Landed

The first time I landed in China, just twenty years ago, the airport at an inland capital city was an old army base, and the runway was lit with kerosene lamps. I’d flown from Hong Kong where the level of modernity made my USA town look pale. Tonight landing in Shanghai was a great leap forward, and now even Hong Kong is looking a little pale.

A young man meets us with a wheelchair and attends us all the way to the taxi queue outside. Instead of the typical long line for “foreigners” we go to the “Special Line” with a woman and stoller. Always nice to be special, particularly when it means you are first in line after a long flight.

Our guy then takes us to the baggage carrels, waits with us while we access the ATM machine, walks us through customs with a wave to the men checking a rolled up rug and out of the arrival area. An elevator ride and we are downstairs to get a taxi. Few words exchanged but the young man knows how to take care of the “gray-haired man” in the chair.

A taxi ride into town is a hike in Shanghai but we arrive at our hotel in good order on a lovely expressway with rainbow lit bridges. We’re downtown in a vintage hotel for just one night -- clean, small, but comfortable. Ceilings are probably 12 feet high, crowned with hardwood molding. A tall wardrobe fills one corner and runs to the ceiling. A big mahogany desk holds down one side of the room. The bathroom is all marble. Could date to the heyday of Shanghai in the 1930’s.

Settled into the room, I realize we need water so venture out to find some bottles. The streets are full of well dressed men and women, many carrying bags of food, briefcases, and some clusters at three different ATM machines where a TV is showing World Cup Soccer on a large screen. Like leaving bread crumbs, I track buildings as I go so I can return: massage parlor, karaoke bar, pharmacy, ATM, hotel entrance, garden, corner restaurant.

Water generally runs one to two RMB per bottle (about 15-30 cents), so when the first place wants 40 RMB, I graciously decline. Of course, it was Evian and probably imported. Around another corner I find a little fruit stand with a shelf of bottles.

I pick up four bottles and one large yellow mango. My Chinese numbers haven’t kicked in so I motion for the man to write it down. He pulls out the ubiquitous calculator and shows me 17 RMB – that’s a little over $2 for four bottles and the mango. I feel very street smart as I hand him a twenty and he hands me back a two bill and a one coin. We exchange smiles and I backtrack my building list to the hotel.

The smells of the street remind me of Hong Kong, perhaps because Shanghai is on the water. Hot pot mingles with noodles and the scent of the sea and a shipping port. It’s time to sleep and tomorrow I’ll see where I am.