Postcards from the Red -- Part II

One of the best parts of our trip was the shopping. We shopped till our kids were ready to abandon us and change their names to Wang. Whatever you could possibly want to buy, you can find in Shanghai. Well, except if you want a Chinese book on the Korean War like Mike did. Then you spend the better part of three days scouring the book shelves of dozens of bookstores throughout the city. It was but mere hours before our departure when he came to the conclusion that the Chinese just don't give a rat's ass about the Korean War, or as they like to call it, The American War in Korea. Much like most Americans, most Chinese haven't a clue where Seoul is or why the war was fought. I guess, it truly is the forgotten war.

Oh, but the haggling these people make you do just to pay a decent price is nuttier than a Peanut Buster Parfait from Dairy Queen. I'm telling ya. I bought a terra cotta soldier replica for $6 after haggling my way down from $60. Pearl necklaces I haggled down from $75 to $30. I just don't understand why they cannot give a fair and decent price from the get go. The whole song and dance, back and forth, offer counter offer is just exhausting. I probably would have bought more had I not been so fucking tired from the haggling (and sleeping on the chair, no doubt).

Plus, they, the vendors, targeted my 4 year old daughter. That pissed me off. I had been looking at something in the shop next to this one and when I turned around to count my children (fortunately, I have just the two so it is pretty easy math even for a blonde such as myself), Reilly Kate was standing with these two Asian beauts, or should I say "brutes," with that hideous flowery silk dress draped over her shoulders.

"Mommy! Look! It's my favorite color! I promise I will wear it. I will wear it to mass on Sunday. I looooooove this dress. Please Mama? Puhleeeeze?" begged the girl child that hasn't willingly worn a dress or skirt in her entire short little life.

"Tell Mama she give me one Chinese dollar," hollered one of the brutes, which didn't make sense to me. There are 8 RMB to a US dollar. So what did she want? One RMB or 8? Or more?

"Mama! I will wear this and show Grace V. [a classmate that attends the same mass as we do] how pretty it is. I promise. Please! Please! Please!" she whined. So I dug in and pulled out the smallest Chinese bill I had: 20 RMB, about 2.50 American. Reilly Kate handed it over to the brute holding her silk dress.

"No. Tell your mama 20 more. This dress is Korean. This dress is more money. You go and tell her." By the way, I'm standing right there. She could have told me herself, but instead chose to involve my kid in a way that would either break her heart or break my bank. In my book, that's pretty low.

Unfortunately for her, however, she doesn't know that I'm the Mother of All Bitches and breaking my wee lass' heart is one of my greatest delights. I leaned over and pulled the 20 out of her hand while telling RK that we'd buy her something else. The brute's grip was tight, though, and before I could give a final tug to free the bill, she yelped out, "Okay. Okay. 20 RMB," then she grumbled in Chinese and her fellow vendors laughed at her. I think she didn't get a very good deal on her part. But Reilly Kate, well, she's got herself a 2 dollar and 50 cent silk dress with dreadful purple flowers and a "Korean style" bow. It's hideous. But if she wears it once, she'll have gotten her money's worth.

The food, for the most part, was good. We had a rocky start, with a meal at the hotel that was just not so great. We later found out that it was tea time so we were served foods that go well with tea. Like whole shrimp, complete with heads and eyes. After all, what else would you like with your tea? The street food was bizarre. The dumplings weren't as good as I thought they would be. I prefer Korean dumplings (called mandoo). And this chicken on a stick? I wanted to take and bury the damn thing.

On our second night, we asked our concierge for a nearby Szechuan place. When we got there, the wait staff were all lined up and in some kind of restaurant employee formation. The manager was giving them a pep talk, it seemed. The rally of sorts concluded with all the staff reciting something enthusiastically. Since neither of us speaks a lick of Chinese, we weren't sure if it was something along the lines of "Good food, good service, great tips!" or more like "Death to the American Pigs!"

I studied the menu for a good long time. It was written in both Chinese and English, but it contained things like, "Braised fish heads in spicy jelly sauce," and "Fried pig's snout in fire sauce." I finally came upon a couple of decent looking dishes and ordered them along with 4 orders of rice and a large bottle of beer. The beer arrived. The main dishes arrived. See the chicken pictured above -- which was to die for except for the fact that the tiny chicken pieces were cut up with the bones included. I chewed well and figured it must be extra calcium. Right? Right? Someone tell me I'm right here. But no rice came. I asked again. And again. Finally, the manager came up to me and announced, "No rice!" I guess they don't serve rice. It's China. And they don't serve rice. Huh.

The biggest shock for me in the whole trip was the Chinese do not speak English as well as the Koreans. Being an arrogant American, I sure as hell expect no trouble communicating around the world. I speak English and so should everyone else. When in China, speak English. Why the hell not! Apparently, the Chinese have similar thoughts. I guess when there is 1.6 billion of them, they kind of figure, "Speak Chinese or fuck off." Right then. This guy here with the smoke hanging out of his mouth got very offended when selling us a bag of fresh picked cherries. He held out two fingers and said something to us in Chinese. Well, we handed him 2 RMB and grabbed the bag. I thought skanky farmer man was going to take a swing at Mike, he was so mad. After an English speaking good Samaritan stopped to interpret, we found that he wanted 20 RMB for his cherries. We were offering him 15 cents when he wanted 3 bucks. I guess he had a right to be pissed. At himself! For not speaking ENGLISH! I was assured by the travel agent that all of China is boning up for the Olympics, though. They will be English literate in no time.

That's about it for the trip. I'm going to post some more pictures tomorrow. I did get some cool ones, capturing my feel for Shanghai. It really was a pleasant trip.