Shanghai

Shanghai: a city once called the Paris of the East, and now the showpiece of an economically thriving China. I went without expectations and was pleased to have come away with a relatively good experience. The city itself boasts more skyscrapers than notable sights unlike other major cities. Having said that, Shanghai does have some museums to its name though I was in no mood for them. So here's my list of things you could do in the city, regardless of whether museums tickle your fancy.

A walk down Nanjing Road

The length of Nanjing Road is quite easily the commercial heart of the city. East Nanjing Road (left) is where the older shopping centres are located, including the first department store which opened in the 1920s. Now it becomes an orgy of neon lights at night and has a tacky little tourist train that plies a section of the stretch for a few yuan (it's better to just stick to walking).

High-end brands line the strip that is West Nanjing Road, together with several five-star hotels, restaurants and prime office buildings. You will also find the Jing'an Temple (left) here. The Buddhist temple has a history of over 700 years and is surrounded by high-rise modern buildings.

Statue at People's Park

The two sides of Nanjing Road meet at People's Square, a large public square in the Huangpu district. There's a lovely park here and the Shanghai Art Museum. Do beware of people coming up to you and asking if you'd like to attend traditional tea ceremonies. These are nothing but extortionate in nature and often your companions start off by saying they'd like to talk to you a while longer to practice their English or show you around. I was asked to take a photo for a trio before they launched into a conversation which steered towards whether I'd be interested to join them at one of these ceremonies.

Shanghai Propaganda Poster Centre

This gallery is in the basement of a residential block at Hua Shan Road. It displays anti-US, pro-communist posters from the 1950s through the 1970s. There's a little shop where you can buy postcards and even original posters. At the main gate of 868 Hua Shan Road, inform the guard you're looking for the Poster Centre and he will hand you a card with directions to the block where the gallery is located.

The Bund

A foggy morning at The Bund

This waterfront area is one of the most famous tourist destinations in Shanghai and is home to dozens of historical buildings of various architectural styles. They were once banks, trading houses and consulates. Some have very colourful histories and a number of them have been converted into restaurants and designer shops. The best times to come here are during sunrise when you'll find people flying kites, jogging, practicing taiji, or simply capturing the sun as it comes up. After sundown, it's a horde of people you'll see here, out for a stroll or posing with the Pudong skyline (above left) behind them. The closest metro station is East Nanjing Road, about a five minute walk away.

Cafe hop

Contrary to what you may think, Shanghai is dotted with many cool cafes, some of which have quite a fan following. My personal favourite is Ginger by the Park at 91 Xingguo Road in the Xuhui district. This one's non-smoking, a huge plus point in itself.

There's also Citizen Cafe at Jinxian Road (in the French Concession), which is apparently popular with the French expat community. A couple of streets away at Changle Road is Garden Books where you can combine your need for a caffeine fix with your literary pursuits. I found the books a little overpriced though.

Across the city you will also find branches of 85C Cafe, a Taiwanese chain which has a very affordable selection of breads, buns and coffees. I personally loved their garlic bread (very random, I know).

Yuyuan Gardens and the Old City

The Gardens (above left and right) are located in the northeast of the Old City and was built during the Ming Dynasty (1366-1644 AD). The pavilions and ponds provide a respite from the bustle of the city.

An alley in the Old City

Once you're done here, poke your nose through the small lanes that are part of the Old City. They are grey, drab, and a world away from the skyscrapers that hover in the background. It's not surprising then that this area is fast disappearing (at the time of my visit, there were two plots of land being drilled and hammered to become modern edifices).

M50

Mural at M50

50 Moganshan Road (or M50 as it is better known) is a contemporary art district home to several galleries and studios belonging to more than a hundred artists. M50 used to be an industrial area and took on its current form in 2000 by a local artist who was initially attracted by the cheap rent of the disused space. If your pockets are deep enough, you could consider buying some of the works.

The only drawback about this area is its relative inaccessibility -- that is, if you're not one who's comfortable with walking at least 10 minutes to get somewhere. The closest metro station is Shanghai Railway Station. Take Exit 5 towards Minli Road/Tianmu West Road. At the junction of these two roads, make a right and walk in the direction of traffic till you cross a bridge over the Suzhou Creek. Then take the stairs down and turn right into the road that runs along the creek. Moganshan Road is right at the end.

Tianzifang

Outside a cafe in Tianzifang

This arts and crafts enclave in the French Concession developed from a renovated residential area and its alleys are packed with art/photography galleries, shops, cafes and restaurants. A similar district is Xintiandi, in a vicinity to the north; but what sets Tianzifang (left) apart is its success in preserving its residential feel.


Beyond Shanghai

Confucius Temple in Nanjing

The beauty of a day trip from Shanghai is that several destinations are easily accessible by high-speed trains. You could consider places such as Hangzhou or Nanjing (both are up to an hour away). My friend and I went to Nanjing, until quite recently the capital of China. There are many historical sites here for you to while away your time, including the Nanjing Massacre Memorial (right) and the Ming tombs which are on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

High-speed rail at Shanghai's Hongqiao
Railway Station

Duration of Stay

Including the day trip to Nanjing, I spent full four days in Shanghai. Most of my exploration was done on foot at a leisurely pace so if you prefer to zip around in the metro, you could probably end up doing/seeing more.

To/from the airport

Hop onto Line 2 which takes you directly to East Nanjing Road and People's Square. The journey takes about 60-75 minutes though. Alternatively, you could hover in the air for a few minutes with the magnetic levitation or Maglev train which zips you to Longyang Road metro station (where you can transfer to Lines 2, 7 and 16) in eight minutes -- quite the time-saver. A one-way ticket costs 50 yuan. If you have a same-day air ticket, 10 yuan will be shaved off your fare.

Getting around

Shanghai is quite pedestrian-friendly so do exploit the opportunity to see more on foot. Otherwise, the city is very well-connected by the metro system with over 10 lines negotiating the underground space. Base fares are at 3 yuan for trips under 6 kilometres, then 1 yuan for each additional 10 kilometres.

To Wasen

The platform was filled with young revellers in traditional garb, accessorised with beer bottles and cigarette packs. There was a lot of chatter, some boisterous singing. I watched them, intrigued. It was relatively chilly, but I suppose the thrill and excitement of going to VolkFest (a beer festival and travelling carnival) at Canstatter Wasen, Stuttgart, was keeping everyone sufficiently warm. Other commuters not making a beeline for the event looked indifferent at best, and apprehensive at worst.

The train quickly filled to the brim with these youngsters heading for the next station about 5 minutes away. It appeared as if the train had been chartered for them and it took a few minutes of boarding before the doors finally closed. From my little corner next to the door at the other end of the train, I watched bodies pressed gleefully against one another: boys in checked shirts and berms, girls in dresses that generously displayed their ample bosoms. Boys sat gingerly on each others' thighs, while the girls looked a little more comfortable in their boyfriends' (at least I assumed them to be) laps. A couple standing right in front of me couldn't stop sticking their tongues down each others' throats as their friends engaged in random banter.

The train emerged from underground and the site of the festival came into full view. One of the girls standing next to me squealed with delight at the sight of a huge ferris wheel and started bobbing on her feet. A guy next to her put his arm around her from the back and smiled. The kissers stopped momentarily and cheered together with the others.

The station arrived and calls rose for the doors to open. Then they started to spill out, as if the train could not bear their load anymore. Some boys started singing again, the girls chatted and laughed. Within a minute or two the train's interior made itself conspicuous again. There was space, there was an uncomfortable silence, accustomed as the ears had become to a cacophony of voices.

I remained behind, together with a few passengers around me. We were accompanied by the gentle roar of the carriage being pulled along to the next stop, together with the bottles rolling and clinking as they met on the train floor.

Baby, you are gonna miss that train..

This was first written on 1st October, 2013

I arrived at the Dresden Hauptbahnhof (main train station) fairly early and loitered around with a cup of hot chocolate. Downing the remnants of the contents of my cup, I dragged myself and the trolley bag to the platform where I found the train taking a breather. Ahead of me was an American couple -- one was struggling with bags, the other trying to find a way to open the door. I stepped up to the front and pushed a button and let the woman board.

The train ride itself was largely uneventful save for the occasional guffaws of the American woman (they were seated diagonally across from me). However my mind was elsewhere: the train has to reach Nuremberg on time because I need to catch my connection to Stuttgart, that too with a window of just 9 minutes. But going by how this train was making its scheduled stops on time, I was becoming comfortable with the thought that there would be no reason for a delay.

But of course, things go wrong when you take the side of complacency. Towards the end of the journey, the train made an unusually long stop at a station which looked like it had been hastily put together to stall our progress. I cocked my head this way and that from my seat, hoping to determine the cause of the delay or at least find out the name of the station. The American couple was also getting agitated. From their conversation, I discovered that they were travelling on to Munich from Nuremberg. I was comforted by this new piece of information.

Minutes before its scheduled arrival in Nuremberg, the train made another stop, this time in the middle of nowhere. There was no way to determine where exactly we were because trees obstructed our view on both sides. At some point, the American couple gathered their bags and made for the exit. I did the same just as the other passengers around me, mostly Germans, put on their coats and took the few steps towards the door.

Then came an announcement in German, the contents of which I understood from gasps that escaped the lips of the women in front of me (and a check of the time on my phone). I had already by this time made out the German words for 'platform' and 'fifteen'. They repeated the same words, and I knew I definitely had company.

As the train slowed to a halt, the American couple, at the head of the line, had trouble with the door again (the fact that I had opened the door in front of them earlier did not help them register how things are done). Thankfully, someone behind them jabbed his/her finger into the button that opened the door. My fellow passengers and I hit the platform running, quite literally, with our bags. I ran down the stairs towards our designated platform as if my life depended on it, jumping two steps at a time on the stairway, and emerged on Platform 15 to find the train still standing. For reasons that escape me now, the first few seconds were characterised by sluggishness, a belief that I could take my time finding my coach. Thankfully I did not have to go far, because my coach was right next to the stairway. I climbed in, relieved, as were those puffing away ahead of me: 'we made it with barely seconds to spare!', one woman seemed to say.

I thought of Geet from Jab We Met and chuckled.


P/S In the event your connecting train leaves before you reach the station, go to the train information counter/sales office. The staff will issue you a ticket with the next available connection.

Train to Heidelberg

It was towards the end of breakfast that the germ struck: I should do a day trip to Heidelberg. Immediately I reconsidered the option. Maybe it would be better to walk around the streets of Stuttgart a little. It cannot possibly be unbearably uninteresting. But what about Heidelberg? I had heard positive things about it and not going would be a shame and a wasted opportunity.

Let's decide at the train station, I told myself.

It was 1028hrs, and according to a quick check online, the next train to Heidelberg would leave Stuttgart's main station at 1039hrs. So began the vacillation with the idea of going for the day trip. Perhaps it would be a better idea to head to Tubingen -- it was closer and Nari was considering it too. But she had yet to reply to my text.

The next few minutes were spent fiddling with the ticket machine. Destination, one way ticket -- or return? Might be cheaper? No, the same as the onward journey. What time? 1500, 1600hrs? How much time would I need there? I'll get in at around 1120 if I hop onto the 1039. Hmm Cancel.

1032hrs
Let's try again.

Destination, immediate travel, one adult, single journey, 26 euros..
Insert card?
Hmm.

1034hrs
Why not? I don't have to commit for sure -- I'd still have to enter my pin.
Card enters the reader.
Card panel says I should Bitte Warten.

My card slips out and the main screen says 'Your ticket is being printed.'
WHAT?
'Your receipt is being printed.'
I pull out both pieces of papers from the tray. But which is the ticket? Neither says which train I'm supposed to catch, nor does it say what time I depart.

1035hrs
Crap.

I run to the nearest approachable person who, as it turns out, speaks little English. Refer to the board, she tells me. I look at the big blue electronic display overhead and hunt the platform number for the 1039 train. 
Seven.
I forgot to mention that the platforms at Stuttgart's station require some legwork because of construction works. So I run, alongside my fellow commuters, to platform seven. Once there, I ask around for help and a fellow passenger and the train conductor confirmed i was on the right track. 
Brilliant!
Then I waited for the train to pull out of the station. 
It did..at 1055hrs.

His name was Premchand

This piece was first written on 21^st March 2010

The train was waiting at the platform from as early 1620hrs. We’d actually made it on time to Kalka after a slow descent from Shimla on the toy train, considering the Himalayan Queen left the mountain town 25 later minutes than scheduled.

It was soon to be a 6-hour ride in the second sitting compartment to New Delhi. My mum and I settled ourselves into our seats next to the window. Actually, I was to rest my butt along the aisle because we were to have someone in the middle. A quick look at the passenger list next to the train door before we’d boarded gave us an idea of who was going to be our t ravel companion: a man named Premchand. I did not not take note of his age, which was likely printed in the very next column. All the name gave us was an indication of what the seating arrangement was to be like, and fodder for my often fertile imagination.

I got busy trying to figure out which one of the men climbing into the compartment might be Premchand. I pictured him to be someone mature. Then again, he could have easily been a young man with a moustache in a neatly pressed shirt and pants. But the number of elderly men that kept coming in began to chip away at this image.

Could it be this old man, with snow-white hair with glasses perched on his relatively sharp nose? Or the friend of the family sitting behind us, whom we’d seen loitering around on the platform earlier? I just hoped it would not be the man standing near the door whose mobile phone conversation was no longer secret.

At 1650hrs, the train started pulling itself out of the station as lazily as the sun was being swallowed up by the horizon. But where was Premchand, I turned and asked my mum? Could he have missed the train by a whisker (maybe he was dragging heavy bags)? What if someone else hops on and tries to claim his seat? Should I save it for him? But how do you do something like this when you don’t even know who it is you’re helping? My mum pointed out that he might be boarding at a later station. Fair enough (I don’t know why this thought had not crossed my mind in the first place).

A stop or two later, a man in a white shirt calmly squeezed past a group that was trying to get off the train. He had glasses on, and a moustache. Planting himself comfortably next to me, he gave himself all but two seconds before turning to me to ask for my seat number (I was in his seat). Before I could finish explaining my trespass, he understood that the lady next to the window and I were travelling together. ‘No problem,’ he said, before whipping out his mobile phone to inform someone at the other end that he had gotten into the train. At this point, I turned to my mum, and as discreetly as possible, pointed my right index finger in his direction: ‘Premchand!’