The Pudong skyline, as seen from Shanghai's Bar Rouge.

In November of 2009, I traveled to mainland China for the first time. I’d been to Hong Kong and Singapore, so I thought I was up for tackling the very different reality of China. But  I was nervous – worried about being understood, reading the signs, finding my way to where I needed to go and even how Chinese people would react to having an American around. I came with all sorts of preconceived American notions of China and communism and what it all stood for. For while I’d lived outside my home country for five years and had traveled around the world, I had not been somewhere that seemed so foreign, so very different.

But Robert had business in Shanghai and I had an article to write. The first morning, I went up to the hotel concierge with my map of the city. “I’m going to be sightseeing on my own during the day. Can you show me what areas I should avoid, the places where it’s not safe for a woman to be on her own?”

“Shanghai safe. You go anywhere,” was the heavily accented reply.  Thinking that maybe the man did not understand me, I asked again. And I got the same reply. So I headed out with my handy hotel card, the one that on one side said take me to my hotel and gave the address in Mandarin. And the other side with a checklist in English and Mandarin of such attractions as Yu Garden, Oriental Pearl Tower and Xintiandi that I could hand to the white-gloved taxi driver.

On the first day, I went with a small tour group from the hotel to Yu Garden and a tea ceremony. I was fine. I could do this on my own, I thought. And I did. I spent two weeks with my map and guide book, touring on my own during the day, growing more and more confident with getting around, learning how to avoid the watch and bag hawkers on Nanjing Road and how to assemble a stir fry vegetable lunch from a street vendor and trying all the dumplings and other delicacies. In the evenings, I would show Robert the neighborhoods and places I thought he would like to see.

I loved the contrasts: glittering skyscrapers, elevated neon-let highways and luxury boutiques sit next to lanes with no indoor running water and street markets selling everything from kiminos and pearls to Chairman Mao bags and terracotta soldiers. Horn honking taxis and cars do battle for space on the roads with mopeds and bicycle carts laden with fruit.

Over lunch in a cafeteria at the Shanghai Museum, an old woman laughed at my attempts to eat the noodle soup with my chopsticks, then patiently, over and over again, showed me how to do it her way, speaking a steady stream of Mandarin that I understood not one word of. In the People’s Square, two university aged girls approached me shyly, with a smile, asking “You likee Shanghai? We takee picture with you?” As the only westerner in sight, I stood out. And these two wanted to be sure I was having a good time. I felt so very welcome.

But I missed my flight home to Stockholm and was rerouted to Beijing for two days. Robert had flown on to Japan and I was again on my own. The first night, I was put in an airport hotel with no other westerners, no one who understood English, no internet access, no TV. And I felt completely lost and miserable. So I called Robert who got on line and booked me a western hotel in central Beijing for the next night. I took a taxi there early the next morning, talked to the concierge and hired a driver for the day at a ridiculously low fee. Bit by bit, I was feeling better. Besides, I did not want to miss the chance to go outside of town to the Great Wall.

When I got there, the wall was lightly dusted with snow and just a little slippery. As it was November, it was the off season and I saw just one other small group of westerners. I felt lonely at first, but started climbing, stopping to take photos periodically and to admire the views. The further I walked, the fewer people that were around. It was glorious and I was so glad to be there. On my own. At one narrow section, I needed to get around an icy patch. Suddenly, a tiny elderly man was at my side, offering a smile and his hand to help me. I took it, even though I thought it was probably me who should help him.

Taking a cable car back down the mountain a few hours later, I had an entire car to myself. I couldn’t stop smiling. It  felt like I had just conquered my own Everest.

Street vendors in Shanghai. Photo by Robert Corkery.

In Shanghai, I was eating alone at a cafe when a woman somewhere in her 70s or maybe even older sat down across from me. She spoke no English and I had no Chinese beyond a few pleasantries. But as she sat down, she shyly smiled at me.

As I ate my noodle soup, she watched me intently. It began to be a bit uncomfortable and I wondered if I was eating in someone else’s seat or doing something wrong. She started speaking a flurry of Chinese, none of which I understood. In English, I told her I didn’t understand and shrugged at her. But she kept talking, picking up her chopsticks and pointing to mine.

At last I understood: she was showing me a better way to eat my lunch. I gave her technique a try and promptly dropped the mess of vegetables on the table. The next attempt landed on my lap. The woman made some understanding noises, then laughed out loud and showed me again. After another try, I got it. Then she smiled and nodded again, patted my arm and walked away. It was such an unbelievably kind gesture that just the memory of it makes me smile.

The water village of Zhouzhuang was charming and made for a relaxing day trip. But in taking a street scene that included an old woman at work, even she charged Robert for "her" photo.

I thought the US was the consumer capital of the world until I went to China. Shanghai is mind-bogglingly commercial. Everywhere I went, I was sold to. The hawkers were relentless. Walking down the main shopping streets such as Nanjing Road, I could tolerate it. I was there to shop after all.

“Hey lady, you want watch? You want bag? No buy, just lookee. Cheap today, just for you.” The litany of suggestions was repeated to me continually, by one salesperson after another as I walked the shopping gauntlet. It was crucial to not make eye contact and keep going. Making eye contact always guaranteed a longer pitch.

While I got used to the relentless offers on the street, it depressed me to be relentlessly sold to in a Buddhist temple. The instant I stepped into the Jade Buddha Temple, I was approached by a guide who attached herself to me with the intent to tell me a bit about the temple, but more importantly to sell me souvenirs. As soon as I bought, she moved on.

Another view of Zhouzhuang.

It was the same in the water village of  Zhouzhuang. This beautiful water town is the oldest in China and dates back to 770-476 BC. It is appropriately called the Venice of the East (much in the same way that Stockholm is called the Venice of the North). You feel like you have stepped back in time to a kinder, gentler place. But don’t be fooled. The locals there expect you to shop, too.

Wherever I travel, I love checking out the signs on shops, restaurants and highways. I have found so many good laughs, especially in places where English is used as a second language. Here are a few of my recent favorites from Shanghai and Beijing, complete with a few hard to resist comments:

Don’t follow too clowsely

Don’t dring and drive

Donkey Meat for sale. (Do people really eat donkey?  Never mind, don’t answer that given that I saw dog heads for sale in a street market.)

Baby on Road (This was on a car window sticker in Beijing. I could not decide whether it was a joke or a spelling error.)

Best restaurant and store names: Gotta Pick My Precious Love (I am not sure what is sold here, but the name is spectacular.)

Paris Lice (Yuck. Lice does not sound good for a clothing store, even when you place Paris in front of it.)

Happy Everyday Bar, Happy Station Restaurant (There were lots of happy places in Shanghai.)

Baby Move (clothing store).

Hot Taste Restaurant.

“Behavior and upper taste” on a billboard advertisement with all the rest of the writing in Chinese. I would like to think that I have behavior and upper taste.

Now, what are some of your favorite signs?

The view from the terrace of Bar Rogue, looking toward Pudong.

In just about every way, Shanghai was more interesting than I expected. It was both totally modern and completely ancient and the intersection of old and new made for a dynamic combination.

Looking from the Bund toward Pudong, you get some beautiful views of Shanghai’s modern skyline . . .   even on a rainy night. The Bund is Shanghai’s version of Wall Street and there are some beautiful old bank buildings along the waterfront. But at the moment, you can not see the waterfront from the street thanks to all the construction going on for Expo 2010.

The photo here was taken from the Bar Rogue, a cool bar on the Bund that was just a five minute walk from where we stayed. We got there about 11 pm on a Monday night and people were just starting to come in. By midnight, the place was full and the dj was playing some great chill out music. Given the spectacular views inside and out, we decided to stay for a while and sampled the Bar Rogue signature cocktail –a mixture of vodka, Grand Mariner, cranberry juice, raspberry puree, lime juice and a slice of orange. It was so good that I had to have two.

The Huxinting Teahouse at night.

Sometimes you just have to give in and do the tourist thing. Going to the Huxinting Teahouse is a case in point. Located in the jam-packed with tourists Yu Garden Bazaar, the tea house was built in 1784 and is the oldest in Shanghai. The name means mid-lake pavilion and the tea house does indeed sit in the middle of the lake.

The five-sided building is charming and you have to walk a zigzag path to get to it. Apparently, evil spirits can not turn corners and thus walking the Bridge of Nine Turnings will keep you safe!

In spite of all the tourists, I was charmed by the place and we  stopped in for afternoon tea. We were in good company at least as both Bill Clinton and Queen Elizabeth have had tea here.

We sat on the second floor and had a beautiful view over the lake and gardens. Our tea was poured into the famous Yixing purple clay teapot, which is said to brew the best tea. Whether it was the best tea in China I don’t know, but my oolong was good and it was served with a variety of sweet and savory treats, including tofu, eggs, rice crackers and more.

In the street markets, all sorts of ready-to-eat food can be found. Noodle dishes were everywhere.

I had some fantastic meals in Shanghai and – to my western way of thinking – some strange ones as well. In the soups, I often found chicken heads and feet as well as fish tales and heads. As long as I did not inadvertently crunch into one of these additions, I was OK with their presence. That said, when I did bite into one of the more unusual options, they did not stay in my mouth for long.

What I was not so OK with were the dog heads we saw in one of the markets, complete with teeth bared and fur still on. I could not stand to look at let alone imagine eating man’s best friend.

What I absolutely loved where the dumplings, both savory and sweet. Xiao long bao or pork dumplings are a Shanghai specialty and you could find them in street markets and in more formal restaurants. Served up with fresh ginger, soy and vinegar, the ones at  Din Thai Fung were particularly tasty. I am getting hungry just thinking about them.

In traveling to Shanghai, I was not sure what to expect and wondered whether this super-size city of 17 million would be too big to navigate and enjoy. But what I found was an exciting and dynamic city that was full of life and energy at all hours of the day and I absolutely loved it.

I loved the contrasts: glittering skyscrapers, elevated neon-let highways and luxury boutiques sit next to lanes with no indoor running water and street markets selling everything from kiminos and pearls to Chairman Mao bags and terracotta soldiers. Horn honking taxis and cars do battle for space on the roads with mopeds and bicycle carts laden with fruit. In the back streets, life is lived on the sidewalks. Hair cuts, dog baths, dish washing, cooking, teeth brushing and playing mahjong and checkers – everyday life rituals as well as entertainment is played out for all to see.

In a carryover from the past when only the wealthy could afford pajamas and thus wore them as status symbols, both men and women wear their fuzzy polar and silk pjs on the street during the daytime. That means that by Chinese standards, when my cousin and I would go to the drive-through late at night in our pjs we were actually being fashionable and making a statement about our wealthy flannels.

While it is good to disconnect from the web, it is frustrating when it’s not voluntary. I got back last night from two weeks of traveling in Shanghai and Beijing and was blocked from entering my blog the entire time. Thus I was happy to hear President Obama admonishing China to stop censoring internet access today.

While I was not able to post, I was able to write and now have a backlog of impressions to share about the fantastic time I had there. Stockholm is rainy and dark, so a little travel reminiscing will do me good in getting over my jet lag! Thanks to everyone who wrote and wondered where I have been.