Cities Have Left

Off to the right is a bus full of Shanghai commuters, packed in, heading home.  I’ve long taken for granted that I can hop in a cab and any hour and have someone drive me around.  Cabs are one thing that has remained cheap in China, over the years.  Spare a thought side for the cab drivers.  These cities have left them behind.  

A Gotham like quality is waxing in Shanghai tonight.  Riding along under the overpass on Yanan East Road.  Off in the distance, across the Huangpu, impossibly tall buildings cast their shadows. Going to meet a friend for dinner.  It’s dusk and the day is almost gone.  It wasn’t much of a day.  I don’t believe I will miss it.   A stoic might ask: “and what if it were your last?”

We’ve got crap-ass Shanghai talk radio on the air.  The cab driver probably knows these personalities rather well.  “Oh it’s 6:30PM.  Time for Hu and Du.” I ask and he also has opinions of this music that the team have cutting in and out of the broadcast. 

He no doubt has opinions about this young twenty-something team.  I guess I should be grateful they are speaking Mandarin and not Shanghaihua.  I guess I should be grateful that these people are older than, say, nineteen.  They aren’t yelling or laughing but merely talking.

“Crosstown Traffic” I’ve texted my friend.  That’ll be the cause of it.

And now, later, after taking a call, in the hall, listening to someone in Connecticut talk while I stared at the Yaozu paintings on the wall, I’m ordering a bowl of friend noodles from a vendor in the street. Elaborate process.  Tasty.   To be eaten at home, rather than the back of this last cab for the night.