January 16th: the trek begins & indie music Shanghai style

Day 122

Went to sleep for a few hours with Asia Pacific on. Hermitage Niks was on upon waking. I did some packing double-checks and didn't have time to make myself coffee. Erin, Matt and I ambled to the hotel laden with bags to be our dresser the next few weeks.

At the point where I began to really get nervous about catching a cab, matt flagged one down, thereby usurping the authority of the hotel lady Erin enlisted to call for one.

We got dropped off out fronk of the Kodak shop, two buses idling with people milling about, Mike and Heather two towering Anglo sore thumbs. The bus to Shanghai had no heat and on the ferry the driver and his pals got embroiled in a cutthroat card game up front, chain-smoking like an Al-Anon meeting. This prompted other passengers to open their windows, letting out all the precious "exhale heat" we had generated as a group. Smart. Matt and Erin were collapsed on one another like a parka'd yin-yang, looking like newborn pups in a welping box. I listened to the Chess soundtrack and kept my spirits afloat despite the numb extremities. The excitement of the impending trip carried me.

Once in Shanghai, we directed Erin and Matt to their bus station, said a "See you later" and checked into the Amersino hotel, same one as for New Year's Eve. We tookthe subway into the heart of Shanghai's downtown proper, headed into a Mister Donut for breakfast. The donuts were great. The coffee was billed as "world famous." Yeah....for SUCKING. Three women nearby were eating shaved ice topped with lumpy glop. An idea for its name could be "Hot Karl Snow Cone."

Next, Mike negotiated with a few different camerafolk at a frenzied electronics mall to procure a 1G memory chip. 600+ pictures capability. For lunch, we indulged our lust for cheese and gave the Pizza Hut our patronage.The place was nicer than the average American Hut franchise, with a curious deco-cum-50's motif. The sauce was not the same. It seemed thinner, watered down.

Outside we sat on the steps while Mike had a post-pizza cig. A guy walked by with a guitar and he let me borrow it for a couple minutes. I played "Fake Plastic Trees," the only song I know on guitar, and it rejuvenated me. The lack of sleep the night before then waking early, plus coffee crash had me in a loagy state. A little troubadoring pricked up my blood.

We went to the outdoor marketplace, got assailed by people barking "Watch? DVD? Rolex? Gameboy?" I played the game again of asking for things they couldn't possibly provide so they'd leave me alone: "Perfume gorilla spank? Company sandwich? Big bag of pudding? Best friend?" Mike inquired about human flesh for consumption. We wandered around some winding side streets before getting back on the subway and resting at the hotel. While some disturbing Popeye cartoons played, I was delightfully robbed of consciousness for an hour.

Dusk anchored itself to Shanghai's jagged-tin skyline and we three left our cozy confines to seek nourishment. we found a ma la tong place (grab a basket, put what you want in it, they dump it into a spicy soup, kind of like personal hot pot) and it was possibly the best meal I've had yet.

We then took a cab to Harley's. I had called Chris (a friend from Myspace.com) but she was busy and said she'd catch up with us the next day. Chuck and Meagan had to study for an exam, ditto. Goey's phone was off, so I hoped to run into her at the venue, since it was her idea to begin with. Harley's was a literal underground club, a long staircase down from street level. We saw three acts: the first, Marrow Band, had a female lead singer and their sound was akin to Sonic Youth-White Stripes-Blonde Redhead. (They had no CD's, but their website is marrow-band.com) The next band, Suy, was a bit more laidback, like Velvet Underground and a drowsy Wire. The music was ok, but the lead vocalist's limited singing ability kept it from being outstanding. During soundcheck he said "Hue...Hue..." which is the "hello" form if you answer the phone, as opposed to "ni hao" which is how you greet people in person. ("Hue" is "can" and "ni hao" is "you are well.")

The last act of the evening was a trio of laptop jockeys called Aitar. They started out with some casual Orbital-IDM, then progressed into break-core, down to house, and ended with a noise finale that sounded like the primal scream of a television tuned to no certain channel. I was floored. For one, I was tremendously relieved there was an underground /indie music scene in China, and even more impressed we happened upon a venue to offer such a diverse bill to sample it. Everything's not S.H.E. and Celine Dion here after all. Aitar's accompanying video piece was top notch as well, lots of quick edit bleached-out geometrics, scenes of war, modernity on the march, development, etc. It served as a companion to the music rather than a compensator distractor proxy.

We cabbed it back to the hotel. Goey was still M.I.A, her phone still off. The club was not so large that I'd have missed her, but she might have left left before we arrived, if she'd been there at all.

I slept on the hotel sofa, alternating between fetal position and hanging my shins over the edge.