Just One of the Locals

Well, I have had the official city tour and I've taken a trip out to Hangzou so now it was time to explore on my own!

I'd questioned a British couple about the finer points of working the Metro so my next stop Suxhou South Terminal. Easy! Like I was told, use the touch screens t select your destination and off you go. Although Shanghai is a city of nearly 30 million, everybody is screened as they enter the metro which gives you warm feeling of reassurance. I jump on the train and, despite the odd stare here and there, I settle back and enjoy the ride. I decide to hop off at People's Square and, as I weave my way out f the warren of tunnels, I pass three large glass containers each containing a host of deadly devices - guns, knives that look as though they've been snatched from the latest Kung-Fu movie set and gas canisters of every description. Now, am I reassured that these items have been seized or am I a little more concerned that these items are being carried around by every Tom, Dick and Harry?
After a brief glance, I suddenly emerge above ground. Instantly, I'm greeted by a happy smiling Chinese girl.
"Where you from?" bleats across the morning air.
"UK," I reply while continuing on my journey.
No Such luck. I've been caught!
"You American?"
"No, no, I'm from England."
The smile gets even bigger now, "Ah, you gentleman," she comments as she introduces me to her friends.
Gentleman, so they do like us after all.
Too much conversation now as she invites me for coffee with her friends to practise their English. her English seemed pretty good to me and I'd read the warnings about such scenarios in the guidebook which I had clutched firmly in my right hand.
Was she genuinely a nice girl from Shanghai pleased to see a Western face (which I almost certain she was) or was she one of those who wanted  to drag me off for a coffee and fleece me for every Yuan I had?
On this occasion, time wouldn't tell. In my true gentlemanly style, I smiled, gestured and bid my farewell.
At least, now, as I headed in the general direction f the Bund, I was safe in the knowledge that i had finally become one of the locals. As I edged away from my new-found friend, she informed me that I looked Chinese. Me? Chinese? yes, that's right, according to her I have the right colour eyes. Oh well, first time for everything. I make my escape smiling to myself that the Shanghainese consider me own of their own.

UNREST

Ok, I spoke too soon. I wander down passed the Town hall and catch my first sight of a Chinese Guard. Then they get just a little bit too close as I find mysef smack bang in the middle of some small-scale peasant revolt. I look around and witness lots of angry little men gathering wth banners and flags waving for al to see. Policemen watch the crowds as well as the stern-faced lilitary guards who look down form their little podiums.
'Great!' I think to myself. Imagine the headines - 'Welshman Arrested in Cinese Farmers' Demo'
I wonder what sentence that would carry? Fives years behind bars perhaps?

My heart rate returns to normal and I finally find the Nanjing Road - Shnaghai's equivaent to Oxford Street (in the height of the Christmas shopping period). I wander along thinking to myself if any of those protesters have seen this side of Shanghai life? or more to the point, do they really want to? Do they want to become the next victims of consumerism or were they shouting to keep hod of their traditional way of life?
I end up on the Bund and decide to venture across the water to Pudong, the financial heart of the city. To get there you have to take a short ride through the sightseeing tunnel. As you board your small theme-park style car you embark on your very own Technicolour voyage. The strobe lighting and lively commentary on this four minute journey brings a whole new meaning to tunnel travel. just imagine how much more interesting the 35 minute Chanel crossing would be if Eurotunnel decided to install such technology?
If you ever decide to venture to these eastern shores, be prepared to encounter the unexpected at every turn. As I endeavoured to track down the Pauliner Bar (yes some German beer was calling), I stumbled across an elderly gentleman parked up with his rusty old bicycle, beaming from ear to ear and shouting out with unexplained joy. On closer inspection, you noticed that he was clutching a tortoise by the the tail. I couldn't quite decide whether his shouts were an attempt to sell the poor creature to a wealthy financier or was it merely the fact that he was overcome with  emotion that he had found that night's supper?

I return to my hotel to prepare to move on to Suzhou. I head out of the city by taxi and am amazed that there are simply no rules of the road for drivers. I don't think anyone can suffer from constipation in Shanghai as a short taxi ride will cure any such problem. I try to relax and say to myself that i must return to this great city before I head to New Zealand.