Shanghai

Once known as the whore of Asia, back in the pre-war concession era, modern Shanghai is more about fine dining than drug running these days.


We started with pre-dinner cocktails at the Marriott. The lobby is on the 38th floor – a dwarf by Shanghai standards, but enough to give the feeling that you're an extra in the Jetsons, and to induce sudden vertigo as you lean too far into the window for a photo. Our next stop was the rather tacky Sky Dome Bar, inside a UFO plonked on top of the 45 storey Radisson, the other side of People's Square (there's also a revolving restaurant inside the UFO, which I'm sure will has fantastic views, if not food).



For dinner we headed down to The Bund – the former British concession on the left bank of the Huangpu river, where western companies built grandiose headquarters in the early 20th century. Empty since the war; now the most expensive shops, bar and restaurants jockey for space inside – capitalism goes full circle. Our choice was New Heights on the top floor of Three on the Bund – a fusion restaurant (i.e. modern European). One hundred quid lighter, we sat at the roof bar to admire the Blade Runner night scape across the river in Pudong.



We started day two with brunch in the French Concession, before going on a hunt for a replacement for my increasingly knackered rucksack (I've had it 10 years, it's been a lot of places, but there's only so much I can do with gaffer tape). The hotel, malls and metro are all nicely air-conditioned; the streets however, are like a Turkish Bath, and stepping outside can be a frankly unpleasant experience.



New rucksack safely secured, we made for the Bund Tourist Tunnel. This is a rail tunnel under the Huangpu, where some bright spark had the great idea of running perspex bubble cars, while filling the tunnel with psychedelic lighting, and having inflatable ghouls for your car to run over. The tourist experience is completed by having an annex of the China Sex Museum at the other end (admission included with our ticket).



Dinner was at Yin in the French Concession – good quality Chinese with no MSG. And in true colonial style, the only Chinese in the place were the staff.



The Boat to Japan
Our two day ferry to Kobe left the international passenger terminal at lunch time, in stifling heat and humidity. We could barely see the Oriental Pearl Tower across the river, which was a pity as the journey down the Huangpu promised to offer superb views back to the city.



The level of traffic on the river is incredible, with perhaps a dozen barges carrying coal, sand and timber, passing every minute on their way up stream. Before the Huangpu hits the Yangtze estuary, the banks become increasingly industrial; first with ship yards, then factories, which leave a nasty smell in the air. It was at this point that we hit a heavy thunder storm. The deck quickly flooded, and as I ran around in my flip-flops, with countless lightening flashes all around, it accrued to me that I might make a good lightening conductor. Alas the storm quickly passed, and we crossed a very clam East China Sea.

Being a Japanese vessel, there was of course a Karaoke bar. Karaoke is treated differently to the UK (where it's only done when very drunk, and usually sounds like a cat being tortured) – blokes would wander in, pay their 100 yen (50 pence), sing a song, and then leave. Whether anyone was listening seems unimportant. On the second night the 100 yen fee was dropped, leading the place being packed with various quality Chinese and Japanese karaoke.