Pointing my way around Shanghai

I’ve gotten used to pointing to things in Shanghai. I point at menus in restaurants or if there are no pictures of the food (or English descriptions) I point at other diners’ food. I point at metro lines, I point at elevator numbers. I point at street names on maps. I point at bottles of water or images of mocha coffee drinks.


It’s embarrassing and sort of lazy. Most wait staff and shop employees speak at least a little English and most signs are also in English or Pinyin (the Romanization of Chinese characters), but I’ve found for now pointing and using other body language is easier.



Placemat at Burger King. When you walk into fast food restaurants (KFC, Burger King and McDonalds are plentiful here) they have picture menus at the ready for you to point at.



I came to Shanghai with my locked iPhone I used in the U.S. because I had heard that many shops in Shanghai would unlock it for a fee and then I could use a local Chinese SIM card.

At a mall in the People’s Square area an entire floor was populated with cell phone shops. I went from shop to shop to shop trying to ask if they would unlock my iPhone. I first would point to the phone, then I would make an “unlocking” motion with my hand, like I was unlocking a door. Then I’d rub my fingers together like “money,” hoping that would indicate I wanted to pay to have my phone unlocked.

When that failed – which was just about every time – I took out my China Mobile SIM card and tapped it on the top of my phone like I wanted to put it in there.

That never worked, and while everyone was polite, I could tell some were getting annoyed that I just wouldn’t go away.

The only time I successfully conveyed that I wanted to have my phone unlocked was with a worker at a Best Buy whose English was very advanced (who then told me that maybe a private shop would do it, but by that point I’d wasted almost half a day on cell phones and just broke down and bought a primitive Nokia model).



Because I didn’t want to only post a Burger King photo, this is the area where the school I work at is located.



7,000 miles later...

A little over 24 hours in Shanghai and I woke up from the last of a series of jet lag induced naps hungry. Aside from granola bars I’d packed in my suitcase, the last thing I’d eaten was some sort of odd omelet on my flight in.


After I’d checked in to my hotel the previous day, it was dark out and I didn’t feel like wandering the streets looking for food. The next day I’d lost all motivation to even want to leave my hotel room, but housekeeping opened my door (despite the “Do not disturb” sign) and then followed it up with a phone call a few hours later wondering when they would be able to clean the room.

So, forced out I had two goals: Find and ATM and find food.

Was I looking for dumplings? Pork Bun? Stir fried Rice?

No. I was looking for the most shameful, horrifying thing a person who just flew 7,000 miles from America could: McDonalds. (I justified it by telling myself I was tired! Cranky! Tired! Sad! And I just couldn’t muster the will to walk into a restaurant where I didn’t know the language).

As I was walking past storefront Chinese restaurants selling combos of dumplings and noodles and walk up windows offering fried, crispy items, I kept thinking, “All I have to do is open the door and point, they’ll know what I mean.” But instead, I continued scanning the distance for the familiar golden arches, dodging cars and motorbikes in the street.

But I was worried. I thought, “What if someone sees me going in? What will the locals think? That I’m not trying? That I’m some sort of sad American eating McDonalds in Shanghai by herself.” They could pay me to sit in the McDonalds like a mascot, some sort of sad nouveau Ronald McDonald.

Worse, I thought, what would experienced expats think of me? That I can’t even pull myself together enough to point to a plate of rice in a Chinese restaurant where – if I’d even attempted to go in – I’d probably find that they spoke at least enough English for me to order.

In the end, I never found a McDonalds. I’d walked on for awhile, it was cold and had started to rain so I decided to turn around and head back to the hotel.

Home is where the Starbucks is.

And that’s where I found a Starbucks. So, a little more than a day spent in Shanghai and I’d finally eaten – a Mocha and a warmed up chicken wrap that cost me the outrageous price of nearly 60 RMB or about $9 USD.

{It’s worth (worth it to me) noting that since the McDonalds near-incident my jet lag subsided and I’ve been able to navigate my way to authentic Chinese foods}

Modern carrier pigeon

This is Kim.

Kim's a friend, former co-worker at The Voice and a travel companion.

Until I figure out how to navigate China's firewall -- which blocks sites like Blogger, Facebook and Twitter -- she's going to be updating for me.

I'll e-mail her posts/photos and she'll update for me from Michigan. It seems a little backwards but still slightly more efficient than carrier pigeon. 

{And while we're on the subject of China, I leave bright and early on Friday (this Friday, two days from today) and I still haven't completely packed or picked up any books for the long flight!}