Muddled

Just got back from a a journey up to the top of the Pearl Tower. It’s a radio tower on steroids that looks like its straight from the year 2100. It dominates the skyline, despite being the shortest of the mega-scrapers that dot the Pudong peninsula. We waited in line for three and a half hours to take an elevator up to the top where there’s an observation deck with a glass floor. It’s an amazing view, but the real story was the line that wrapped around the building three times.

Standing in line was a battle. An epic three hour long struggle to hold our ground and resist the never ceasing attacks of an old man, his hefty wife, and their twenty-orso year old grandson to squeeze in front of us. Amanda and I made a pretty solid barrier for about two hours and fifty six minutes. But with the elevator in sight, my back was hurting so I leaned against the wall. Three seconds later, the man had jumped between us and wedged himself in the foot of space between Amanda and the Japanese tourists in front of us. I couldn’t believe it. Then, the doors opened to the elevator and the crowd surged forward–fighting to get on. If you know me well, you know that I don’t let these sort of things slide. I reclaimed my position to block the rest of the family, but it was of no use. I was bulldozed over and had to wait for the next elevator. Not that the three minutes mattered after three hours, but it was the principle. I was not yet tough enough for China.

Strangely enough. this sort of thing isn’t uncommon. Waiting in line is the same as walking down the street, or driving for that matter. Everything seems competitive and somewhat chaotic. I think it might derive from the ultra concentrated and massive amount of people. When in public, there is no such thing as personal space, and you have to fight to get on the subway, find a taxi, or get assistance.

Driving is scarier than in Napoli–which is saying a lot. Oncoming cars will randomly enter your lane only meters from you, and your only option is to quickly swerve into the median, the shoulder, or something else. Also, a three lane highway will routinely have four or even five rows of cars. in China, the shoulders, lanes, and traffic signals are only suggestions rarely followed. In the states, a car will generally stop if its a good distance away and its going slow when you’re crossing a road. In China, they will speed up.

Although entirely different from anything I’ve ever experienced, I’m already getting used to it. Something about myself that’s always bothered me is that whenever  I brush or slightly bump into someone, I always say “sorry”. Since I got to DC two years ago I wanted to stop this because in the needlessly bitter east coast the people would look at me with the expression of “yeah, you should be”. Then I would be angry that I had said anything at all. After a few days in Shanghai, I’m a changed man. I knock into someone, and I keep on walking.