Shanghaied

The 767 was jumping about. A long sleepless night was at the end. Luckily without the old communist era movies since the onboard entertainment system didn't work. The winds and the clouds played with the plane as we decended upon Pudong airport. The new airport. Right at the sea. I was a bit surprised by the location, since it obviously meant a lot of side winds on the runway. It did. The plane jumped, banked and rotated as the pilot struggled to keep it straight. With a loud crash, we hit the runway. We swayed from side to side on the runway before the pilots hit the breakes and reversed the jetstream. Some people applauded. I didn't. I just shook my head. Thinking the placement probably had more to do with precious Shanghai property space than best site. 
Inside the terminal we were met by officials staring concentrated on their screens while a thermal scanner checked the temperature of our foreheads. H1N1. Swine flu. Some people wore mounth-covers. Thinking it would do any good against a virus. According to what I have read, it has more potential of capturing bacterias than keeping viruses out. But if it makes you feel better, by all means. 
I had just over one and a half hour to get to the Nanpu Brigde Metro Station to get my tickets for Shengsi Island. I opted for the Maglev. An ultra-high speed train levitating on a magnetic field. It was supposed to ride at 431 km/h, and be as smooth as silk. It did neither. It only ran full speed at certain times of the day. When I rode it, the top speed was 300. And it was all but smooth. The airport train to Gardermoen is a lot smoother. It shook and bounced and vibrated. And smelled. High tech doesn't make anything good. It just makes it high-tech.
8 minutes after leaving the airport, we arrived at the city centre, where I tried to catch a cab the last bit to the station. The cab driver didn't know where it was (surprise...). But he drove to the area where he thought it would be, and asked a guy who spoke some English. He managed to explain to the driver where it was, and I arrived 30 minutes ahead of schedule. I waited for the other white guys to show up, and after a few minutes, a guy who presented himself as Richard appeared. He had already picked up his ticket and took me to the lady who arranged it all. We waited for the others, but they never showed up.
On Google Earth, I had noticed a gigantic bridge across the bay from Shanghai to an island. The bus rode across this bridge. It was tryly gigantic. With almost no cars crossing. It became apparent why. The island was a gigantic deep water harbour for cargo and tankers from all over the world. And the speedboat to Shengsi and other islands around Shanghai. After sweating in the overcrowded waiting room for half an hour, I and Rich finally got onboard the aircon'ed speedboat that would take us to Shengsi and the others. Andy from last year would meet us at the port with a taxi. The boat was large, but sped off across the waves. Powered by engines that thundered underneath the seat where I was sitting. My bags where steaming hot from lying on the floor during the one hour ride.
Andy didn't meet us at the port. Rich called him. "You here already?!" he said. His ride had taken almost an hour longer. A few minutes later, he and his girlfried, Emma met us. He smiled when he saw me. "Great seeing you again!" he said and gave me a hug. I opened the trunk of the taxi and threw my bag into it. Only to notice the wet floor and the fishy smell. Nice. I later found that the wet was water from washing the fishy smell off... So my bags fortunatly did not smell like I had dumped them in a fish tank for a month. 
Rich lives in Beijing, and thus spoke chinese quite well. This came in handy in a number of occasions during our stay at the island. Especially when we were going somewhere and tried to explain where. Even then, the drivers had problems. Imagine what it would be without speaking the language.
Most of the group had settled in two hotels, of which one had aquired the name "the blue hotel". I and Rich agreed to share a room. Here we also learned a bit about the chinese beurocrazy with an emphasis on crazy. We all had to go to the local police station to register. The government likes control. It may appear that you are free to go where you like. But that is only if they know where you are at all times. One of the others in the group was approached by what we later found to be an agent. He was very interested in how many foreigners where in her group and especially if they where americans and journalists. These two seems to be the root of all evil of the world. How do we know it was an agent? Most people does not speak english. Those that do, can be divided into two : Those who speak broken english, and those who speak fluent. If the latter show a high interest in you and your whereabouts, it is an agent. If three police officers speak to you, and one speaks fluent, he is an agent. The others are
normal police. So now you know.

The photo this time is of the interior of the speed boat. Enjoy! :-)

Ragnar
With a licence to sweat