Ni Hao!

NI HAO!

Shanghai...I loved it.

A curious city a-buzz with mad dash construction (with bamboo scaffolding, you understand), ancient buildings alongside art deco buildings, alongside state-of the-art high rises with whole sides of 30 story buildings projecting advertisements to those zipping by in pleasure boats on the Bund.

From Bali, with security guards in dark blue uniforms, heavy black polished boots, guns in holsters and a frangipani behind the ear to bustling Shanghai street culture. Steamy mid 30 degree heat, beep beep traffic, tree lined boulevards, creatively coloured double decker art deco homes, wooden carts on bitchumen roads being pulled by old men alongside silver Mercedes Benz. NI Hao!

I immediately get that 'rush' travellers often experience as you tap into a whole new world. Everything around is alien and interesting and fascinating and juxtaposed to your usual state of 'normal'.

I'm staying in a gorgeous house number 808 Changle St (shong-le lu) in the west French Concession area.

There are two entrances to 808. One access is by walking down a hutong, or lane way complete with scooters and bicycles potted plants and strings of washing hanging out to dry OR From the connecting cross street Changshu St (Shong shu lu) where a small buzzer on an imposing door must be pressed to alert the cafe staff of 'Closed Door' to come and let you in. 'Closed Door' cafe is an interesting concept and occupies the first floor of this house. You must make a reservation to eat here for breakfast, lunch or dinner and it can really only be found by word of mouth. There is no street signage or advertising for the cafe but I can attest to them making a mean breakfast as each morning's meal is complimentary to guests of the hotel. The food is all western influenced, which gave me a good start to the day of exploring Shanghai's culinary street culture.

www.quintet-shanghai.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hutong

The 'French Concession' as you might imagine has French style cafes with expansive terraces and familiar French names. Boulangeries and Patisseries, baguettes and tarte aux pomme, odd. Indochine, non? I even found street side creperies, well kind of creperies. One of my favourite street snacks was what looks like a crepe but is made from potato, like a potato pancake with shallots and seasoning sprinkled through out, they are sold by weight and depending on how much you want, cost about 1AUD. YUM! Someone told me once that potatoes had no nutritional value what-so-ever, a point to which I queried my traditional Chinese medicine studying, qualified acupuncturist, yoga teaching, massage therapist younger brother who swears they are one of the most vitamin packed vegetables around. So i don't know if my favourite Shanghai snack was even remotely nutritious or just a stodgy tummy filler. I did however by-pass the towers of raw chicken feet waiting to be barbecued in an array of sauces, nutritious or not and admired the 'china town' familiarity of roasted ducks strung up in windows. Steamed dumplings filled with pork and vegetables, or mixed spinach, onions & vinegar. Vinegar is popular on everything here, but honestly not once did i see a bottle of soy sauce on a lazy susan, or anywhere else here in Shanghai.

I was lucky enough to befriend an energetic ABC, (which is an anagram used for American born Chinese but, for me, works also for those born in Australia); who is accomplished in the 'Ninja Bat Arts' and the art of ordering and negotiating in mandarin. With this contact by our sides we were able to eat incredibly well and avoid what I imagine may have been disastrous digestive, cringing culinary moments.

For example, on an out-of-town excursion to a place called Anji, which houses the bamboo forest that was used in the filming of 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon', a group of us ate in the front room of a local's house who cooked for us from the family kitchen. Complete with chickens running around the yard and a well used chopping block out front we were led to a 'private room' ( the 'private room' appears to be a very popular status symbol here - I guess with billions of people the ultimate pleasure is privacy) with dusty dirty walls and plastic wrap over everything, oh and a piano. Of course?! 'Bat Ninja', thankfully, took complete control of the ordering procedure and rapid fired dishes at our host, who complied willingly and energetically took herself off to the kitchen to prepare our feast.

Aubergine and onion, fresh sautéed bamboo, dried and fried tiny whole fish (eeek), beef and chili, chicken something (fresh off the block - maybe not..) and yummy yummy little potato slices battered and lightly fried with vinegar and chili. No soy sauce!

I was cautious and tentative, I was a little nervous about climbing the bamboo forest mountain and having to defile it in any way other than my bad mandarin..

Xie Xie Superstar Bat Ninja and co!

Xie Xie Shanghai!

After signing a waiver form that i had no flu-like symptoms, lest I be the bearer of swine flu into China I stepped up to the Shanghainese customs checkpoint with my passport, late at night, tired and uncomfortable in that way you only get from long plane transits.

As I handed my documents over at the very clean and orderly checkpoint to a short man in smart uniform and cap I was given the option of critiquing my customs officials service.

There was a little electronic box in front of me with buttons and various emoticons; a smiley face, an ambivalent face or a sad face.

I looked at my guy, who was checking my visa without any kind of emotion and thought about it for a second.

Really, I was tired and over it as much as he seemed to be and felt ambivalent myself about the whole experience, then should I press the ambivalent button or just leave the poor guy alone?

Maybe communicating in Shanghai was not going to be as difficult as I expected?

I wondered if there were little electronic boxes everywhere that I could avoid offending people with my mandarin.

And I don't just mean offending people with the sound of my Australian accent trying to form Chinese, I mean actually offending people.

Before I left Australia I downloaded a Mandarin phrase guide onto my iPhone. I started by practising hello and thank you, you know the extreme basics.

The thing is because the only other language i speak even a little of other than English, is French and apparently there is some speech defect quadrant in my brain that switches on whenever I try out another language; it comes out with a French accent.

Which is embarrassing considering my French is so limited. But that it could be even more embarrassing than that surprised me, as i discovered with my Mandarin.

So, 'xie xie' is thank you in mandarin.

Just try to say that.

How does it sound?

Well, apparently i made up my own version, which sounded lovely and foreign to my ears where the 'xie' had more of a 'gzh-i' sound, you know, with a twist of French.

So i was saying it over and over 'gzh-i gzh-i', 'gzh-i gzh-i' a bit like how 'Gi Gi' would sound in French. 'Gi Gi', 'Gi Gi, 'Gi Gi'.

I tried my new word out on an employee of mine from Taiwan.

I watched her eyes widen in shock as soon as it came out of my mouth from my very proud looking face, before she recovered and very respectfully said "hmmm, um Jennifer what is it that you are trying to say?"

Mei Mei I'm saying thank you in Mandarin!

"ah, ok try like this;" where by she said Xie Xie and asked me to repeat til i had some semblance of it.

Satisfied, I asked her what she thought i was saying, and the reply came;

"Well Jen, actually, you were saying 'little boy's penis'"

...oh dear

So again, I hoped these little electronic boxes where everywhere, should come in handy with the taxi driver when i finally get out of the airport...

Desa Seni, Canggu, Bali Indonesia

My brother and I spent a week in Indonesia.

Deas Seni, Canngu, Bali to be exact.

We arrived just a day after the most recent fatal bombings in Jakarta, but could not have conceived of a more relaxed and safe haven as was Desa Seni for us. I felt a bit guilty being there and embracing the warm welcoming atmosphere, where they literally sound a large 'gong' when you enter the residence, when other foreigners had just been killed in the capital.

I spoke to one of the staff about the attacks here at Desa Seni about the bombings and he said 'It is terrible, but this happens here. 'What can I do but pray and live my life well and be happy to the people i meet?'

Which is about right too.

So we relaxed and embraced it...

All around us are living, breathing, photosynthesising things and clickity things; geckoes, crickets and various insects. The tick, tick ticking of men building and maintaining the gardens around us. For us two avid music lovers with our iPods and macbooks jammed full with music, we didn't turn them on til the very end.

As if the cacophony of village life was enough, that and the peace of our own silence.

We were, however, for two days and nights serenaded by ceremonial singing cascading across the rice paddy fields. A man's deep resonant voice singing devotional hymns, sometimes accompanied by drums and bells, floated around us from morning til late at night. It was the day before and the day of the Total Solar eclipse which I, of course, wanted to believe it had something to do with but our enquiries got us no further to finding out exactly what it was for.

Our day would begin either with a yoga class or breakfast. Breakfast being a bowl of mixed tropical fruit, a fresh pressed juice, a Balinese coffee or organic tea and then a hot dish, our collective favourite; the Telur Florentine. Two fresh farm eggs poached sitting on spinach from the garden that has been sautéed in garlic on top of whole wheat bread accompanied by two lightly grilled tomatoes, also plucked from the garden, sprinkled with more garlic and pesto made from the, you guessed it, basil grown in the garden.

This would always be brought to us, in our rumah wungsu by a Balinese man in his uniform of loose cotton trousers and t-shirt with a frangipani behind the ear and a warm smile wishing us a 'good morning' and to 'please enjoy our breakfast', and we believed them every time.

Our hut, rumah wungsu, is perched at the edge of the 'village resort' complex. We have a little grassed area out front with trees, a small flower garden sprouting bird of paradise and a statue of Ganesha who acts as protector of the property (she is aided by several burly security guards, who also wear frangipanis behind their ears). We look out over rice paddy fields that are tended daily and a new garden being built that already houses a few mango trees and small vegetable plots.

It felt, at the beginning of the week that it would go on forever. The days were sultry and long, sunshine and great food, stretching and napping. And then, suddenly it's over!

It is so strange the way that happens...

Every time we sat down to eat another amazing meal I would say 'How great is this food?! How good is this for us, I know I say it every time..but really, how great is this!'

And the little notes on our pillows each night. Different quotes every time;

"Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, and it's power of endurance

The cheerful man will do more in the same time, will do it better, will preserve it longer, than the sad or sullen."

Thomas Carlyle

Which is not dissimilar to our waiter's quote that I'm personally going to run with;

'What can I do but pray and live my life well and be happy to the people i meet?'

check it out: www.desaseni.com