Four courtyards each styled in a different motif. An exhibit of Japanese shunga. Pieces from Doris Duke’s Shangri La. Photographs of full body tattoos. A well stocked book store and gift shop. The Honolulu Museum of Art enchanted me.
Back in February, I had one day to explore O’ahu solo on my way home to Brisbane from Vancouver and there’s no where else I would have spent it. Here are some of the art works and architecture that caught my eye.
Over a month after returning from Shanghai, my memories of the food are just as strong.
The strawberries on a bed of newspaper enticed me.
On a cold February morning outside People’s Park, G. and I enjoyed a skewer of sugared strawberries along with little bits of wax paper that just wouldn’t let go. I washed my sticky fingers in a park washroom without soap. The bathroom cleaner held the tap for me; I was propping my camera away from the water with an elbow while trying rid myself of the sugar skin. She smiled at me. I smiled back and abashedly said xièxiè.
Along with delicious confections, G. introduced me to the wet market where the eggs come in different shades and hoses stand in place of brooms.
Like proper hunters, market vendors sold nearly every part of the animal, including pig’s feet.
Around the corner the market went from tables to roadside. This is Shanghai. The city shifts from block to block.
Meals were prepared on intersections. Notice the Suntory can drip catcher. (For a relaxing time, make it Suntory time)
Believe it or not, I’m actually really enjoying Shanghai’s famous pork dumplings with spring onion here. During our afternoon meal, G. and I were two of the only diners. The wait staff were busy transforming tables and chatting behind us, likely pointing out my awkward chopstick handling.
In the end, it was all about the dumplings with the soup that squirted out when I bit into them.
Ah Shanghai. I never suspected you would be so meta.
During our adventure to People’s Square, Genevieve and I stumbled upon free admission to the Shanghai Art Gallery. According to Genevieve, whether or not patrons are charged for museums or galleries is totally random. Sometimes it’s Mao’s birthday. Sometimes it’s the guards are in a good mood. In our case, it was the final day of an erotic and slightly disturbing painting exhibition.
This is the top corner of a scene of half-clothed women. The exhibition featured mostly-nude portraits that were simultaneously real and surreal.
People went crazy for these Christina Rossetti Goblin Market girls (and boys). Snap happy patrons talked loudly, pointing to the artist’s photos and sketches. We had no idea what was happening. We didn’t even know the name of the artist. All we knew were the painting dimensions. Everything else was written in Mandarin.
On the next level up we found blown up photographs of a Northern Chinese town, completing with patrons taking photos of the photos. The nameless photographer (again, no English signage) was hyper realistic. The colours were so brilliant, we wondered if he/she was aided by Photoshop. Never the less, we enjoyed his candid shots of Chinese life.
On the top floor, we came face to face with the prints of Joan Miro. All one hundred and sixty seven of them. A group of French speaking elementary-aged students were drawing on the floor of the immense exhibit. I couldn’t help but get a photo in the gallery; when else could I stand between two life-size Miros with a security guard nodding by?
Outside the gallery we found my namesake restaurant, another ambivalent guard, a woman drinking Starbucks who obviously thought I was off my rocker. So ended another perspective-shifting gallery visit, my first in China.
Two wheeled vehicles run along the streets of Shanghai. The city is chock-full of push bikes, motorcycles, mopeds and scooters.
Cars were fully introduced to Shanghai a mere decade ago. Most of the millions get around by peddling. Many of the motorized bikes have gloves that are attached with duct tape to help fight the cold. Helmets are unpopular.
Everything is carried on bikes: fruit, vegetables, cardboard, garbage, pirated DVDs, McDonald’s delivery.
And I mean everything is carried on bikes.
From rusty frames to shiny Garfield faces, bikes in Shanghai come in all shapes in sizes.
Bikes in Shanghai are an industry. They’re simultaneously a modest means of transportation and a status symbol. The Shanghainese ride on highways, sidewalks and laneways, ringing bells along the way. Young and old cycled together; it was entirely common to see a small child standing in the foot well of a scooter as an elderly relative drove them home after school.
They inspired me; even in the winter, the people of Shanghai biked to and fro. When I returned to Mackay, I bought a Malvern Star cruiser. On the Friday of my return to Reef Catchments, I biked to work in the pouring rain. Thank you Shanghai bikes, for taking me out of my comfort zone.
There’s so much to say about Shanghai. This is the first of many installments about the city of dumplings, pearls, and foreigners.
I left Shanghai on Monday morning at 11 am and landed in Mackay at 4pm the following day, with stop overs in Seoul-Incheon and Brisbane. In that time, I slept for only an hour.
I returned to work today for the morning but went home with a stomach ache and my laptop. It’s so much easier to reply to emails and build newsletters in pajamas with a side of toast.
Because bed time is fast approaching, I present a quick but hilarious snippet of my holiday: the dogs of Shanghai.
I spotted this beauty on the sunny Saturday afternoon Genevieve and I spent walking with her parents through Hongkou. Don’t you love the booties? And his/her expression?
Ah, the elusive tiger-dog found only in crowded Shanghai parks. An truly fashionable endangered species.
This puppy stole my heart. I literally squealed when I saw him/her in the flower market, as Genevieve will testify.
As I learned, dogs have been/are bread in Shanghai for eating but it has become less de rigeur with the increasing Western presence in the city. Most of the dogs we saw I assumed were kept as pets, as they were identifible breeds and often well groomed. Cats, on the other hand, were almost exlcusively feral from my observation. Although they were mangy, it didn’t stop me from exclaiming ‘Look! Kitty!’ when we saw a cat darting through the lilongs. Just wait until my post about the rest of the animals in Shanghai. Get ready for crickets, chickens, and turtles.
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