One Night in Shanghai

On Tuesday, Faye and I were sitting in Monty’s Steakhouse having dinner with two friends. Monty’s is in Shanghai. We had stopped there for 12 rainy hours before our flight to Southeast Asia took off.

Before I get into that, let me back up a little bit.

Shanghai has always been one of those nebulous places that occupies something of an apathetic position bordering on contempt in my mind. I think of it as excessively trendy, a haven for old acquaintances I’d prefer never see again, et cetera.

It’s funny how we build up places in our minds and in turn warp our perspectives. We read a little in Lonely Planet, listen to friend’s stories, stalk photos on Flickr and formulate reasons to like or not like a place before ever setting foot.

Or more acutely, which places to put resources into visiting and which places to not.

And Shanghai is one of those places that we know all about without ever setting foot there. We know the feel, the smell and the texture of its substance. The layout is always jenga’d differently than what we construct in our psyche, but the conclusion is the same.

At the end of the day, I had seen the People’s Square, ridden on a mag rail that traveled 430 kilometers per hour, stopped by a couple of museums, admired the European-inspired building architecture, trekked up Nan Jing Road and explored the Bund.

Carpe diem and all that jazz.

In a nutshell, Shanghai is a more refined version of Beijing with a nice ocean view and slightly more infrastructure. It’s also less dusty and the Shanghaise have narrower faces than Beijingers.

So back to Monty’s. In a profound way, Shanghai was Monty’s to me. Or rather, Monty’s was Shanghai, whichever. It was the very last thing we did. And it ended up causing us to miss our train back to the airport, prompting an expensive taxi scramble to make the flight in time.

(For your reference, the last mag rail train going back to Pu Dong International Airport is 9:30pm sharp.)

These are the “amusing in hindsight” details.

When we arrived at Monty’s, we were soaked in a pungent mixture of rain and sweat. This important to note up-front because Monty’s is strictly a black tie affair. Not a tech t-shirt, green travel shorts and Teva’s kind of place. Even more so when you’re soaked to the bone.

But when your friends are the temporary managers, exceptions can be made.

For about two hours we caught up with our friends Xiawu and Patrick and enjoyed live renditions of Johny Cash music. And the food defies all adjectives known to man.

(Let’s also say that quality of what you’re getting far exceeds its price. If you’re in town, find it.)

And so we sat out of place perfectly in place — if that conjures any sense at all.

And perhaps that’s what travel is evolving into for me. Faraway places no longer seem so far away. Exotic food is a nice accent, but hardly inaccessible. But catching up with people in a faraway location with both good conversation and good food on the tip of your tongue is definitively enjoyable.

There’s other accents, too.

Details like “missed trains” and “soaking wet from the rain” are afterthoughts that shape the real experience of holding my girlfriend’s hand as we gleefully walk in a downpour with touts everywhere trying to get us to buy an umbrella and sign us up for their safe, dry world.

These are profound moments difficult to express in writing. They make life extraordinary, in my opinion.

And that’s exactly how I spent my night in Shanghai.

Update: For those wondering, the psychedelic tunnel pictures are long exposures of the Bund “amusement park” ride from one side of the harbor to the other.

They are, to my great joy, a little on the abstract side.

August 13th, 2008 in Photography, Travel |