Ah, Shanghai. The perfect stopover between London and Auckland. Food, culture, shopping. A chance to revisit China after 12 years. One last wee adventure to finish off two fantastic months away. And if nothing else, a chance to stretch my legs (i.e., RUN) between two ghastly 12-hour flights.
O, it seemed such a good idea.
(spoiler alert: it was not.)
Thursday. Check out of London digs with 16kg luggage strapped to front and back (I refuse to wheel one of them silly little wheelie things). Nowhere to go in Hammersmith. London starts doing its wet thing. Go to Heathrow five hours early. Get full body search pat-down/x-ray/swabbing at security + 20-minute wait for bag search + swabbing of homemade lip balm. Finally released. FOUR HOURS wandering Heathrow Airport, capital of BORING and Too Fucking HOT. China Eastern flight surprisingly punctual but also right on wine time/Bloody Mary time. Onboard service starts TWO HOURS LATER (boarding + sitting + taxi + ascent + casual flying).
China Eastern has only beer.
Have beer. Have another beer. Have another beer. Air hostess giggles.
Watch bad movies. Take Zopiclone.
Arrive Shanghai. Esim works, then doesn’t. Spend 40 minutes convincing transit visa officials I do not, in fact, plan to live in China.
Get visa and storm towards exit.
Search route to hotel. Google says CAN’T FIND A WAY THERE. Ask airport helpers for help. Airports helpers won’t help. Ask for taxi. Taxi won’t take card. Ask for ATM. Get sent back to third floor and yet another xray. Cry. (FFS 24 hours without run or sleep). Find ATM. Get cash. Get taxi. Taxi smells of smoke and unwashedness. Taxi driver pulls over on major highway after 15 minutes and asks for directions. FUCK SAKE. Continue. Stop. Continue. Stop. Stopppp… stop. Fifteen thousand vehicles, stopped. Accident? Traffic? Friday afternoon fun? No idea. Meter rises. I AM DYING FOR THE BATHROOM FML.
Thirty minutes later (squirming, whimpering) traffic moves.
FINALFUCKINGLY. Arrive at hotel. Fare is 240 yuan. Give driver 300 yuan. Driver has no change OFCOURSEHEFUCKINGDOESNT. Remember some Mandarin. Yell in Mandarin. Driver shocked. Escape paying only 200 yuan.
Go to hotel desk.Charade bathroom urgency (great way to introduce onself). Return from facilities to pay room rate. CREDIT CARD IS NOT IN WALLET. Credit card is still sitting in airport ATM. FML.
Go to room. Cry. Go outdoors. Run. Defy death by scooter/car/lorry for 12km. EVERY SINGLE PERSON STARES. Discover Google Maps is entirely uninterested in navigating China. Run, stop, run, run, stop stop stop, ask, stop, cry, run. Return to hotel via google translate of road signs and crying at locals.
Wash, go out. Buy Family Mart broiled tofu and can of 8% alcopop. Eat dinner of fishy-tasting fish noodle soup at a hole-in-the-wall hovel. Go to bed. Take Zopiclone. Zonk.
Saturday. Run. EVERY SINGLE PERSON STARES. Drink half-litre Family Mart coffee. Head for Nanjing Pedestrian Street. Jesus. Peoplepeoplepeoplepeople. YOU TRY MADAM YOU TRY VERY NICE MADAM YOU BUY SOMETHING FIVE HUNDRED YUAN ONLY. People coughing sneezing hoicking EVERYFUCKINGWHERE. Scooters zooming BLAAP BLAAP BLAAP WOAAHH WOOAHH. HELLO madam you want shopping handbag Gucci nice clothe?
Unable to eat. Blame fishy fish noodle dinner.
Four p.m. Phone battery fucks off. Am some 6km from hotel.
Go to subway. SUBWAY LARGER THAN TAKANINI. Wave hotel address at various staff. Told TAKE LINE EIGHT CHANGE LINE NINE WALK A LITTLE.
Motherofgod.
But – success! I get from A to B to C and stumble into hotel. Yes!
And that will be my only success.
Refresh in hotel room [read: drink wine-pop]. Leave. Search out dinner. About to order chicken noodle hotpot at incongruent establishment when eager male diner intervenes to ask YES CAN I HELP WHAT DO YOU WANT. Takes liberty of ordering in Chinese (was doing fine with Google translate but ok). Pay. Wait. Need loo. Restaurant lacks loo. Head for public facilities 200m away. Head back. Can’t find my fucking restaurant amongst million other fucking restaurants looking exactly the fucking same. Am grabbed from behind – “Hey! Stop! You! Here here!” Am MANHANDLED by waitress back to restaurant. ENTIRE RESTAURANT IS STARING. Ninety-seven people eating hot pot, staring. Eating. Staring. Eating. Staring. STARING.
I cry.
I cry into my fiery-hot hormone-plumped oil-slicked chicken noodles.
(okay not literally cry, but pretty fucking close).
Go back to hotel. Write this. Wifi fails.
Stays failed.
E-sim alerts that less than 25% data remaining. May be a problem when running in the a.m.
Go to bed. Discover earplugs have been thrown out by cleaning staff.
Cry (for reals).
Do. Not. Sleep.
Get up. Go out. Run pathetic 13km. EVERY SINGLE PERSON STARES. Return. Attempt interrogation re missing earplugs with solitary non-English-speaking staff member via Google Translate. Poor woman obviously horrified by giant puffy miserable face. Offers compensation. Accept. Puffily.
Taxi arrives. Driver drives while simultaneously operating three smartphones hooked up to dashboard. Map, messenger, Chinese soap opera.
Arrive Pudong airport. Survive immigration/security/explosive device screenings.
Board plane.
Have three seats to myself.
Have three Bloody Marys.
Discover someone’s giant hoick on toilet floor.
DO. NOT. SLEEP.
Arrive today, Monday, 6am-ish, to dull Auckland rain and a clogged motorway. And O, I am glad.
a woman wanders 
oh boy
I lived in HK a decade. I Shanghai I was Shanghai-ed. $300 kiwi bill had a couple of zero’s added, signed for it.
left with receipt, aka a folded piece of blank paper. no idea of the address or name of the bar.
Rang visa NZ from taxi. Nothing we can do till charge comes thru, in meantime your credit is locked due to massive charge coming. Feel free to transfer your cash to card to give it credit.
Nightmare checking out of hotel.
Took 4 months to have the fraud reversed.
Handy that the signature bore no resemblance to mine. grin.
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I feel like this could have been avoided 😆
By the way, who are you?
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