, and the appetizers aren’t bad, considering how far we are from Mexico. Now that Julia is comfortable enough to stay home alone and finish her homework, I can go off and get sloshed with the ladies and then stagger home in time to sober up before bed. This is the life.

Our current place has a fabulous gym and spa, an indoor pool that we’ve barely used and an outdoor pool that opens in mid-May. We no longer have 3 bedrooms, which means that guests have to sleep in the living room, since the plan to kick Julia out of her room upon arrival of visitors has not so far worked out. We keep the computer and DSL connection in our bedroom, which means that I wake up when Bill begins his early morning conference calls. This was only really a problem when Julia and I were sick, which was only for 2 or 3 weeks in March and April, during some of which time we had guests in the living room. We’re no longer around the corner from Wujiang Lu, our favorite food street, but there are baozi, onion pancakes and other treats available just a few blocks away. The double-decker 911 bus stops across the street from SCIS and lets us off across the street from our apartment building at a cost of 2 rmb per trip. All in all, a good move.