Friday, January 27, 2006

The Hot Pot Experience: Xiao Fei Yang (Little Sheep Restaurant)

169 Nandan Lu (at Wending Lu, 6438 1717)

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Arriving earlier than the normal dinner hour on a chilly, late-Sunday afternoon, we hoped to beat the reputedly lengthy dinner hour queue at this popular hotpot restaurant chain from Mongolia. Unfortunately, this was not to be the case.

After enduring a little over an hour of (guiltily entertaining) Mr. Bean episodes in the entrance area, we were at last ushered past a small patch of fake green turf (where little stuffed sheep ‘grazed’) to a small wooden table in a corner of the restaurant. Happy faces visible all around and the spicy aroma wafting through the air kept our hopes high that our dogged perseverance would be rewarded. Fortunately, it was.

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We went straight for the ‘yi ban la, yi ban bu la’ hot pot (‘half hot/spicy, half not’), only indulging ourselves in a small plate of vegetable spring rolls that, at 1 RMB apiece, were simply too tempting to resist. So tasty were they that we momentarily regretted not ordering more. That is, until our hotpot arrived.

Once the pot bubbled, heated by the gas burner built into the table, we began dunking our chosen morsels of various types of seafood, noodles, mushrooms we had selected. On the vegetable side, the various mushrooms were exquisite once soaked in either broth, while the bamboo shoots proved especially popular and quickly disappeared. The live shrimps, skewered on a wood stick, were plunged to a quick but glorious death in the bubbling broth. They proved an exceptional match with the spicy broth, in particular. The various pieces of frozen seafood were tasty, though hardly magnificent. The ‘manmade seafood’ (fake crab) was hardly a necessary inclusion amongst these and left all but untouched for good reason.

The real treat of the meal was the ‘AAA mutton’. It deserved every ‘A’ in it’s rating. Once boiled in either side of the pot, it became a sensually indulging tender and juicy delight on the tongue. The Chinese are known to throw various animal innards into their hotpots, but we opted to steer clear of these menu items in favour what were, from our Western perspective, the more conventional offerings.

Be warned - the spicy side of the pot is fantastically pungent, but not for the faint of tongue, while the leek and ginger-based milder half suffers no shortage of garlic.

In the end, we were stuffed and satisfied, the initial extended queue for a table all but forgotten. At 190 RMB for four (including a couple large beers and a round of cokes) the cost was certainly nothing to quibble about. But do make a reservation well in advance - or prepare to have your patience tested.

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timothyanderson2005@gmail.com

Friday, January 20, 2006

Exploding the myth: A green city?

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Shanghai may be seriously lacking parks and open spaces, but contrary to what many realise, it remains a rather green city (in the summer), largely owing to it's numerous tree-lined roads and fairly plentiful gardens amonst the (quickly disappearing) low-rise areas. Now if only there wasn't quite so much smog and pollution...

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Thursday, January 19, 2006

Shanghai today and the sweep of history

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Now that I'm slowly getting a handle on this city, I'm ready to start really writing again. Here is the first of what will hopefully be many Shanghai-oriented articles over the next weeks and months. Tim.

Culture. If there are countries today that could be accused of languishing in a state of cultural deficiency, China is not one of them. Five thousand years of continuous civilization has left a rather solid culture backdrop in front of which the rapid modernization of the country is presently occurring. Or perhaps it is better described as a canopy casting a large shadow over the present. The same could not exactly be said for Shanghai - not at present. In Shanghai, history is just beginning - or so it would seem.

Shanghai is being reconstructed by the minute. If historians around the globe could witness the extent of the dramatic deconstruction and reconstruction occurring, more than a few would surely tear their hair out in anguish. Much has certainly been lost in the process, this rush to modernize at seemingly any cost. As a friend of mine recently noted, the Chinese government is increasingly acting more like the board of directors of a powerful corporation, rather than a political entity. The consequences of this decision, more than anything else, are probably what underlie this upcoming series of articles exploring Shanghai – which is after all one of four cities in China under direct control of the central government.

This big grey entity known as the Communist government lies far beyond my (and most other’s) sphere of immediate influence. If and when the era of Communism does come to an end in China, it will likely a spectacular crash brought about by an unsustainable level greed and corruption that finally does it in. Nobody in China, it seems, has been more seduced by the trappings of the west than the government itself.

If the Shanghai that once was is all but dead – or at least gone forever - the rest of us looking on should not feel it necessarily to a shed a tear over all that has been lost. I have come to believe that the importance of cultural preservation is occasionally overblown in the race to trace history, at least in certain instances. After all, cultural preservation does come at a cost as well, one that can be quite significant for those living in the present. Don’t mistake this for an argument against history.

Walking not 100 metres from my apartment here in Shanghai, one stumbles into a crumbling, decrepit area of town.

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It’s an area that leaves an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of the stomach because it is a squalid place, one really not fit for human inhabitation. Unfortunately there is plenty of it - several hundred residents. There is also an impromptu market consisting of street vendors selling their wares, hole-in-the-wall restaurants, plenty laundry hanging out of (often broken) windows and so forth. The buildings are in an embarrassing state of disrepair. One wonders just where all these residents will go when the wrecking ball inevitably swings (and this moment of reckoning can’t be far away, judging by the pace of change across the city), while suspecting the likelihood of the government offering adequate restitution to them is doubtful at best. I have little doubt the area will soon be filled with more skyscrapers.

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A friend of a friend here in Shanghai recently moved into a low-rise apartment in such an undeveloped area – though admittedly an area not quite as neglected as the one I just described. In a scene reminiscent of the opening sequence of ‘The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy’ (the book or movie, you choose), just over a month after moving in a notice arrived announcing she had precisely one week to vacate the flat before the entire area was levelled for redevelopment. So she moved to the couch of this friend of mine, and now another few skyscrapers are being built where her flat stood a short time ago.

Even as the housing market in Shanghai comes screeching to an apparent halt (following several years of rocket-like growth), one doubts there is much chance that one developer or the next will pass up the opportunity to scoop up any available piece of prime development land available in Shanghai, anticipating the next upswing (or overlook any opportunities to be involved in the redevelopment of any centrally-located Shanghai property). After all, the pace of growth in Shanghai continues to plough forward at 10% per year, give or take a percentage point or a few. Sooner or later, or these areas are bound to be in demand, once more. Unfortunately, what results from such development projects isn’t always what one might hope for.

A recent chat with a representative of an Australian developer (that shall remain nameless) with numerous local projects was frustratingly revealing. He explained that to succeed in the local market, there was really little choice but reach for the lowest common denominator, at least when carrying out mass-development projects (those not targeted at high-end clients). In practice, this meant matching local standards which involved ignoring local regulations. The houses they built were literally cement walls with a door – no insulation, no nothing. What they were selling were essentially house keys.

In chatting with him, I was reminded of the classic Maslow’s hierarchy of needs pyramid that every business student is introduced to early in their studies - clearly they were operating at the first level around Shanghai, to a large extent. When I asked what role innovation played in his company development projects – as this was the topic of a PhD I was offered a few months back - he could only laugh. Little chance for that.

So if this a result of modernized Shanghai (though hardly the only one), one wonders just how much room there is for culture and history at this point, and how much those living here really care? Well, it does have some allocated space – for example, in a museum located under one of Shanghai’s top tourist attractions, the Pearl Tower in Pudong. This is symbolically equivalent to placing a museum in the middle of an amusement park. Don’t expect to find academic historians trolling through its archives. Of course, there are a handful of other museums as well.

Yet Shanghai is hardly the first example during China’s long history, of the past being spurned in favour of other priorities. Back in 1644, China’s archives were all but purged of any documents pertaining to the glorious voyages undertaken under by a vast armada of Chinese treasure ships, led by Zheng He from 1421 to 1424 during the reign of Emperor Zhu Di. These voyages that lead to the discovery of South America some 70 years ahead of Christopher Columbus, it has been persuasively argued by Gavin Menzies in his book 1421. But after the departure of these ships from China in 1421, China's hierarchy turned its attention inwards. Upon their return, the resulting monumental discoveries were quickly set aside and ignored, the colonies created in the process abandoned, and the ships themselves left to rot. Once it had been decided, decreed, that the voyages had been of no useful value, there was little need to preserve them in the collective memory of the nation. All logs and records of the voyages were destroyed a couple hundred years later.

Perhaps the same could be said, less dramatically, of Shanghai today. Whatever the historical significance of the city, it pales beside the perceived importance of its new role as the shining centrepiece of modern, fast developing, China. History be damned.

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Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Monday, January 16, 2006

The Luwan District in Shanghai

The Luwan district encompasses a medium-sized area of central Shanghai within the former French concession area. Theses photos come from a backstreet area, soon to be demolished, no doubt.


UPDATE Nov. 2006: Indeed this area has now been demolished.

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Sunday, November 20, 2005

A little hop around the supermarket

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The Chinese penchant for eating anything on four legs that moves has been well documented. What was a little surprising during a recent visit to Hymall, one of the mid-sized supermarket chain-stores found around Shanghai that consistantly offers a reasonably pleasant shopping experience (a modest variety of western foods and refrideration standards simply a world apart from the open-air markets scattered around Shanghai that display the unrefriderated chunks of raw meat they are selling on wooden tables), was the open glass display of live bullfrogs - rather large ones.

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The question immediately sprang to mind, why weren't these guys jumping all around the supermarket? One could speculate that perhaps their legs had been broken... The store clerks found it amusing that a westerner could find the live bullfrog display amusing, even if communicating the source of this westerner's amusement proved impossible.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Sasha, VIP Room, Shanghai, Nov. 4, 2005

As it has been widely noted by the Shanghai media, last time Sasha passed through town, his performance was memorable for all the wrong reasons. After only forty minutes Sasha walked off when his computer crashed, leaving the crowd unsatisfied and none to pleased. An obvious question one could ask was why he opted to leave his record collection back home in favour of a computer in the first place?

In any event, there was no vinyl to be seen either last night, but the booming three and a half hour set was rather more in line with what one would expect one of the world top ‘superstar’ DJ’s to produce. Taking the decks, or rather the iMac, just after midnight, Sasha had the capacity crowd on his side immediately (short memories?) and held them there for most of the night. The midway part of the set did lag a bit, so the crush on the dance floor thinned for a time, but he quickly returned to form during the last hour and the crowd dutifully reappeared. This time, when his computer crashed (yes, once again), he had an already queued CD ready to take over, It seemed few even realised what happened. In fact, many cheered thinking this was part of the show. An assistant rebooted the computer while the music played on.

Computer crashes aside, without question Sasha does have the tracks to back up his credentials. Obviously for his fans this is what counts most – as was the case last night. Nonetheless, one wonders why a DJ of Sasha’s fame insists upon relying on the click of a mouse rather than the (less crash prone) spin of vinyl upon which a good portion of his reputation has been built. His fans have faithfully held on, but the technology keeps letting him down.

Tim Anderson, timothyanderson2005@gmail.com.

Monday, April 11, 2005

One man’s fists, another man’s pleasure

It was on my third day in Shanghai that I witnessed my first little traffic altercation (of any notable significance), one that improbably concluded with a rare, rather poetic, resolution. I accept this term is more often used to describe countless insipid Hollywood endings, not traffic accidents.

Okay, here’s the story - one in a million.

As a traffic light turns green, a cyclist speeds across the intersection. Simultaneously, a fellow on a scooter turns the corner, oblivious to all going on outside his own little bubble. A scene repeated countless time every minute of every hour, all over Shanghai.

Crash.

The cyclist is knocked off his bicycle (uninjured) and the scooter driver crumbles gracelessly to the ground (also uninjured). A few short seconds lapse while the two recover their wits. Then the shouting match begins. I am unable to pull my attention away - there is an eager voyeur in all of us, I’ve long accepted.

The cyclist is incensed and raging - he has no doubt about who is in the right. His anger boils stronger as the shouting intensifies. These are two middle-aged men, I might add, certainly not ones who in any way resemble your stereotypical brawlers. Nonetheless, the dispute suddenly turns to fisticuffs.

Provoked, the scooter driver takes the first swing, a defensive jab aimed to deter his opponent from making a strike. The fuse is now lit. The cyclist follows up with a short flurry of punches of his own. He has managed to prop his bicycle in the middle of the busy intersection while the slightly damaged scooter of his opponent lies nearby. It appears to be leaking copious amounts of petrol, though it’s owner is oblivious to this fact at this point. He is rather preoccupied since the cyclist is now grabbing at his helmet, ripping at his shirt and trying to connect fist to face in the process.

At this point in the story, I have to come clean. I am all for the little guy on the bicycle. I know exactly why. He is the underdog and as a frequent cyclist, I know just what he is feeling. Most injustices on the road are left unresolved when the offending driver speeds recklessly away in a puff of exhaust fumes, oftentimes blissfully ignorant that anything at all has even transpired, much less that they may have been the cause.

Here and now, this is unconventional vigilante justice being administered on the Shanghai streets with no police in sight.

Finally a couple of middle-aged ladies manage to wedge themselves in between the pair. The cyclist kicks the scooter-driver’s helmet that he has managed to pull off across the intersection, walks to his bicycle still standing in the middle of the street, mounts it and pedals away. The dishevelled scooter driver stands in the road stunned, unmoving for a few moments, then notices for the first time that his scooter is leaking petrol. He has lost face.

Score one for the underdog. I wander away from the scene, feeling somewhat guilty for smiling. I’m not normally like this.

Friday, February 11, 2005

Shark Chasing Madness (A story from the Perhentian Islands, Malaysia, Sept. 2005)

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Before arriving in Shanghai in mid-October, Elisabeth and I spent 7 weeks backpacking, starting in Singapore, criss-crossing Malaysia, then up the East coast of Thailand to Bangkok. This is one of my favourite stories from that trip. Hope you enjoy it!

On the first evening of our arrival on Kecil, one of the two Perhentian Islands off the northeast corner of the Malaysian mainland, we began chatting to a few fellow travelers as we ate dinner. An agreement to take a snorkeling trip together the next day was made, and details quickly arranged.

The next morning we met our happy guide, a small but energetic Indonesian fellow who spoke very broken English. We climbed into his simple, covered boat and headed for sea.

The first spot, close to shore, featured shallow waters with wonderful corals and plenty of colourful little fish that swam all around us. Since the others in the boat preferred to wear life jackets while they snorkeled, this spot made for an easy starting point. If our guide had revealed exactly what he was planning for later that day, the group may not have been quite so relaxed.

The day previous, on our way to the Perhentians from the Malaysian mainland, I had chatted with the ferry captain as we pulled towards Besar, the larger of the two Perhentian Islands. He had pointed to an area marked off by a lengthy rope buoy at one point, casually noting that sharks regularly swam in the area. I certainly wasn’t expecting that. I ignorantly asked him if the rope buoy was a shark net. His reply, “no, no, lots of people snorkeling there every morning!”

My curiosity was aroused. I had never seen a shark in open water before.

The second stop of our snorkeling trip - a cement buoy a significant distance away from shore - was a rather more challenging one for our group of skeptical deep-water swimmers. This time, after assuring everybody it was perfectly safe to swim (‘safe’) and that lots of corals could be found there (‘many coral’), our faithful guide donned his own mask and fins and jumped in the water. Now he meant business. He benevolently ordered everyone to follow and we gamely obeyed as he lead the group on a lengthy tour, further and further away from the boat. As we climbed back into the boat, he declared enthusiastically, “Now we find sharks...we see sharks today!” With that it was off to the infamous spot pointed out to me the day previous - Shark Point.

Arriving, he jumped straight in as before, reassuring us once again that these apparently shark-infested waters were safe, then pointing and summoning us to follow. We were on the shark trail now. Who would have guessed that those nervously floating around in life jackets a couple hours before would consent to this?

Soon he became excited and started waving. Three people in the group caught a fleeting glimpse of the target - a 150 cm Black-Tip Shark close by. It was hot pursuit time, like a chase scene straight out of Hollywood. Of course, the shark was not around for long.

Over the next while, two more sharks were spotted and pursued. Frustratingly, yours truly never managed to see any of them. Perhaps it was a case of simply trying to hard to see what was evidently right before my eyes. Or maybe I just didn’t really want to and willed myself not to see anything, I don’t know!

Following a pleasant lunch stop at a nearby fishing village (accessible only by boat) where sheep roamed around our tables hoping to scavenge a bit of food as we talked excitedly about what had transpired so far, it was time for the final stop of the day.

Pulling into a clear, sandy bay, one with beautiful clear blue water, but not a coral or rock of any sort in sight - and hence not much in the way of fish - we wondered just what our guide was thinking. A pleasant, if not all that exciting, swim to cool off before we headed home? We didn’t have time to question him, as he was quickly shouting, “there, big turtle! You lucky today!” And there it was, swimming close to the sandy bottom, but plainly visible in the clear waters. It was the largest live turtle I have ever seen.

We jumped in and like that were swimming along with him (or her). Our sharp-eyed guide quickly spotted two more, each of whom we accompanied for as long as we could keep up.

At last, we climbing back into boat and headed for home, still buzzing from all that had happened. Quite a day, indeed. I would recommend a trip to the Perhentians to anyone.