Bill is traveling to India in July, so we needed to turn in the documents for his visa. Once at the AMEX office, they directed us to a side street across the road, so Bill could get passport size photos taken. A very short jaunt which would take us back quite a few decades. Mr. Tao parked the car and while I sat and waited, him and Bill went to the "cubby hole" which was the "photo shop."
As I waited in the car, I watched the local activity, smacking myself for not having my camera with me. We were on a street that looked like we had teleported back in time to the 60's or 70's (of China.) An ancient two story building, with doorway after doorway, only about 10 feet apart. Local, older, Chinese men and women, sitting in front of their homes, on bamboo chairs, share each others company, late in the day. Beside one of the doorways, a cabinet, holding what appeared to be a number of the families wares. Next door, a gentlemen was closing up "shop" for the day, putting away the homemade sign with a handsaw drawn on it. Taking down the worn kettles and pots that had been hanging on the wall. Upstairs, someone sits close to the open window.
Two school boys walked up to the car, one staring in at the console. The other, slapping him on the back and telling him, in Chinese, "too expensive." They then walk to the back of the car, where I notice that they are now looking at it from the rear. They are so entranced by the car, that they have no idea I am watching from behind the rear-tinted windows. Our car is one of hundreds of silver Buick minivans which travel the streets of Shanghai everyday, but none have apparently ever been so close.
Once Bill and Mr. Tao return, we head to dinner, a mere two minute drive from this small side street. The restaurant is one of about 6 or 8 expensive, modern and chic locations on the river. Where there is gourmet international fare, fine wine, outstanding views of the cityscape, and that not one of the people on the side street that has endeared me today, could ever imagine.
Bill and I were early for our reservation, so we enjoyed a glass of wine in the bar below the restaurant, where we meet and chat with the owner of both (one in the same, along with one in Hong Kong), and watch her direct the new manager how she wants the furniture.
Once we are sitting on the terrance of the restaurant, looking back at the PuDong side of the river, we order a few starters of lobster and salad, and then order our meal. I order veal "faggot" with "sweetbreads." I am initially detered from that selection because of the word "faggot", then decide that it is probably just the way it is served, and decide veal sounds good. Besides "sweet bread" sounds good......I like "sweet" bread. Bill goes with steak.
Before the meal arrives, Bill gets a "swimmer" in his wine and we let the waitress know. I think she will get him a new glass of wine, Bill thinks she will "fish" it out. Bill wins. She brings over a spoon, cloth napkin, and a fresh empty glass. She fishes it out, puts it on the napkin, tells him "good wine" and asks him if he wants a clean glass. Meeting the owner already, I know this would not fly with her, but we let it go, part of the adventure in China. Bill decides he doesn't really want it, so I drink it. The wait staff continues to chuckle behind us at his facial expressions.
Our meal arrives and is pretty tasty, but mine has a funny texture, and where is the "sweet" bread?! I later learn, online, that the "faggot" is the giant meatball that was on my plate, and made up of "extra parts" of the animal. The other part, which has a strange texture, I learn several days later, is the "sweetbread." WHO in their right mind thought that they should call glands from around the heart and neck, "sweetbread!" Towards the end of our meal, fireworks start going off across the river, and the skyline is now lit up with the lights that make Shanghai.........Shanghai.
Two different worlds, only minutes apart. Both scenes.....China Beautiful!
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