Panda Pajama Party

Dearest All: Thank you so much for your outpouring of support. Really. I am so humbled that people around the world even read this blog, much less respond with such care.

Twenty-one days left in Shanghai and counting. And what am I doing? Procrastinating, that's what. A scant five weeks ago, I unpacked the entire house when our shipment finally arrived from its three-month oceanbound journey spanning Seattle to Shanghai. I just can't even stand the Sisyphean task of boxing everything back up. No no no no no nooooooooo.

Good thing then that my college friend, Shelli, called this morning and asked if I wanted to go to Yuyuan Garden to shop for my daughter's birthday party favors. As my friends know, I am not much of a shopper. I don't care for the butt brush--you know, when all the merchandise is stuffed so close together, you can't move without having your tush brush against something. Well, welcome to shopping in Shanghai.

However. Shopping or packing. You can guess which was the lesser evil. Let the butt brush begin.

My daughter chose a PANDA PAJAMA party as her birthday festivity theme. No problem, I thought. Uh-huh. Now, China is The Land of the Panda, right? So tell me why it is virtually impossible to find a single panda anything. Frogs, yes. Rabbits, yes. Tigers, yes. Strange, unidentifiable creatures, oh YES. But pandas?

(Side note: in China, what you see above are PLUSH animals. STUFFED animals are taxidermical specimens.)

For an hour, I trolled the enormous market for panda trinkets, scouring stall after stall. At last: panda stickers. And then nirvana for the paper freak that I am: a stall that sold only giftwrap and paper bags. Including one with BAMBOO on it. Perhaps not a panda, but do we all agree that panda food is good enough?

Today I am thankful for girlfriends who know how to divert me and force me out of my big, must-be-packed-soon house...even if it is with shopping.

Shanghai | turnSTYLE: Francine Martin, Shanghai Savant

turn·stile –noun
1. a structure of four horizontally revolving arms pivoted atop a post and set in a gateway or opening in a fence to allow the controlled passage of people.


turn·STYLE - noun
1. Justina's snapshot profiles of cool people in Shanghai who are creating and defining China style.


Let's just face it. There are some people who are cooler than we can ever dream to be. Those who ooze style and hipness, regardless of age, regardles of what's "in," regardless of what magazines deem beautiful and au currant. Even more impressive are those hipsters who can be chic even while wearing Naots. (Which are kissing cousins of Birkenstocks, yes?)

See, chic?

Meet Francine Martin, woman of many talents beyond being effortlessly cool: editor, model, professional expat, and Shanghai's most savvy savant who knows the ins and outs of what's hot and hopping in our city shops. After making her home in Asia for the last 25 years, she's sharing her vast insider info

with discriminating shoppers via her East of the Sun treasure-finding excursions.

I had to meet the woman herself after reading about Francine in a recent round-up of the Shanghai shopping scene in The New Yorker. As Patty Marx wrote in her article:

"The tailor whipped up a snappy little dress to Mai’s specifications and delivered
it to my hotel three days later. I wore it to an appointment with Francine
Martin, an American who leads shopping tours of Shanghai, to sites recondite and
renowned (www.eastofthesun-asia.com). “Thirty-three dollars?”she said. “Very
nice, but one should never pay more than twenty dollars for a simple custom-made
dress.” (Stall 237 also makes men’s shirts of Egyptian cotton for $15, but Martin probably knows where they can be had for $10.)"

If Chris Buckley (Shanghai turnSTYLE, volume 1, September 12) is right, and we're all collectors of something or another in Shanghai, then Francine's the kind of person I want to collect in my life: she's smart and creative and curious. Full of life. And adventurous. Way adventurous. She's the woman I'd beeline to at a cocktail party simply because of the way she carries herself. In an instant, I'd know: this is a woman who has a story to tell!

Am I right or am I right?

Francine doesn't just live in Shanghai. She lives in the Old Town of Shanghai, calling home one of the historic lilongs. After meeting me at the entrance of her lilong, Francine took me on a quick walking tour of its alleys, pointing out the art deco and traditional features of the buildings. (Families used to have their names carved above their doors.) She simply could not help but share the beauty of her neighborhood.

We took two steps--not even enough time for me to grab my notebook and pen!--before she introduced me to the lifeblood of her neighborhood: the communal sinks (many people don't have running water),


the neighborhood dumpling guy,
the rice vendor outside her door.


And then, welcome to my idea of nirvana: Francine's well-curated abode.




All the details in her home captured her traveling and treasure-spotting spirit--from her collection of delicate teapots to the outdoor courtyard. Where, incidentally, she had set the most charming spread of pastries and tea. I was so touched. And felt so taken care of, which I think must be one of the key reasons why Francine excels at what she does. She makes you feel cherished and assured that you are getting the best of the best.

And that's why (I have to admit) I read her ming pian (business card) and shook my head: "Francine, you aren't a personal shopper. This is just wrong." I can be so rude, can't I? But I felt like I had been catching up with a longtime girlfriend, and we girlfriends are nothing if not honest with each other.

Her eyes gleamed--thankfully in agreement. "I put together creative outings, that's really what I do. I get a vicarious pleasure from giving people an experience or showing them an item they had no idea existed in the world."

Whether you're a knitting aficianado on the lookout for the finest cashmere yarn or an eco-traveler who yearns for a foldable bicycle, Francine is the one to call. (Those people have, in fact, called on Francine.) She's got the research chops from years of being an editor (that's called fact-checking for people not in publishing!). And she's got the connections from living here for decades. And best of all, she's got the negotiating chops. I was so relieved when she eyed my purse, and after I told her what I paid for it, she nodded approvingly: "I'd say you did very well."

What would I say to that? I'd say that I would entrust my own mom and mother-in-law and my best girlfriends with Francine. I would give them time with Francine as a gift. And that is high praise.



Coordinates:
Francine Martin
East of the Sun
http://www.eastofthesun-asia.com/
francine@eastofthesun-asia.com

Shanghaied by Shopping

Writing really has got to be the best job on the planet! I returned to my novel this week, which first entailed setting up a workspace. Candle, computer, journal, pen, and pencil. What else do I need? (Well, I need to put away my phone so that I keep my writing time sacred.)

This does prove that you can write virtually anywhere. Even on the ground when you have no furniture, but a story you must tell.

And then there are the distractions. Which are really just adventures disguised. One of my new Shanghai friends, Mr. Bachelor Guy Evan, sent me a great article from the New Yorker about my new hometown. In it was this highly intriguing paragraph...

"The tailor whipped up a snappy little dress to Mai’s specifications and
delivered it to my hotel three days later. I wore it to an appointment with
Francine Martin, an American who leads shopping tours of Shanghai, to sites
recondite and renowned (www.eastofthesun-asia.com). “Thirty-three dollars?”
she said. “Very nice, but one should never pay more than twenty dollars for
a simple custom-made dress.” (Stall 237 also makes men’s shirts of Egyptian
cotton for $15, but Martin probably knows where they can be had for $10.)"

How could I resist this? How does one make a living from shopping?! So guess who booked an interview with Francine next week as part of my Shanghai Cool project? (I plan to interview at least one cool person every week, and my list now includes Francine.) YAY!

Speaking of shopping, while waiting for my friend Shelli this morning in a Starbucks, I heard English. It was bliss to hear words that I understand. Without a problem. Even if it was eavesdropping. Now I know why my parents were so delighted to hear Taiwanese, their mother tongue, on the first weekend walk after they moved to Seattle.

As providence would have it, this English-speaking woman was short a few RMB, and I spotted her the difference. She said she'd pay that random act of kindness forward...and I said, "No, you'll pay it back to me! Just call me! Please!" How pathetic is it that I am not above paying for new friends? Ha! (Angela did have the coolest bag and a very hip vibe...and we exchanged numbers. And she did, in fact, text me.)

So after my daughter declared our house SAD, my friend Shelli has staged a shopping intervention and took me (the world's most impatient shopper) to her favorite rug maker, an hour's drive from where we live. An hour. Did I mention an hour away? However, an hour with Shelli is paradise. We could be in a garbage dump and still be able to chat happily.

There is nothing easy about shopping in Shanghai. Even in the grocery stores, you don't just pick your produce, pop it into a bag, and finish the rest of your marketing. No. There is someone who weighs and stickers your bag for you BEFORE you get to the cashier. I learned this the hard way.

The key to shopping in Shanghai is to know precisely what you want and what you're willing to pay BEFORE you enter a store. Clarification: these aren't just stores--they are warehouses filled with stalls of merchants. No price is a set price. Everything is negotiable. And there is a bewildering array of goods. Here is one tiny section of the mega-rug / curtain / bedding shopping complex.

Meanings are lost in translation. I know that. They're lost even when we speak the same language. So whether I get the 9' by 12' rug that I ordered--or a 9cm by 12cm rug--that is the question that will be resolved in three days when the rug is ready.

Everyday is an adventure. Every day.

Culture Shock!

Frankly, I had always wondered why so many women living abroad joined the American Women's Club, stayed put in their tidy expat compounds, and when they ventured out, traveled in packs. Now, I do.

While we've been able to laugh (usually hours AFTER the fact) at our stupid newbie moments, during them, it's all sweat and tears. Language isn't just a barrier; it's the Great Wall.

Take today.

I went foraging for furniture. (Although...take a look at this cute sofa I found. Are the orange accessories a yes or a no?)

Anyhow, all the guidebooks said to go to this one antique shop. I should have known better. Can you say tourist trap? But, heck, we traveled a full HOUR to get to the place. Rather than call it a waste of a day, I learned that just 2 kilometers away was an old village.

So off we went, all happy and proud of ourselves for being adventurers.

And then came lunch.

I decided that one week of acclimatizing to Shanghai wasn't quite enough time for our stomachs to handle street food.

So we ducked into a little restaurant, crammed with people, where I thought I was ordering won ton soup. Instead, I got...

...the bowl of mystery. Under full disclosure, it was an expensive bowl of mystery.

My "bu yao" (I don't want it!) didn't do much to remove the bowl from our table. Neither did pantomiming that no-I-did-not-order-this. Clearly, I need to study my Mandarin more. No translation required for the tittering among the waitstaff. *sigh*

And just to wallow in my ineptness, let me just mention my first grocery shopping expedition to Carrefour. You would think: hey, it's a French company. I'll be able to get around this grocery store just fine! Uh-huh. And you would think: hey, I'm a regular shopper of the Asian food stores in Seattle. I'll be able to get around just fine. Repeat after me: uh-huh.

There was no preparing for the sheer number of people in the store. Nor the bewildering array of products, most of which I have never seen before. To be blunt, I went catatonic. As in I was able to steer my cart, but not much else. I literally put 3 things in my grocery cart. Meanwhile, my husband dumped the entire contents of the beverage aisle into his cart.

So I was very much relieved when I took the kids for an evening stroll back at our home...and there, waiting for me on my computer, was a message from one of my best friends from college. We now live 10 minutes away from each other in Shanghai. She announced that she was back in town!

I am so eating humble pie tonight...and let me tell you, it tastes good. YAY! A friend who speaks my language and knows her way around Shanghai. A friend who I can hang out with. YAY!