We are finally underway,--in the air that is--after a bit of a delay at the airport where first they told us that our flight to Chicago was canceled, and then, to add insult to injury, they told us that we were being “involuntarily downgraded” from first class to coach. If we were willing to fly coach there was another plane we could get on and if not, we could go home and wait until tomorrow. Not an option, we’ll fly coach, although I will demand a refund for that portion of our journey upon our return. Then, miracle of miracles, we were magically re-upgraded, and now we sit in first class on an earlier flight which has left later than the flight originally canceled if you can follow that. There is “weather” in Chicago.
I’ve been watching the weather in Chicago all week--lots of snow, thousands of flights cancelled, but please God, just get us there so that we can get on our flight to Shanghai sometime in the vicinity of 11:00 AM tomorrow. For tonight, we will slosh our way to the Sheraton, go to sleep and dream dreams of Chinese lanterns twinkling on dimly lit streets in the Old City, dumplings lighter than air served in garden restaurants near the Bund, and happy people in greenery laden parks performing ritual martial arts to keep fit and to preserve their culture. That last one may be a fantasy, however, because the weather in Shanghai, while not exactly Chicago-esque, will not be warm.
Shanghai has air of mystery about it, to my uninitiated eye. I picture deals being done in smoke filled cafes, shifty-eyed merchants trying to sell me all sorts of contraband in back alleys, skyscrapers that scream modernity juxtaposed with old town narrow streets and ancient buildings. Then there is the old term “Shanghaied” as in “He was shanghaied by (fill in the blank) in the prime of his life!“ I think that means something like kidnapped while under the influence, but I’m not entirely sure. I’ll look it up.
We are staying in an area called the French Concession, and until I read about it, I had no idea that such neighborhoods existed in a Chinese city. The way it has been described in my reading, I picture it as an area of tree-lined avenues with trendy shops, chic townhouses and fashionable restaurants--not Chinese at all! More like Buenos Aires, Paris or the brownstone lined avenues of New York. But we shall see and I will report my findings in future entries.
Our pilot has just informed us that we will be in a holding pattern for an hour or so before we can land because flights are backed up, and who knows what lays in store for the rest of the evening. But for now, I’m thrilled to be here and can’t wait for the days ahead to unfold. Love to all of you, my dearest family and friends.
I’ve been watching the weather in Chicago all week--lots of snow, thousands of flights cancelled, but please God, just get us there so that we can get on our flight to Shanghai sometime in the vicinity of 11:00 AM tomorrow. For tonight, we will slosh our way to the Sheraton, go to sleep and dream dreams of Chinese lanterns twinkling on dimly lit streets in the Old City, dumplings lighter than air served in garden restaurants near the Bund, and happy people in greenery laden parks performing ritual martial arts to keep fit and to preserve their culture. That last one may be a fantasy, however, because the weather in Shanghai, while not exactly Chicago-esque, will not be warm.
Shanghai has air of mystery about it, to my uninitiated eye. I picture deals being done in smoke filled cafes, shifty-eyed merchants trying to sell me all sorts of contraband in back alleys, skyscrapers that scream modernity juxtaposed with old town narrow streets and ancient buildings. Then there is the old term “Shanghaied” as in “He was shanghaied by (fill in the blank) in the prime of his life!“ I think that means something like kidnapped while under the influence, but I’m not entirely sure. I’ll look it up.
We are staying in an area called the French Concession, and until I read about it, I had no idea that such neighborhoods existed in a Chinese city. The way it has been described in my reading, I picture it as an area of tree-lined avenues with trendy shops, chic townhouses and fashionable restaurants--not Chinese at all! More like Buenos Aires, Paris or the brownstone lined avenues of New York. But we shall see and I will report my findings in future entries.
Our pilot has just informed us that we will be in a holding pattern for an hour or so before we can land because flights are backed up, and who knows what lays in store for the rest of the evening. But for now, I’m thrilled to be here and can’t wait for the days ahead to unfold. Love to all of you, my dearest family and friends.
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