Shanghai flights. We took a taxi at 6:30 am yesterday to the tiny airport in Lijiang. As I was waiting to board, I heard a lady ask me, “Ni de xiao tu zi zai na li?” I was caught a bit off guard, considering some random Chinese stranger was asking me where my little rabbit was. When I turned around though, I realized it was one of the people from old town that I had approached the night before with my friend’s furry pet. I had to confess to her that it wasn’t actually my rabbit. The connecting flight, Kunming to Shanghai, was my 13th flight this trip, but the first with a cartoon safety video. China Eastern must have hired the Pokemon artists: anime characters (spiky hair, bulging eyes, lines for noses) buckling seatbelts, stowing their luggage, reaching for oxygen masks. And the real people? What should they do in case of an emergency? Shanghai delights. The main reason for coming to Shanghai was to see my best friend Zack’s parents, Candace and Barry. My second set of parents. My chocolate challah providers. My loudest volleyball cheerleaders. They have been on a group tour of China for the past 2 weeks, ending today here in Shanghai. When they found out that I would be in China at the same time, there was no question – we were meeting up. Not knowing where they would be or where I would be at that time (now this time), they informed the company of their guest and worked it all out: getting me to Shanghai, booking me a room in the same hotel, and saving me a seat on the tour bus. (This morning, Candace interrupted the guide for a moment to introduce me to the 27 other people: “…one of our son’s dearest friends and honorary member of the family…”) Fast forward to yesterday. After a long day of traveling, after almost 2 months of traveling, I knocked on their hotel door. Like I was knocking on their front door in LA (though I usually just let myself in). It was surreal. Unbelievably great to see familiar faces. To say Harvard-Westlake, and not have to say “my high school.” To mention the Mexico trip, and know they've seen pictures. To swap embarassing stories about Zack (just kidding, buddy). I didn’t walk out with a chocolate challah in hand, but it’s okay just this once. I can’t say I’ve been roughing it thus far, but this hotel is by far the nicest. More than 3 channels. Internet in the room. A robe and slippers. (I’m just looking around.) A bath…with bubbles. Outlets. Hot water. Carpet. No bug nets. Space. Art on the walls. And an incredible city view. Not to mention the food… Shanghai bites. Our first steps out of the airport were towards the golden arches. Like flies being lured by a light bulb. I resisted for 40 some days, but Jamie and I agreed – it was time for a Big Mac. The meals have been a bit classier since then. The hotel’s dinner buffet looked like it was crafted by Willy Wonka – the extravagance, the presentation. I circled the area like a shark, eyeing the various stations while formulating a plan of attack. It took 5 rounds to execute properly: 3 of dinner and 2 of dessert. Then today for lunch, we ate with the tour group. In traditional Chinese style, the dishes just kept coming as food was consolidated, plates stacked, and glasses rearranged to avoid the spoon arms of Lazy Susan. Shanghai sights. The amount of walking today countered the amount of eating. We went from the dignified Yu Yuan gardens to the shady knock-off markets. From admiring coy ponds and architecture to admiring Pradas and Polos. We made an awesome bargaining team, pulling one another away from stalls and creating parent-son scenarios to attain that lower price. My Chinese was definitely put to use as we negotiated the day away and turned down “Hello hello” people, as Barry calls them. Shanghai nights. A stroll along the Bund, a riverside promenade lined with European buildings, and boat ride down the Huangpu River were the perfect compliment to a guided tour and dense markets. Shanghai kites filled the sky during the evening. Shanghai lights were switched on after dark. Shanghai heights were outlined by the competing neon. The space needle, the office buildings, the apartment complexes – all at least 50 stories high, and new ones popping up like flowers from the metropolitan soil. Watered with foreign investment. Tended by the millions of Chinese construction workers. The stats are crazy: roughly 50% of the world’s cranes have been here for the past 15 years; nearly 21 million live in the city. And finally: Shanghai goodnights. Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.

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