Notes from Shanghai

By Frank McMains

What’s In a Name?

One of the more remarked upon traits of the Chinese is their proclivity for atypical English names. A server hustled past me in a restaurant, carrying a stack of plates and wearing a nametag that declared him “Potato.”

I bought a bottle of wine from a girl named Charles and one morning the manager at the Howard Johnson called himself Alpha. Clearly not to be messed with. In this spirit, I endeavored to select a ridiculous Chinese name. Feeling very game, I selected “Peanut.” The Chinese word for peanut is made by combining the characters for “flower” and “to give birth.” Feel free to puzzle that out.

Chancing the bizarre looks I might be inviting with such a name, and if some brave girl was going to be Charles, then I would be Peanut or possibly Birthing Flower. China is a land of subtlety currently expressed by the divergent reactions of my two Mandarin teachers. The early morning teacher, who speaks almost no English, commended my name and said it was very popular in China. The second teacher, who has a solid command of my mother tongue, laughed out loud and said “No one in China will forget your name” when I proudly declared myself Peanut.

Strong Musk Bone-Strengthening Plasters

I had slept funny and hurt my shoulder, not a handicap but it hurt. So, I visited the ship’s doctor, a doctor of Chinese medicine. He advised three treatments. Acupuncture, which I was prepared for and a little bit interested in. Something that sounded like “scraping,” which was unnerving enough, but compounded with his violent hand gestures, got me worrying. And, lastly Dr. Liu advised massage. This little episode deserves its own email, but, in brief, after the needles (electrified, mind you), the tonics, the scrapping, the aggressive massage and the “Strong Musk Bone-Strengthening Plasters” I feel much better.

A glance at the plaster’s ingredients was less assuring, among them was simply listed “etcetera.” They had me at Man-Made Musk and Sichuan Monkshood.

Architectural and Gastronomic Observations

The plan is to head into the French Concession for dinner and drinks at 6 PM. Shanghai retains much of its character as a main European port of trade during the first part of the last century. The French Concession is a well-preserved example of how the city grew under both Chinese and international influences.

The streets are narrow. The buildings are not often over three stories and are built with grey bricks accented with red tile. In all, it is charming. Upturned eaves, in the Chinese style, and distinctly European windows and doors. Six over six with gently curved lintels. Maoming Road, in the French Concession is famous for it’s expat drinking dens and lively nightlife. Additionally, many of the best restaurants in the city are there. I have been enjoying eating local food but it was fish head day at the Fudan cafeteria (or shutang, which is more accurately translated as mess hall and it is closer to how I imagine boot camp food than to Piccadilly). I was not compelled.

Man cannot live on garlic shoots and boy choy alone. Well, not this Peanut anyway.