Broiling In Shanghai

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Our journey to China began passing through Beijing Airport, reaching Shanghai on the hottest day of the year. It was over 99 degrees Fahrenheit, with 90% humidity.

The line for the taxis was surreal, snaking around on itself like at Disneyland.
But Disneyland doesn't have Shanghai's temperatures or humidity, nor does it have thousands of Chinese people queuing in the heat and humidity.

After our 16 hour flight I actually entered a dreamlike state for a few seconds,
spacing out on an hypnotic billboard on the wall nearby and hearing the foreign tongue.

Later we checked out the city nightlife- the people, motor scooters, pedicabs and taxis.
We ate noodles and dim sum.

At our high-class hotel, we tiredly rebuffed the requests of a attractive and persistent lady of the evening down at the bar, the next morning taking a cab to the train station.

There we left behind the opulence and non-Asians, to join the many Chinese people traveling to local destinations, ours being Shaoxing.

This would be the first of many times where we would attract interested stares,
and where my Chinese skills would be tested attempting to explain our wishes.

It was also the first of many, many places where Chinese people would come to our aid, and in some cases, rescue.

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