23rd April 2010

As usual, I was up before Sue had so much as blinked an eyelid. After breakfasting solo, I trotted off to the Crowne Plaza for my daily fix of the Shanghai Times and a satisfying go at the crossword (I’ll admit to a bit of guessing). I returned to the Ibis to find Sue now awake and polishing off her breakfast, as if she hadn’t just spent the last hour in peaceful slumber while I battled 9-across.

The evening before, we’d made plans with a friendly couple from Newcastle to ride the legendary Maglev train, Shanghai’s high-speed magnetic marvel that whooshes you to the airport just for fun (or if you’re incredibly late for a flight). We all met in the hotel foyer and hopped aboard the shuttle bus, which conveniently passed the gleaming Expo site, a vast, shiny wonderland of architectural show-offs.

From there, a short taxi ride brought us to the Maglev station, where we purchased our tickets, just £5 for a brush with the future. As we joined the rapidly lengthening queue, we caught our first proper glimpse of the train. It looked less like a train and more like an aircraft had misplaced its wings and decided to run on magnets instead. Sleek, white, and ridiculously cool.

Boarding was even more surreal. The interior echoed a plane cabin: twin seats, a narrow aisle, and a general sense that drinks trolleys might appear at any moment. We settled in. And then… take-off? No, departure. Though honestly, it was hard to tell. The acceleration was so smooth, you only realised you were moving because the world outside suddenly went from still to blur. The digital speed counter above our heads clicked rapidly upwards, first double digits, then triple, and then suddenly we were doing a terrifyingly brilliant 431 kph. At that speed, blinking feels like you’re missing half the view (not that your eyes could keep up). What normally takes over an hour by conventional train took us eight minutes. Eight!

As we stepped off, wide-eyed and slightly giddy, we all agreed: Why on Earth can’t we do this in Britain? But of course, that would involve working ticket machines and trains that run on time, and that’s clearly science fiction.

From the airport station, we took another stroll to the Virgin Office in search of news. The bulletin board of stranded travellers hadn’t changed much. Some passengers were making their escape via the US, with hopes of bouncing back to Europe from there, but most remained firmly grounded, literally and figuratively. Camping in the terminal was a popular (if not particularly comfortable) strategy.

Satisfied that nothing had changed since yesterday, we rejoined the slower, more contemplative Metro and made our way to the Old Town, before catching the No.64 bus into the heart of it. We spent a lovely few hours weaving through busy alleys, popping in and out of shops, people-watching, and chatting with fellow cruise ship escapees who, like us, were marooned in Shanghai’s urban sprawl. Sue picked up a gift for Sarah, and we lunched in a KFC, because nothing says “ancient Chinese culture” quite like a bucket of crispy chicken.

After retracing our route and catching the No.64 back, we returned to the Ibis and arranged a 5:15 am taxi to try our luck at the airport as standby hopefuls. But later that evening, tales began to circulate of guests ringing Virgin and getting themselves onto earlier flights. After weighing the odds, we cancelled our taxi, deciding instead to ring Virgin in the morning rather than risk abandoning our room only to spend hours (or days) curled up on cold concourse tiles with nothing but a vending machine and broken dreams for company.

We spent the rest of the evening swapping travel tales with other guests, sharing snacks, stories, and survival tips. Despite the uncertainty, spirits remained high. Eventually, we called it a night and headed to bed, still technically stranded, but comfortably so.