22nd April 2010

After breakfast and a bit of faffing about, we decided Shanghai was calling. Luckily, the Metro was just a short stroll away. Once we’d mastered the mysterious art of the ticket machine (which, it must be said, made more sense than the average British parking meter), we hopped aboard a packed but impressively clean and punctual train.

The journey to Central Avenue took about thirty minutes, weaving through deep concrete canyons flanked by endless rows of look-alike tower blocks, like someone had copy-pasted the same building 500 times and hoped nobody would notice.

From Central Avenue, tourist map in hand, we navigated our way to The Bund, a glorious mile-long waterfront promenade along the Huangpu River. Despite the low cloud obscuring the tops of the skyscrapers (the city was wearing its fluffy grey hat), the riverside park was genuinely lovely. We sat on a low wall beside what must be the world’s dinkiest lighthouse, shared a pear, and watched barges bustle by until the sun broke through the clouds like an enthusiastic stage light.

Unexpectedly, we stumbled across the ‘Sightseeing Tunnel’, a 646.7-metre psychedelic journey under the river that can only be described as part Bond villain lair, part fairground ride. We zipped beneath the Huangpu in our tiny space pod of a cab while wild light displays swirled around us. Quite trippy, really. When we emerged, the sun made an appearance, and the temperature was climbing rapidly. Layers were shed like snake skins.

We had surfaced on Nanjing Road, China’s glitzy answer to Oxford Street, only longer, busier, and with a slightly higher chance of being offered a knock-off Rolex. After a pit stop for refreshments (essential hydration for haggling), we began walking the famed 5.5km stretch. Supposedly, you can buy anything here. I remain unconvinced; it’s no Hong Kong for bargains, and the street food doesn’t hold a candle to Bangkok’s. Still, a great place to soak up the chaos.

Thankfully, a Tourist Train trundled by, rescuing our aching feet from the sizzling pavements. We gratefully clambered aboard and slowly crept along the avenue like a pensioners’ parade float. At the far end, we rewarded ourselves with iced tea followed by a cheeky hot chocolate at Starbucks. Yes, yes, we know, globalisation and all that, but air conditioning is a powerful motivator.

Refreshed and recharged, we had a pleasant wander through The People’s Park, once a racetrack, now a shady haven of card games, backgammon, and camera-happy tourists. The trees offered a welcome escape from the heat, and we spent a good while people-watching and snapping photos.

By 4 pm, we decided to make our way back to the hotel via the Metro. Several connections later, and only one wrong turn, which we feel deserves a round of applause, we were back in Pudong just after 5 pm. It had apparently rained all day there. Classic Shanghai. A city so big it can host multiple weather systems at once.

At the hotel, we heard rumours of a Virgin flight finally leaving with passengers. Spirits lifted, until we found out it had been turned around mid-air and was now back in Shanghai. Virgin confirmed this and assured us we still had a return date of 5th May. Ah well, at least we’ve got clean socks and dumplings to get us through.

Dinner that evening was in a different Pudong restaurant; my choice was fiery enough to melt enamel, while Sue sensibly opted for a far gentler Japanese dish. When we emerged, the heavens had opened. We legged it back to the Ibis like two soggy scuba divers.

The night ended, as so many do, with incomprehensible Chinese television and a good book. As sleep crept in, we both agreed it had been a thoroughly splendid day.