My
mother in South Africa was not impressed when she heard I was going to
Shanghai. “Are you sure you’ll be safe?” she wrote. Always the intrepid
traveller, I emailed back and said, “Of course! I’ll be fine.”
I
touched down in September 2014 and Shanghai was a surprise in many ways. A city
of contrasts, of brass, glass, glitz and glamour, swirling and flashing neon,
concrete towers, and thousands of bicycles, scooters and motorbikes whose
riders totally ignored red lights and pedestrian crossings. Throw in a few
temples, dingy slum areas that were literally one street removed from top-branded
retailers, and a plethora of Starbucks and you’ll have a glimpse of Shanghai.
I
had a fabulous few days and all too soon it was time to retrace my steps to New
Zealand. I asked the concierge at the hotel to arrange a taxi to the bus
station for me. This consisted of standing in the street and flagging down the
first taxi that drove past. Unfortunately, neither the concierge nor the driver
could speak English and my request to be dropped at the bus station was met
with blank stares. Eventually the concierge took my paper with the English address
on it into the hotel and came out with it written in Chinese characters.
Thirty
minutes later I realised the trip was taking far too long. I tried to
communicate with the taxi driver but was met with blank stares – so eventually
sat back to see where I would end up. It turned out to be Shanghai Stadium! All
I could think was the receptionist had confused the word station with stadium.
“No!
No!” I shook my head at the bemused driver as he tried to usher me out of
the car. In a flash of inspiration I pulled out my phone and tried to look up
Shanghai Bus Station in the map app. I couldn’t find it but it did show me
Shanghai Train Station in English and Chinese. “Here, take me here.” I pointed
to the destination on the screen and understanding dawned on his face.
Twenty
minutes and 88 Yuan later I was at the train station. I have ridden trains and
the underground in many large cities and as I looked at the snaking queues,
x-ray machines and Chinese signage, I knew I was in trouble. So there I stood,
a relatively tall, pale-skinned foreigner, alone in a city of 23 million without an English
speaker in sight. I had allowed plenty of time to get to the airport but the
minutes were speeding by. I needed a miracle. I prayed for a miracle. Thirty
seconds later he walked up. “Do you need a taxi?” he asked in English.
“Yes
please, to Pudong Airport.”
“250
Yuan.”
“Fine,
let’s go.” I followed him to a car park and discovered the car was not a
branded taxi – and – you’ve guessed it – the driver could not speak English. A
few doubts crept in along with thoughts of abductions and human trafficking. I
could disappear into the bowels of Shanghai and my family would never hear from
me again. I glanced at my watch, thoughts racing frantically. I’m too old to be sold as a prostitute. I’ll
have to trust he is my miracle.
The
next problem was I needed to draw cash as the driver did not have an eftpos
machine in his car. Our go between translated this for him and then we were on
our way, hurtling through traffic into a seedy part of the city. He slammed on
brakes and drew up by a set of Perspex booths. It turned out that each housed
an ATM and you entered and bolted the door behind you. Sixty seconds later,
mission accomplished, he put foot and roared towards the airport, cursing all
and sundry in an unknown dialect.
I
had the map app open on my phone and was relieved to see he was heading in the
right direction. Thirty minutes later I discovered he could speak one English
word. “Money,” he demanded as Pudong International appeared on the horizon.
I
handed over the 250 Yuan and he tapped something out on his phone and showed
me. “360.”
“No!”
I said. “We agreed on 250.”
He
slowed down shaking his head and his phone. “Money.” I was running out of time so
eventually handed over another 110 Yuan figuring he could still knock me over
the head and drive off with all my belongings! I made it to check-in with five
minutes to spare, a racing heart and an empty purse!
So,
Mom, I’m home, I’m safe, you were right, and I promise my next destination will
be one where English is spoken fluently!
