Without Incident Last Night

Walking up Beijing Road back in Shanghai, once again.  It’s thick and muggy out.  I’d been in France for two weeks in at least three different climates: the southeast, the south west and in the capital and it was never “muggy” this July.  Nor were there any floods, nor any strikes or attacks.  There was one evening we arrived at the Eiffel Tower to find it closed.  “Dad, you said it would be open!”  We found out later that some post Euro-cup soccer defeat had engendered a boisterous crowd, which shut down the monument.

But tonight it’s muggy.  I’ve just flown from Paris to Istanbul and then on to Shanghai.  Istanbul airport and Turkish Air had recently been attacked as well.  I’d thought about that, while I was there, sampling a half a dozen different olives, in the Star Alliance lounge.  But me and all the other people passed through without incident last night. 

And tonight I’m tired and as usual, all alone here in Shanghai.  I have a lot to do tomorrow and a lot to get ready before then.  But I tried to listen to wind in my mind as I walked over to this familiar restaurant this evening.  After three meals of Turkish Airlines food, which was pretty good, mind you, I am now ready for a bit of Shanghai food.

I tried to enjoy the odd juxtaposition of night in Paris, with a night looking out at Istanbul with a muggy night of Shanghai alleyways.  None of them are mine.  But this is the one, undeniably, that is closest to home.  The drunken yelling in this place, the boss berating one of the staff, asking her to count off the three ways she was wrong, my old traditional urge to yell out something smart and knowing it is always smarter far, to stay silent.  Well adjusted, back along the Huang Pu.