I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I messaged my friend on WeChat before getting into the shower at 6pm on Saturday evening and after writing my essay for the week, asking if he wanted to go out that night. Well, I did, obviously, but not quite. While I was in the shower he replied saying yes, and that he just had to finish doing some somputer simulations for solar panels or something (?) that was making him want to throw his laptop against the wall, and we arranged to have dinner at a Mexican restaurant (the existence of which in China I was baffled by), and then go drink. So that’s what we did.
It started with me being late (as usual) and being on the wrong line of the massive Xujiahui train station. But Håkon found me, and we walked to the place called la Pistolera or something? The Chinese translation literally said “Female gun” so… anyway. We walked in, and there were more white people inside than I’d seen before in China. Even though I think I’ve written that exact sentence on here before. Someone fact-check plz. I got a burrito, and Håkon got a beer with his tacos so I got a cider to drink, which my ED wasn’t happy about but whateva. There was a live band in the restaurant, and oh my god, they were SO LOUD we could barely talk. We had to YELL. And, as if to mock us, the band only seemed to get louder and louder. So we left pretty soon after finishing our food and went to a sports bar, where, for some reason, I felt like I had to drink beer. I was already tipsy from that one cider (lol) so I waited till Håkon went onto his second beer to get one. I don’t remember what it was called, exactly, but it was mildly tolerable. But still terrible.
After talking for an hour or two, we went to find Kate and some other people she was with. We couldn’t find the place, called Helen’s, and we saw a bar that was very visibly empty, but Håkon was convinced that was the right place. He walked in very confidently, me trailing behind. The only people in tjere were the two owners sitting at the bar. When we burst in they stood up and looked at us, and Håkon just walked through looked through every cranny of the place for some reason. It felt like we were FBI busting the place, except we were the weirdos in the situation. Spoiler alert: They were not there.
Eventually, we figured out that we had to go into a building and go up four floors, and then, we were transported to the Middle East. We literally had to walk through these beaded string things in the door way (I remember trying to make one for my room out of staples in the middle of class in primary school Middle Eastern women called Helen. We found Kate and friends, who had tequila shots waiting for us. Fun fact: I’d never actually done that classic tequila shot thing with the salt and the lemon - I was half convinced that you had to snort the salt, because that’s what Harry and Aidan would do at the Danger Zone (the name of Jack etc’s dorm, host of many parties in second year). They’d snort the salt and squeeze the lemon into their eyes. Anyway, I very smoothly let Håkon go first and watched him do it without making it seem like I was studying for and exam. And then I copied. I met Kate’s friends, but the only name I remember is that of a German boy called Lars. And I only remember, because like 15 minutes after he’d introduced himself, he asked if I still remembered his name, and i had to say no. And then he asked if I at least remembered where he was from, and I had to say no again. So I made sure to remember the second time round.
The other friends were a Korean girl, a girl from Hong Kong I think? And a half-Spanish, half-Japanese guy who grew up in Taiwan. They were all going to karaoke after, so it seemed that we too were going to “KTV”. We left, carrying our house-brewed Helen’s^TM beers with us, which were nice and mild but had a really weird aftertaste.
It was interesting to observe the change in Håkon’s demeanour when talking to Lars. I don’t know if it was a subconscious thing because Lars was another tall fully-white boy, or because he was German and Håkon likes / used to live in Germany, but there was a very distinct change: he seemed almost trying to impress him? I am not making a value judgement, just on observation. I’m trying to impress people all the time.
I think it’s important to mention that I was DREADING this whole KTV thing. I don’t think I have to explain why. I also don’t think we were drunk enough, but Kate and the other two girls were really excited. We went to a KTV place that took up an ENTIRE FLOOR of MetroCity. It was labyrinthine, and looked exactly like the ones in those Singaporean movies I’d watch when I was in primary school, where the nice private karaoke rooms were perfect places for drug deals, fights, that sort of thing, with the perfect seedy background lighting of shiny black and white and silver walls, purple lighting. And it WAS kind of seedy, with an air of status and dirty money. Ok, so first, after you’ve gotten a room, you go into a pristine mini supermarket with tiny shopping trolleys and rows and rows of fancy alcohol, as well as some snacks.
They can also deliver to your room, which we were escorted to through corridors and corridors of rooms. There were tiny windows on each door, and some doors were even open, so we got a good stickybeak. It was exactly as seedy as it was in 881, Money No Enough, pretty much every Singaporean movie I ever watched on my mum’s black-and-white portable DVD player on the steps outside her office.
(my mum taught Royston, the director of this film, by the way!)
There were rooms with men in suits smoking and not singing, rooms with a whole bunch of rich old people laughing it up, another group of kids like us. And, in the room next to us, an open room where the lights were on, bottles and food everywhere, with just one woman remaining, head on the table, throwing up onto the floor.
Anyway, they gave us our two microphones and closed the heavy door to let us get on with it. Look, it wasn’t not awkward. The three other girls were really into it, and me and Håkon and Lars and the other guy, whose name was something really fancy, I remember now. But it was okay. I remember at one point “Gold Digger” by Kanye was playing, and there was a lot of n-words said by the others which was like… uncomfortable? I thought it was pretty known now that’s not okay? Not like I did anything about it. Anyway, at one point I went to the bathrooms, which were fucking grosser than Moosehead’s, and I was looking through each door as I walked. At one point I walked past a room right next to the bathroom with two young Chinese (duh) guys in suits, looking kinda gangstery. I heard them exclaim something to each other and started following me?? I just hid in a cubicle and locked the door and they walked away.
At one point all the karaoke songs chosen became Chinese, and I could sing them but didn’t know what they were, and Håkon didn’t know anything, so we left together. I caught eyes with Lars as we announced that we were leaving, and he looked so betrayed. It was nearly four am by this point. Haakon’s apartment was nearby and on the way to mine, so we said goodbye there and I crossed 8 lanes on my way home - looking both ways before crossing, but looking the wrong ways, as he pointed out. Anyway. I was so relieved the night was over. I realised, once I was alone, that I was drunker than I thought. On the way home, we’d noticed some construction workers welding away, alone, at like 3am - without eye protection, at that. Why are they the only ones at work? Why 3am? I decided to write a drunk throwaway poem about it:
I went to sleep soon after, looking forward to the same proud aloneness that next day, Sunday, knowing I had more than fulfilled my social obligation the night before.
Alas, the day was not that blissful. I had decided to go to People’s Square, a “must-see” place in Shanghai apparently. I still don’t actually know why. It’s got a big, well, square that has the opera house, a musuem, and other cultural buildings, and then a giant shopping district. Travel China Guide describes it as “a flourishing place to look around”, which seems like a very flowery way of saying there’s not much to do. If you’re thinking, why didn’t you go to the musuem? - museums make me sad and despondent and i think people just go to them out of obligation, and I’ve also been to my fair share of Chinese history museums in my lifetime. That being said, maybe I should go one day.
I woke up around 12 and took the metro to People’s Square Station. I knew things weren’t great when I felt, walking out of the train station, myself get my period out of NOWHERE. Which means I was not prepared. And then it was crowded as FUCK everywhere. I literally couldn’t walk anywhere without squeezing past another person. Which apparently People’s Square is famous for. It really lives up to its name lol. Now there was no one main attraction of the place, as I learnt, just lot of roads called Nanjing. Keep in mind that I was also just worrying about the fact that I was straight up bleeding, and being stared at for being white. Itried to find a bathroom in the metro centre, and i kind of did, complete with a 10-person long queue that I waited in for like 10 minutes, everyone, again, staring at me. Another thing is that public toilets here are all squat toilets, with I’m ok with usually, but I was NOT in the fucking mood. Also they’re disgusting, but that’s pretty normal for me by now. I don’t know what I acheived really, because all I could do was go into the cubicle and be like yep, that’s a period. So I left and miraculously found a watsons, where they sell pads (i was NOT gonna attempt to use a tampon in a public Chinese bathroom. And then some fuckwit gangster guys tried to cut me in line, but the casheir made sure I went first, so they were just at the counter with me watching me buy pads. I felt too self conscious and over it to go back to the same bathroom so I walked around a bit (yes, I know) and found a shopping centre. A lot of anxious walking around squeexing through floors and floors of old people buying Cheongsams, but I eventually found its bathroom, which was marginally cleaner. Oh - old ladies don’t lock cubicle doors, which mean you’ll often push open and ajar door to discover - okay, theres a squatting old woman there. Anyway, the whole period situation was finally dealt with, so I could relax a bit more. I was still really on edge so I started listening to a podcast to get out of my own head for a bit, and take myself out of the stressful environment. It helped. I spent about an hour looking around the shops, and then looking around the very manicured People’s Square where the cultural buildings are.
The thing is, I’m always on the defensive in public here. I’m always hyper-aware and looking out for the people staring at me, raiding an eyebrow or whispering to their partner. I always meet their gaze, just to be like “fuck you”. I think I need to just try and ignore it, but it’s easier said than done, especially when toddlers are pointing at you as you’re trying to look at an opera house.
So that outing lasted all of about an hour or so, before I retreated to my room and bed. It was very disillusioning and upsetting. I think my instagram caption articulated it well:
It’s true - all I ever want to do is hide and write (and vegetate on my phone). But I’m getting better at compromising.
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