On the drive up, we (actually mostly Bel and his dad) were obsessed with passing every car (including Mike's) on the most illegal of turns. Bel's dad drove - at times like a mad man - Bel played DJ, I read, and Nick and Bis worked. Though mostly they bickered like an old married couple (something about bagel crumbs in the car). And even with Bel's navigational skills, we made it and managed to meet up with the Ben and Mike, and Doug and Mark.
Doug and Mark had sacrificed for the group and drove up the night before - literally, midnight the night before - to pick up our permits in the morning. After some heinous whiskey and a sleepless night in the car, they were delirious and ready to roll. Doug fortified himself with Power Bars, and continued to do so for the next two days.
Bis, our fearless leader, cracked his whip when anyone (mainly me) fell behind. He kept us on a tight schedule - which in the end was a good thing otherwise we'd still be at the base of Half Dome.
After like a million river crossings (my absolute favorite), we got lost like five times. But it was highly amusing watching five extremely smart (ex-boy scout, engineer, lawyer, product manager, ex-goat herder etc.) guys try to figure out where we were and what direction we should go while refusing to use a map or compass.
It worked itself out (actually Bis just made the decision for us) and our first night, we had a camp fire and slept with the tent mesh open unto the stars.
The next morning, we were amazed and impressed when Jennifer and Siona actually found us at our camp, considering we didn't even know where the hell we were. Luckily for us - more women and Jennifer - who confidently led us through the valley, pass Nevada Falls and that other big one, to the base of Half Dome, where we set-up camp. After a tasty tuna sandwich ala chicken soup flavoring, peanut butter and honey, and more Power Bars for Doug, we started the ascent.
It was pretty brutal - to be honest. I drooled for a Gatorade slushy the entire way up Half Dome. And that lifesaver I got from Jennifer saved my ass - literally. I don't think I would've made it up that last stretch of cables had it not been for that lifesaver - the 'best tasting lifesaver ever,' according to Mike. Highlights at the top included sightings of a cute Marmot and dirty 'glacier.'
That night, to toast our successful summit, we treated ourselves with Doug and Mark's whiskey and warm champagne from the bear tin. Next time, we need follow Jennifer's lead and bring a tin of oysters and those Indian squares, though those Thai noodles were pretty tasty.
And Bel was right, something about iodine water is actually refreshing.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006
I ate meat
And lots of it - fried bistec y arroz, chicken & beans, even spicy turkey (my most hated meat) and beans and rice from the vendors at the boat dock. Maybe it was the heat, or the 'when in Guatemala (or Belize) do as Guatemalan's (or Belizeans) do' mentality, or the plain fact that I could either eat meat or not eat.
Antigua
For such a little town (you can walk from one end to the other in 45 minutes), there sure were a lot of cathedrals. And of course I just HAD to hit most of the big ones in town. I also couldn't get enough of the Spanish colonial architecture, especially the quaint pastel stucco houses - SO CUTE. We stayed at an amazing hotel - Casa del Santo Domingo - which was an old monastery turned hotel.
Tikal
Site of one of the largest Mayan ruins in the hot jungles of northern Guatemala. Thank god we opted for the 'nicer' housing option in Tikal. Tikal Inn, situated inside the national park, was a circle of bungalows, dotted with tropical plants and surrounding a nice swimming pool. In well over 100 degree heat and over 100% humidity, there wasn't much to do between noon and 4 pm but swim and read by the pool.
It was here that I wolfed down fried bistec and rice like there was no tommorrow. It was DEELISH. True, it may have been so tasty because I was ravenous as we had woke up at the crack of dawn to catch a flight, skipped breakfast, and walked in 90 degree heat for four hours looking at ruins.
Belize
Snorkeling and shopping about sums it up. The best meal in Belize was at the boat dock - spicy chicken or turkey, beans and rice. Otherwise, Belizean fare is a strange mix of mexicana, americana and random bits of south american fare thrown in.
Guatemala was the beginning of the end so to speak. Since this trip, I've expanded my meat repertoire (beyond proscuitto, carpaccio, baby veal cheeks, and beef tartar that is) to include most meats (pork, chicken, and even limited beef) with the exception of turkey and steak.
Antigua
For such a little town (you can walk from one end to the other in 45 minutes), there sure were a lot of cathedrals. And of course I just HAD to hit most of the big ones in town. I also couldn't get enough of the Spanish colonial architecture, especially the quaint pastel stucco houses - SO CUTE. We stayed at an amazing hotel - Casa del Santo Domingo - which was an old monastery turned hotel.
Tikal
Site of one of the largest Mayan ruins in the hot jungles of northern Guatemala. Thank god we opted for the 'nicer' housing option in Tikal. Tikal Inn, situated inside the national park, was a circle of bungalows, dotted with tropical plants and surrounding a nice swimming pool. In well over 100 degree heat and over 100% humidity, there wasn't much to do between noon and 4 pm but swim and read by the pool.
It was here that I wolfed down fried bistec and rice like there was no tommorrow. It was DEELISH. True, it may have been so tasty because I was ravenous as we had woke up at the crack of dawn to catch a flight, skipped breakfast, and walked in 90 degree heat for four hours looking at ruins.
Belize
Snorkeling and shopping about sums it up. The best meal in Belize was at the boat dock - spicy chicken or turkey, beans and rice. Otherwise, Belizean fare is a strange mix of mexicana, americana and random bits of south american fare thrown in.
Guatemala was the beginning of the end so to speak. Since this trip, I've expanded my meat repertoire (beyond proscuitto, carpaccio, baby veal cheeks, and beef tartar that is) to include most meats (pork, chicken, and even limited beef) with the exception of turkey and steak.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Omigod I'm a yuppy
My knitting date forgot to bring her supplies (I'm trying not to drink so much hence knitting on a Friday night) so I ended up going to my friend's place because her sister was making Indian food and "having a couple of friends over." I was in a sort of 'shoot the shit' mood, plus, it was Friday and I was pooped from the week, so figured this would be a chill activity.
A couple of friends ended up being being twenty or so barefoot hippies, many of whom were ex-heroine addicts turned yogis, who are friends through yoga (of course) and gardening. The occasion was a farewell send-off for one dude leaving for India. Everyone was super friendly and nice, but I could tell this was a gathering of hippies.
Asking a simple question like "Oh, how do you guys know each other," resulted in a twenty -minute pontification about the "AMAZING , BEAUTIFUL connections in life and people, and how DO we know each other? Oh from everywhere, from nowhere, from yoga, from gardening, but just, you know, from AROUND." RIGHT. OK. My ADHD brain stopped listening after the first sentence (because, really, that's all it should've taken right??).
Suddenly, all conversation was interrupated, as the dinner party was co-opted into a "circle" by the dude going to India. (YES, like a women's "circle", not to be mean but...just the thought of having to be in one makes me want to kill myself). We were supposed to go around the circle and each person would share their "thoughts" and "feelings" about the dude's "spiritual journey" to India, so that everyone can "share the energy" and "expand their thoughts". One woman talked about having a women's circle on the same day he was arriving in India, and how he would be in their thoughts, and how they (the women) would "connect" with him and his hippy friends in India. Another woman talked about "when you go there as a white man and are the minority amongst the COLORED people, remember how that feels and come back with that FEELING, and remember it." OH BROTHER. Then the long, white-haired, Willie Nelson-look alike played the guitar and sang a song. Each 'sharing of thoughts' was punctuated by long periods of silence.
OH
MY
GAAAAWWDDUUHHH
This was driving me over the edge. Specifically, words like "beautiful", "amazing", "spiritual", "connection" and "energy" used in one run-on sentence drive me over the edge. Why can't I just continue in the conversation I was having with the musician dude next to me about Charlie Hunter? Or the conversation I was having with my friend about her great aunt's deceased ex-husband, a famous Spanish painter? I mean, I'm not anti-hippy by any means, and if people want to talk in meaningless circles about nothing, by all means please do. But, COME ON, I shouldn't have to be forced into talking about "energy" on a Friday night. Even still, I knew I was being mean-spirited but felt somewhat redeemed when my friend's hippy sister pulls me into the bathroom and confides "I hate this sh*t."
I couldn't take it anymore, and went home to salvage some of the evening. Now I'm relaxing on my Mies van der Rohr Barcelona chair, knitting and watching Cecilia Bartok and Bryn Terfel sing excerpts from Marriage of Figaro and Magic Flute. I'm a yuppy, damnit, and proud of it.
A couple of friends ended up being being twenty or so barefoot hippies, many of whom were ex-heroine addicts turned yogis, who are friends through yoga (of course) and gardening. The occasion was a farewell send-off for one dude leaving for India. Everyone was super friendly and nice, but I could tell this was a gathering of hippies.
Asking a simple question like "Oh, how do you guys know each other," resulted in a twenty -minute pontification about the "AMAZING , BEAUTIFUL connections in life and people, and how DO we know each other? Oh from everywhere, from nowhere, from yoga, from gardening, but just, you know, from AROUND." RIGHT. OK. My ADHD brain stopped listening after the first sentence (because, really, that's all it should've taken right??).
Suddenly, all conversation was interrupated, as the dinner party was co-opted into a "circle" by the dude going to India. (YES, like a women's "circle", not to be mean but...just the thought of having to be in one makes me want to kill myself). We were supposed to go around the circle and each person would share their "thoughts" and "feelings" about the dude's "spiritual journey" to India, so that everyone can "share the energy" and "expand their thoughts". One woman talked about having a women's circle on the same day he was arriving in India, and how he would be in their thoughts, and how they (the women) would "connect" with him and his hippy friends in India. Another woman talked about "when you go there as a white man and are the minority amongst the COLORED people, remember how that feels and come back with that FEELING, and remember it." OH BROTHER. Then the long, white-haired, Willie Nelson-look alike played the guitar and sang a song. Each 'sharing of thoughts' was punctuated by long periods of silence.
OH
MY
GAAAAWWDDUUHHH
This was driving me over the edge. Specifically, words like "beautiful", "amazing", "spiritual", "connection" and "energy" used in one run-on sentence drive me over the edge. Why can't I just continue in the conversation I was having with the musician dude next to me about Charlie Hunter? Or the conversation I was having with my friend about her great aunt's deceased ex-husband, a famous Spanish painter? I mean, I'm not anti-hippy by any means, and if people want to talk in meaningless circles about nothing, by all means please do. But, COME ON, I shouldn't have to be forced into talking about "energy" on a Friday night. Even still, I knew I was being mean-spirited but felt somewhat redeemed when my friend's hippy sister pulls me into the bathroom and confides "I hate this sh*t."
I couldn't take it anymore, and went home to salvage some of the evening. Now I'm relaxing on my Mies van der Rohr Barcelona chair, knitting and watching Cecilia Bartok and Bryn Terfel sing excerpts from Marriage of Figaro and Magic Flute. I'm a yuppy, damnit, and proud of it.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Sunday, January 01, 2006
French Laundry
Chinese toe jam
I was surrounded by Beijing-ers, men, on the flight to and from Shanghai. The memory of stinky Chinese 'toe jam' floated back and floaded my nostrils. Actually it's not toe jam or anything related to a dirty foot, it's typical Chinese BO because they, like the French, do not shower every day or even regularly. Unless you are wealthy and have your own bathroom, most locals go to public showers where you pay to take communal showers.
Huuaaaaack!
A flying loogie lands, barely missing me, on the sidewalk. GROSS DUDE. Regardless the pace of 'modernization', some things never change. Or at least, they haven't changed yet.
Fat kids eating something-on-a-stick.
Mala (hot and spicy)-on-a-stick. Squid-on-a-stick. Candied crab-apples-on-a-stick. DUDE. Not only are they fat, they lack manners and are spoiled - a truly unfortunate consequence of the one-child policy and overly indulgent grandparents (because both sets now only have one grandchild to fawn over). These kids, particularly boys, will grow up to be the crass, fat, arrogant, loogie-hocking, chauvinist 'pigs' that typify Chinese business men - and who personify the modern China that I detest.
"Li Hai"
You can't be nice and polite to Shanghainese otherwise they'll walk all over you, seriously. The more "li hai" you are - bitchy and mean - the less likely taxi drivers and shop keepers will yell at you for no reason. No wonder Shanghainese women are so aggressive.
"You get used to it and learn to ignore it"
Passport incident. Immigration officer yells at me because he could't find space in my passport for him to stamp. Oh please, the stamp was tiny and there was space. "Ni jiao wo zeng me an zhang?? Mei you kong de di fang, ni jiao wo zeng me zhang??" I was furious, as in I wanted to curse him out in English, but bit my tongue because, of course, I needed to enter the country. I just stared back and begrudgingly he found a space to put his blasted stamp.
"Ben bang cai"
Shanghainese love their crab - nan yang xie fen xiao long bao (crab eggs in soup dumplings), da za xie ("big crab"), drunken crab, xie fen dofu (stringy tofu with crab meat). Other popular dishes include hong shao ro (cubes of meat that's mostly layers of fat), crispy sea cucumber, kao fu (spongy, slightly sweet glutinous cubes), he xia (river shrimp), luo bo si bing (white turnip pastries), pickled cucumbers.
"Aiya ni tai ke qi" (overly generous relatives)
After three consecutive meals of eating the same crab dishes, we were Shanghaines-ed out. But overly ke qi (polite) relatives and family friends continued to insist on treating us to Shanghainese dinners. We managed to basically lie our way out of all but one. The thing is - they really don't want to have to host another holiday dinner and neither do we want to go out to yet *another* crab dinner, but both parties force themselves to "because that's what Chinese do" - says my mother. It's just all so EXHAUSTING - the back and forth - but you can't fight the Chinese way.
Old Shanghai - Puxi
Westerners love Dong Tai Lu, or fake antique street. Lots of dusty Chinese ceramics, wooden jewelry boxes, communist-era wares, stone and wood buddha statues - all fake of course.
Lao Jie ("old street"), Yu Yuan
Site of a Qing dynasty temple, tea house and garden. In typical communist Chinese fashion, a perfectly nice archiectural and cultural site is turned into tacky, tourist shopping center.
What the hell?? In the newer areas of Shanghai (XinTianDi and the business areas), people are actually civilized - they form queus and follow traffic lights. But in other neighborhoods it's mad chaos, like the roads to Lao Jie ("old street"). Everyone runs red lights and there's a constant knot of people, bikes and cars at the intersections. Old women shove you out of their way, even though there's an entire sidewalk of room for them to walk. Petrol fumes make you nauseous and incessant honking complete the sensory overload.
The hat incident happened here. My parents and I were trying to navigate between big buses and bicyclists on one side and street vendors on the other. Mom's coat accidentally knocked over a street vendor's hats, he shoved the hat in her face and tried to make her pay for it - "ten kuai ten kuai". Luckily mom just walked away, and the incident blew over. Our family friend said that in those situations, just be aggressive, say something about "bao an" (police) and they will back down. SHEESH.
New Shanghai - Pudong
"It's better to have a bed in Puxi than an apartment in Pudong," say the Shanghainese. It's basically the beginnings of a sprawling suburb (think L.A. & 45 minute drives for everything) to develop near Shanghai proper. Five years ago Pudong didn't even exist. The Jing Mao building, currently the highest building in Shanghai, looks down 88 stories at the Pu Jiang ("Pu" river), as it snakes its way through skyscrapers and lights. By nightfall, the inevitable fog and smog settle over the city. Instead of going up to the top floor, my parents and I opted for a more comfortable alternative - beer and nuts at the Piano Bar. A few nights later I was back for New Years Eve dinner.
Pampering
I got the best foot massage and mani/pedi EVER in Shanghai. The spa was awesome - quiet, clean, decorated with Buddhist and Thai art, sounds of trickling water everywhere, all-you-can eat and drink plus a 90 minute foot massage for only $15! You can drink wine while you get a foot massage. The nail salon was on a beautiful street in the French concession area, tree-lined and quiet. You can drink wine or tea and get your mani and pedi done AT THE SAME TIME. And so far it's proved to be longest-lasting mani I've ever gotten.
Nanjing Dong Lu to the Bund
Garish lights and peasant tourists from the countryside flock this street to the Bund. There are more peasants hawking kitchy tourist wares, flicking boat tickets at you, selling 'digital photos for one kuai', roaming up and down. Ever since the government opened the country up to travel, peasants have taken to the main Chinese tourist spots. No wonder wealthy Shanghainese and ex-pats sequester themselves in posh restaurants and lounges lining the Bund - like Bar Rouge - that has plush couches and a huge deck where you can look out onto the bund, far away from the masses.
What is this a sing-along circus?
At the Shanghai Music Center, the conductor of an orchestra from Poland encouraged (and even conducted) the crowd to clap-a-long to 'pop' classics - like those you associate with commericals or cartoons rather than classical music. During the intermission, the riffraff moved down from the nose bleed seats, chatting on cell phones and burping through the performance. The dancers were four pale, polish tweens with scary hawkish noses and plastic, placid, pasted on smiles. They were really more distracting than anything else, but the crowd seemed to love them. I must be a jaded New Yorker now but I think my parents enjoyed it!
Liu An
We visited his working studio in Taikang Lu - one of Shanghai's art streets that houses an artist co-op. Originally from Harbin up north, he was a professor of Chinese philosophy and art history before turning to painting. My mother chatted him up and he gave us a discount on my first art purchase - an impressionist-esque oil painting of one of the three famous 'beauties' in Chinese history, and her love triangle with a palace guard and scholar.
Muganshan (near Suzhou He)
It's the Chelsea of Shanghai - old warehouses converted to live/work/exhibit studios for young, up-and-coming artists. I was impressed with the art - creative, polished, more sophisticated than you'd expect for a country just breaking out of the stifling
Grand Hyatt Shanghai
Alice hooked us up with a scrumptuous six course dinner in a private banquet room, on the 53rd floor, overlooking the Bund and the Pu river that winds through Shanghai.
French Laundry
Faded clothing, undergarments, shoe liners hang from crossed telephone wires, against a backdrop of 19th century French colonial architecture. Skyscrapers and fancy 5-star hotels rivaling that of london or new york city frame old French architecture from the concession days. Neon blue tubes line the overhead highways, but people still bicycle everywhere. Shanghai is a heady mix of tradition and modernity, a lack of etiquette and sophistication, traditional Chinese and cosmopolitan internationals.
I was surrounded by Beijing-ers, men, on the flight to and from Shanghai. The memory of stinky Chinese 'toe jam' floated back and floaded my nostrils. Actually it's not toe jam or anything related to a dirty foot, it's typical Chinese BO because they, like the French, do not shower every day or even regularly. Unless you are wealthy and have your own bathroom, most locals go to public showers where you pay to take communal showers.
Huuaaaaack!
A flying loogie lands, barely missing me, on the sidewalk. GROSS DUDE. Regardless the pace of 'modernization', some things never change. Or at least, they haven't changed yet.
Fat kids eating something-on-a-stick.
Mala (hot and spicy)-on-a-stick. Squid-on-a-stick. Candied crab-apples-on-a-stick. DUDE. Not only are they fat, they lack manners and are spoiled - a truly unfortunate consequence of the one-child policy and overly indulgent grandparents (because both sets now only have one grandchild to fawn over). These kids, particularly boys, will grow up to be the crass, fat, arrogant, loogie-hocking, chauvinist 'pigs' that typify Chinese business men - and who personify the modern China that I detest.
"Li Hai"
You can't be nice and polite to Shanghainese otherwise they'll walk all over you, seriously. The more "li hai" you are - bitchy and mean - the less likely taxi drivers and shop keepers will yell at you for no reason. No wonder Shanghainese women are so aggressive.
"You get used to it and learn to ignore it"
Passport incident. Immigration officer yells at me because he could't find space in my passport for him to stamp. Oh please, the stamp was tiny and there was space. "Ni jiao wo zeng me an zhang?? Mei you kong de di fang, ni jiao wo zeng me zhang??" I was furious, as in I wanted to curse him out in English, but bit my tongue because, of course, I needed to enter the country. I just stared back and begrudgingly he found a space to put his blasted stamp.
"Ben bang cai"
Shanghainese love their crab - nan yang xie fen xiao long bao (crab eggs in soup dumplings), da za xie ("big crab"), drunken crab, xie fen dofu (stringy tofu with crab meat). Other popular dishes include hong shao ro (cubes of meat that's mostly layers of fat), crispy sea cucumber, kao fu (spongy, slightly sweet glutinous cubes), he xia (river shrimp), luo bo si bing (white turnip pastries), pickled cucumbers.
"Aiya ni tai ke qi" (overly generous relatives)
After three consecutive meals of eating the same crab dishes, we were Shanghaines-ed out. But overly ke qi (polite) relatives and family friends continued to insist on treating us to Shanghainese dinners. We managed to basically lie our way out of all but one. The thing is - they really don't want to have to host another holiday dinner and neither do we want to go out to yet *another* crab dinner, but both parties force themselves to "because that's what Chinese do" - says my mother. It's just all so EXHAUSTING - the back and forth - but you can't fight the Chinese way.
Old Shanghai - Puxi
Westerners love Dong Tai Lu, or fake antique street. Lots of dusty Chinese ceramics, wooden jewelry boxes, communist-era wares, stone and wood buddha statues - all fake of course.
Lao Jie ("old street"), Yu Yuan
Site of a Qing dynasty temple, tea house and garden. In typical communist Chinese fashion, a perfectly nice archiectural and cultural site is turned into tacky, tourist shopping center.
What the hell?? In the newer areas of Shanghai (XinTianDi and the business areas), people are actually civilized - they form queus and follow traffic lights. But in other neighborhoods it's mad chaos, like the roads to Lao Jie ("old street"). Everyone runs red lights and there's a constant knot of people, bikes and cars at the intersections. Old women shove you out of their way, even though there's an entire sidewalk of room for them to walk. Petrol fumes make you nauseous and incessant honking complete the sensory overload.
The hat incident happened here. My parents and I were trying to navigate between big buses and bicyclists on one side and street vendors on the other. Mom's coat accidentally knocked over a street vendor's hats, he shoved the hat in her face and tried to make her pay for it - "ten kuai ten kuai". Luckily mom just walked away, and the incident blew over. Our family friend said that in those situations, just be aggressive, say something about "bao an" (police) and they will back down. SHEESH.
New Shanghai - Pudong
"It's better to have a bed in Puxi than an apartment in Pudong," say the Shanghainese. It's basically the beginnings of a sprawling suburb (think L.A. & 45 minute drives for everything) to develop near Shanghai proper. Five years ago Pudong didn't even exist. The Jing Mao building, currently the highest building in Shanghai, looks down 88 stories at the Pu Jiang ("Pu" river), as it snakes its way through skyscrapers and lights. By nightfall, the inevitable fog and smog settle over the city. Instead of going up to the top floor, my parents and I opted for a more comfortable alternative - beer and nuts at the Piano Bar. A few nights later I was back for New Years Eve dinner.
Pampering
I got the best foot massage and mani/pedi EVER in Shanghai. The spa was awesome - quiet, clean, decorated with Buddhist and Thai art, sounds of trickling water everywhere, all-you-can eat and drink plus a 90 minute foot massage for only $15! You can drink wine while you get a foot massage. The nail salon was on a beautiful street in the French concession area, tree-lined and quiet. You can drink wine or tea and get your mani and pedi done AT THE SAME TIME. And so far it's proved to be longest-lasting mani I've ever gotten.
Nanjing Dong Lu to the Bund
Garish lights and peasant tourists from the countryside flock this street to the Bund. There are more peasants hawking kitchy tourist wares, flicking boat tickets at you, selling 'digital photos for one kuai', roaming up and down. Ever since the government opened the country up to travel, peasants have taken to the main Chinese tourist spots. No wonder wealthy Shanghainese and ex-pats sequester themselves in posh restaurants and lounges lining the Bund - like Bar Rouge - that has plush couches and a huge deck where you can look out onto the bund, far away from the masses.
What is this a sing-along circus?
At the Shanghai Music Center, the conductor of an orchestra from Poland encouraged (and even conducted) the crowd to clap-a-long to 'pop' classics - like those you associate with commericals or cartoons rather than classical music. During the intermission, the riffraff moved down from the nose bleed seats, chatting on cell phones and burping through the performance. The dancers were four pale, polish tweens with scary hawkish noses and plastic, placid, pasted on smiles. They were really more distracting than anything else, but the crowd seemed to love them. I must be a jaded New Yorker now but I think my parents enjoyed it!
Liu An
We visited his working studio in Taikang Lu - one of Shanghai's art streets that houses an artist co-op. Originally from Harbin up north, he was a professor of Chinese philosophy and art history before turning to painting. My mother chatted him up and he gave us a discount on my first art purchase - an impressionist-esque oil painting of one of the three famous 'beauties' in Chinese history, and her love triangle with a palace guard and scholar.
Muganshan (near Suzhou He)
It's the Chelsea of Shanghai - old warehouses converted to live/work/exhibit studios for young, up-and-coming artists. I was impressed with the art - creative, polished, more sophisticated than you'd expect for a country just breaking out of the stifling
Grand Hyatt Shanghai
Alice hooked us up with a scrumptuous six course dinner in a private banquet room, on the 53rd floor, overlooking the Bund and the Pu river that winds through Shanghai.
French Laundry
Faded clothing, undergarments, shoe liners hang from crossed telephone wires, against a backdrop of 19th century French colonial architecture. Skyscrapers and fancy 5-star hotels rivaling that of london or new york city frame old French architecture from the concession days. Neon blue tubes line the overhead highways, but people still bicycle everywhere. Shanghai is a heady mix of tradition and modernity, a lack of etiquette and sophistication, traditional Chinese and cosmopolitan internationals.
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