Catshanghai

It is getting much colder in Shanghai, which reminds me that has this city has more than four seasons. I reckon Shanghai has seven seasons. Here is a rundown:

In my view Shanghai has seven seasons, but they are not always clearcut. For example, I have experienced cold snaps in November and tropical, humid weather in March. I still find it surprising how quickly Shanghai changes from being warm and balmy to hats and scarves weather. It is not very cold yet, but we have already turned on the heating function in our air conditioner. We expect to switch on the underfloor heating in the next few weeks.

Jenny has just remodelled Projection 216 and we have written a schedule of films that are going to show up until Christmas.

I’m looking forward to Baron Munchausen, because I haven’t seen it yet and Terry Gilliam is a great visual director.

Dr Strangelove shows Peter Sellers at his best playing multiple characters in Kubrick’s bizarre and zany cold war satire.

Wild Zero mixes the Japanese punk rock of Guitar Wolf and zombie horror to good effect, although I’ve always found Guitar Wolf are more stylistic than substantial.

Blade Runner is perfect iconic science fiction and The Big Lebowski is one of the funniest films I have ever seen.

The newest film we’re going to show is ‘Flashbacks of a Fool’, which shows Daniel Craig playing a washed up middle aged actor reflecting on his youth in a sleepy seaside before everything went wrong.

Jenny chose these films. Is there a theme that ties these films together? None of the protagonists in these films are classically heroic, alpha males. Even the Harrison Ford character in Blade Runner has doubts about his humanity, whereas Guitar Wolf is just silly. All posts about Projection 216 come with the disclaimer that I’m married to the boss and that people wishing to go to a film should call before to reserve a place. Tickets are 15 RMB to cover refreshments.

Projection 216
Room 216, Building 3, Lane 210
Taikang Road, Shanghai, PRC
泰康 路210弄 3
号楼216 室
021-54656616

I’ve just returned from Hainan Island with a group of 56 teenagers.

It was a great trip, but I am happy to be home in Shanghai even though the Shanghai weather is deteriorating day by day. Highlights in Hainan included Houhai Beach and Yanoda Rainforest Park.

I was a teacher supervisor, which meant I spent the week observing from the sidelines as the children got stuck into surfing, swimming and beach games. Houhai is wonderful, because it is so good to find a deserted location free from crowds of tourists. I didn’t surf, but I really enjoyed scrabbling on the granite rocks until we found a cave with natural air conditioning.

It is still very hot and the sun is very strong. Hainan is the only place in China that has all year summer.

We also spent some time at Yanoda. Yanoda manages to do a fine job of taming a rainforest without ruining it. The paths in the forest made it accessible without being like a twee theme park. We saw Banyan trees, vines, ferns, rocks and complex ecosystems. The headsets used a geolocator to trigger each commentary, but they should have recruited a native English speaker without the syrupy and repetitive use of ‘Dear Visitor’. All the staff were also welcoming and ultra polite, but they don’t need to make the Yanoda v-finger symbol to everyone on every occasion.

We spent a night camping at Yanoda. Our students are living in the gilded cage of affluent Shanghai expat life so living in the great outdoors is a much needed antedote to the soft living that these teenagers are so familiar with. We didn’t really rough it, however. The camp site had great eco-friendly toilets and hot showers. The camp staff also prepared an amazing barbecue of fish, meat and vegetables. The local villagers even put on a show of Li music and dancing that I must upload at the earliest available opportunity.

Every group also had the chance to go canyoning on rocks and through streams wearing funny straw shoes that look like a cross between flip flops and mini boats. They managed to keep us on our feet mostly.

Going back to Hainan was an amazing experience. Our school organises activity week trips at the beginning of each November. It is always one of the highlights of the school year, because it opens up our students’ horizons while developing their social skills. The best memories and lessons often happen outside the confines of a formal classroom. The best thing about our school are the students who are some of the nicest young people you could ever hope to meet. The only thing I would like to change about future trips is that it should be a little more difficult for them so they are even more challenged as they develop their social skills and sense of adventure.

I heard a funny story over the weekend about European exporters copying a Shanghai based fashion designer.

We enjoyed hearing our friend Cho Cho tell us about a European customer who bought some of her clothes from her shop. Cho Cho runs the Neither Nor label and she has a few shops in and near Changle Lu. Most customers buy for themselves, but this customer bought the clothes as samples to copy and export to Europe. She hired another designer to make and export the clothes, but the customer didn’t know that she had subcontracted one of Cho Cho’s friend. Most fashion designers would be miffed to find out about people copying their ideas to make expensive clothes for overseas markets, but Cho Cho thought this was quite funny. I sensed she was even flattered to the extent that she offered to help her friend work on the order by supplying design patterns and fabric.

Usually you hear stories about Chinese companies lifting ideas, trademarks and IP from European, Japanese and American designers. I think of Meizu’s HiPhone, which bears a strong resemblence to a certain famous Apple handset (See this story). It’s refreshing to see the situation reversed. I look forward to seeing Chinese designs and innovations making inroads overseas. It’s bound to happen in the next few decades. Cho Cho’s anecdote shows that European designers are already starting to take note of Chinese fashion.

I passed out in Century Avenue Metro Station on Sunday afternoon after feeling light headed.

I’m not sure what triggered the episode. We had been walking around Century Park on a fresh autumn day whereas the metro station was piping hot, stuffy air. I had little warning. After feeling a little weak and light headed, I stood by Jenny hoping for the feeling to pass or for the train to arrive. Then everything went black for a minute or two. It was like falling asleep.

Jenny said that the colour drained from my face as I slumped to the floor. I remember having vague dream like thoughts before coming to and standing up. I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything for a few moments until vision gradually came into focus and colour. I tried to reassure Jenny that I was OK, but then I passed out again.

This time I was more aware and the fainting episode seemed briefer. By this stage a gang of people apparently gathered to look at this foreigner falling down, but someone was very kind in getting help from the station staff who came to my side with a wheelchair.

I remember coming to again and not being able to see. As my sight slowly returned, I remember seeing the train leave with the thought that we should have boarded. I couldn’t really move for a little while so the staff put me in a wheelchair to help me out of the station.

I had recovered from the fainting episode by this stage and I kept telling Jenny and the station staff that I was OK. Passing out left me feeling weak and slightly feverish. We got a taxi home and I spent the evening recuperating. I was still feeling fragile yesterday and I should see a doctor to investigate further.

This is not the first time I have passed out. It happened three years when I first knew Jenny. On that occasion, Jenny saw me fall down in a poorly ventilated bathroom. She said that it was terrifying to see me look like I was going to die going to die. I’m still here, but Jenny told me that the fear of losing me helped her decide that she wanted to stay with me for the long haul.

We cannot take our health for granted, especially in Shanghai. I am still shocked by the sudden death of Jolly who recently died after a brief illness. She suffered multiple organ failure as a result of blood poisoning. She was only 34 years old.

Here are some choices for English language short form television in China:

1. Terrestrial TV Channels

CCTV 9 is China’s state sponsored English language news and cultural programmes. Nothing here will rock the boat with Beijing and it has the distinction of hosting the most tedious TV show to have ever graced the airwaves - ‘Dialogue’

ICS is a new English and Japanese station that has some English language films such as old Sinbad films.

2. Satellite TV

Many of my colleagues pay 2000 RMB to get a dish fitted so they can watch Star Sports, BBC World and HBO Asia. We bought a second hand dish from a colleague a year ago that we have never fitted. I have no feeling for televised sport and I get all the content I need from other sources.

3. Streaming Internet Video

Youtube is the famous site for streaming video, but it can be slow as all international web traffic goes through Beijing. Hulu has great content, but you need an American VPN such as Witopia.net or Hotspot Shield to make the site think you are surfing from a US IP address, which can be slow. I would like to be able to use the BBC’s Iplayer to view UK tv shows, but you need a UK IP address for this service to work. It is only available to people in the UK. I have been having fun watching some old episodes of ‘Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares’ on Tudou, which is China’s answer to Youtube. Joost works in China, but it has a poor selection of content.

4. Livestation

Livestation is a piece of software that uses the Internet to stream live television from around the globe. Stations include BBC World and Al Jazeera. Sometimes the picture is jerky and buffers, but CNN works really well.

5. Torrents

Some people use torrent sites such as Pirate Bay, UK Nova or BT Junkie to download international tv shows that are otherwise unavailable in China.

6. DVDs

DVDs exist for many television shows from The Apprentice to Desperate Housewives and Battlestar Galactica. Buying a few of these will mean you have your own personal tv station. A word of warning is that many DVDs in China are pirated.

7. Video Podcasts

Go to Itunes and search for short form video. Content includes news, technology, music and comedy.

8. Itunes TV shows

People can buy and downoad TV shows if they have credit or debit cards registered in a country that has an Itunes store.

I have just finished Hsiao-Hung Pai’s compelling, but disturbing account of Chinese immigrant workers in the UK. Reading this book made me ashamed of my country and made me feel about the ugly face of globalisation.

According to Hsiao-Hung there are hundreds of thousands of Chinese people working in the UK without legal status. They are among the poorest paid as farm labourers, factory assemblers, cockle pickers, domestic live in helps, catering staff, sex workers, DVD sellers and builders.

Many Chinese migrant workers originate from Fujian, Guangdong, Heilonjiang and Shanghai. They overstay their business/ student visas or they are smuggled into the UK by criminal gangs for thousands of pounds, which their families must borrow from moneylenders in pursuit of better opportunities overseas. Too often these dreams are shattered by long hours for little money in poor, unsafe conditions and squalid overcrowded accommodation. The characters in this story have no access to legal protection and basic healthcare. When they are unpaid or even beaten by unscrupulous bosses or gangmasters they cannot file a report with the police. Chinese migants in the UK remain stoic and invisible while they move from job to job to pay off their debts and send money back to their families in their hometowns. Hsiao-Hung notes:

This book is about a parallel society, the hidden army of labour, that carries on its existence far behind the facade of the British high street. The people in this group are commonly known in the popular media as the ‘illegals’, but I prefer to think of them as the ‘undocumented’.

I was really moved by Hsiao-Hung’s book, because it was about people struggling to survive in very difficult circumstances. Data and numbers count for little when you are reading about suffering. Stories about individuals matter far more. Ah-Hua was selling DVDs for gangsters in Manchester while Ren was picking salad in Selsey. All of the characters in this book seem condemned to a very hard life of struggle, but there are glimmers of hope as Xiao Yun finds work in a beauty salon and Xiao Li gets recognition as a very capable chef.

Hsiao-Hung is a freelance journalist who grew up in Taiwan before moving to the UK as a graduate student in 1991. She managed to inflitrate these networks of migrant workers by pretending to be one herself. She recognises that she has the luxury of being able to escape back into her world of research, writing and campaigns, but how many journalists would work undercover at a brothel or food processing plant?

This book would be a great piece of fiction about struggle and survival. It reminds me of ‘Man Push Cart’, except these sad stories have really happened. I am struck by the irony of being a migrant worker in Shanghai who is enjoying a very privileged life among very welcoming people while Jenny has always had a great time during her two visits to the UK. Would she have been welcomed so warmly if she had arrived under different circumstances out of the back of a snakehead’s people smuggler?

It is also worth noting that the biggest bullies in this book are often other migrant workers who have set up unlicensed employment agencies or act as landlords in houses that sleep six to a room. The British Government is blamed for victimising undocumented workers as ‘illegals’ while the economy benefits from cheap labour. In a sense we are all to blame for enjoying our comfortable lives while others work very hard to make our easy lifestyles possible.

Chinese Whispers is available from Amazon.com.

We have exciting news. Jenny is pregnant. Our first baby will be born in Shanghai next May.

I have been reticent about making this news public. Many western couples only tell people after twelve weeks. After the first trimester the pregnancy will become more obvious and the couple can be more confident that the baby is going to make it to full term. It is seen as unlucky to tell friends and acquaintances too early.

There is nothing to stop a Chinese couple from announcing the news to the world as they soon as they get a positive pregnancy test. China has different prenatal superstitions including a fear of cats. We have been told by well meaning friends and family that our beloved cat (Chog) is going to trouble our unborn baby.

Let’s pull the cat superstition apart. I was born into a household of four cats and I am still perfectly healthy. I come from a place where babies and cats have happily coexisted for hundreds of years. It is possible to get toxoplasmosis, rabies and ring worm from cats, but Chog does not go outside and we wash our hands after stroking him. Jenny has just had a blood test that confirms that she has not contracted ring worm or any other cat disease. The biggest worry with Chog is that he will get jealous and try to sit on the baby in the cot. We just need to be sensible to make sure the cat is never left unsupervised with the baby in the first 24 months.

This is a post about our baby rather than our cat. There are plenty of other health hazards that could trouble our unborn baby such as poor air, heavy bags, dirty water, toxic milk, crazy taxi drivers, nasty neighbours and the relentless pace of life in this manic city. We are trying our best to manage these so Jenny can go through her pregnancy without any problems.

We are only 7 or 8 weeks into the pregnancy, but Jenny is already noticing that she is very sensitive to strong smells, cigarette smoke and she gets tired very easy. She used to enjoy chocolate and fried food, but now she needs to eat small, simple meals on a regular basis. Jenny now enjoys Chinese tea, congee, fruit and vegetables. She used to like partying until 3am, but now she is curled up in bed before 10 o’clock. She feels sick to be in the same room as a computer and she can only watch films occasionally.

Therefore our routines have already started to anticipate the fact that our lives will never be the same again. It is as if we are having a simple life in preparation for the chaos and loss of sleep that we will experience after the birth. We sit in bed at 10pm reading books and watching a little Chinese TV. Jenny enjoys looking at pictures of beautiful babies and we enjoy talking to the baby for a couple of minutes before turning the lights out.

We went to the Maternity hospital on Lujiabang Lu to confirm the pregnancy a few weeks ago. It is very funny to see that bringing babies into China is a big business with a price tag to fit any budget. A colleague recently had a baby at Shanghai East Medical Centre. Her insurance plan paid a contribution, but it cost her 30 000 RMB to have a baby in an elegant western hospital.

We don’t need English speaking doctors to help Jenny through her pregnancy so our choices are a little different. The hospital clerk told us that the cost of pregnancy ranged from 36 RMB right up to 1800 RMB. I am not sure how the service changes if you opt for the cut price option, but there was a three hour queue in one waiting room and Jenny paid an upfront fee of 600 RMB to cover the cost of blood tests and consultations. She did not have to wait very long to see a doctor. We paid to jump the queues.

I am always amused by the matter of fact way that China deals with bodily functions. I saw young women walking around the hospital carrying urine samples in test tubes. Would this happen in the UK? I suspect not.

Jenny and her mother are looking around for a good hospital that will take care of Jenny and her baby before and after the delivery. We are also looking for a prenatal yoga class.

I guess this post is a public announcement. I am going to be a Dad. I’d like to talk to any foreigners based in Shanghai who already know the ropes. Micah?

Our appartment was flooded after a badly fitted bathroom pipe snapped at the end of August.

The water gushed out during the early hours of the morning while we were sleeping. It was a shock to be woken by a knock at the door and a realisation that the floor was covered in 4mm of turgid water, which we had to scoop out using buckets, bowls and towels.

There was some damage to wooden floor tiles and paint work, but it could have been much worse. The contractors repaired the paintwork over this past weekend. We had to wait for a few weeks while it dried out.

The contractors took full responsibility for fixing any damage. You would have a difficult job finding obvious signs of flooding. Some events should be left behind without any reminders. I could have got sulky about this minor catastrophe, but our appartment has been repaired by contractors who were helpful and responsive.

Such reasonable stoicism is falling deaf upon our downstairs neighbours’ ears. The flooding came through their ceiling in two places. The water dripped through over a couple of days. They were unhappy, which is quite understandable. Immediately, they made an arbitrary demand for 3000 RMB compensation to cover compensation to their damaged belongings. Later they changed the story to say that paint was bad for the wife’s blood. This was later modified to a tale about the unbearable smell of paint. It is worth noting that the only consistent part of our neighbour’s story has been the figure of 3000 RMB.

We have been polite and helpful by promising to repair any damage and compensating them for any genuine losses. The contractors inspected the ceilings at the beginning of the month and informed our enterprising neighbour that the damage was very easy to fix. We were willing to pay 500 RMB as a goodwill gesture and the contractors were happy to fix the damage that the faulty pipe had caused. No other compensation would be needed.

The wife was not happy to learn that her hopes for 3000 RMB would not be realised. She became hostile by pestering Jenny and spreading rumours that we were colluding with the contractors. Maybe we should not have sent her an SMS saying that the problem was entirely in her head, but the matter was referred to our building’s neighbourhood committee. The committee is made up of two very nice old Shanghainese women.

The old women have been wonderful diplomats. They patiently heard both sides of the story and mediated a settlement between us and our unreasonable neighbours. The committee told our neighbours to refer problems to them rather than to every resident and security guard she can moan at. The workmen will fix our neighbour’s ceiling and we will pay them 700 RMB compensation. We are happy to get on with our lives without any more fuss.

The trouble is that our neighbour is still trying to play the situation like Prince Machiavelli. The neighbour refused to allow the contractors to fix her ceiling over the weekend in case we doublecrossed her and refused to pay her any money. She instructed the neighbourship committee to draft a contract guaranteeing that we honour our agreement to repair any damage and to pay her 700 RMB compensation, which they are holding in escrow. Now we are contractually obliged to honour our agreement. We would have honoured this agreement anyway.

I feel sorry for our neighbour. Walking around with so much distrust and cynicism must be quite a burden. I’m sure she lost a few nights sleep worrying how she was going to get us to pay her 3000 RMB. She could have saved herself this trouble by thinking about the concepts of quid pro quo and being neighbourly. I would have happily paid 5000 RMB to repair her ceiling, but it doesn’t warm your heart to be confronted with an arbitrary invoice making demands that have no basis in reality. Americans call this a shake down. The going rate for goodwill compensation is 500 RMB without getting the contractors to make good any damage. Did she look at this laowai and see dollar signs?

I wonder how our neighbour would have responded if she came across an hysterical woman demanding 3000 RMB as compensation for a minor house repair.

I live in Puxi but I need to get to my school in Kangqiao, Pudong. Here are my realistic commuting choices.

I could ride a bicycle for 20 minutes before boarding a company bus that takes me to school. It’s a good workout that increases my heart rate without having to find a spare hour to go the gym. I enjoy listening to podcasts as I see old people exercising on Xizang Lu at 7am. During the warmer months, I arrive at the bus stop dripping in sweat and it’s not good for days when it is raining. Overall, it is a good way to start the day. It’s totally free and my bike is ghastly to look at that it has not yet been stolen. There is a downside that I need to be organised to leave the house on time before 6.45 am. I cannot carry much, although I cycle with a Macbook over my shoulder. The bus is also getting crowded and I don’t have enough time to get ready for classes once I have arrived at school. The journey is an adventure, but I am sure I am going to have an accident one day. Other cyclists, taxis, buses and pedestrians are constantly surprising me.
Total journey time: 60 to 75 minutes

I could also take a taxi to the bus stop, which costs 15 RMB. There is often a fleet of taxis parked outside the hotel opposite my building early each weekday morning. The taxi drivers like to cherry pick long, expensive airport fares and a taxi ride deprives me of my morning workout.
Total journey time: 60 minutes

The quickest and most convenient way to work is to take the taxi from my appartment to school. It only takes 25 minutes and I get to daydream with my ipod until I arrive at school for an early start. The taxi fare is 45 RMB each way, which soon starts to add up if you take a ride alone everyday.

I have also experimented with taking a metro to Longyang Lu before taking a taxi to school. The taxi fare is 25 RMB from Longyang Lu, which is not a great saving considering it takes almost as long as getting the school bus. Changing crowded metros and finding a taxi are hassles I could do without.

Getting home is a different challenge. The bus leaves at 5pm, which gives me some time to get things done after school ends at 3.15 pm. On a good day, the bus can get back to Madang Lu in 35 minutes, but traffic jams and bad weather can double the journey time. Finding a taxi during rush hour is very challenging. I can walk home in 45 minutes or cycle home in 25 minutes. It is often dark and treacherous to cycle back, but I enjoy my ride around Lujiabang Lu’s back streets. You see old men fixing bikes and vendors selling food. I enjoy listening to podcasts and stopping off in DVD shops. It’s one of my favourite times of the day if I am not in a hurry and it is not raining.