I woke up this morning at about 7am. More, I was awake for most of the night, and finally decided to get out of bed. It was pointless trying to sleep.

I ordered breakfast in the room since 1) I have no idea what currency I need here and the hotel is quite happy to take my US dollar. It’s very likely I’m getting robbed. And 2) I don’t know what people here eat for breakfast. I had a strong urge for pancakes, and I doubt I would have found an IHOP.

After eating, I took a shower, changed back into the clothes I’ve been wearing literally for the last two and a half days, and hit the streets. I found a bank and changed a thousand dollars into RMB (local currency) and inquired about bank accounts. The teller (in broken english) told me that his bank didn’t offer quite what I was looking for and that I should look into international banks, namely Swiss.

I got a mobile phone about an hour later. It’s once of the ones that you can take to other countries and get local prices just by switching out it’s little internal card. I decided that this would be handy in case I needed to leave the country and wanted to stay in touch with people I’d already met here.

I at lunch at a small street shack run by an older chinese man who, naturally, didn’t speak english. I sat for over ten minutes at the little bar that protruded out into the street, pointing at pictures in the menu and laughing with the man at my completely failing attempts to communicate. He finally smiled, waved the menu away, and made me a noodle dish that I’d never seen before. It was excellent. That with tea came out to a little over three dollars. I think I’ve found lunch for the next month or so.

I hailed a cab, and told the driver that I needed a tailer. He, smiled, nodded, and we took over into the insanely crowded streets of Shanghai. I have never seen more people trying to use a single road at the same time. Bicycles, cars, even horses created about fifteen lanes out of the four that were painted.
The cabbie brought me to a small store displaying a number of exquisite suits in the front window. I paid and thanked the cabbie, and pointed at the time on my phone and said “two hours.” He smiled, nodded, and took off. I wondered if he’d understood what I’d meant.

The owner of the shop was an american. He’d worked in the united states for forty years before going back to home in Shanghai. He served in the second world war in infantry and played trumpet in the army band. I told him why I’d run away from home and why I was in Shanghai. He looked at me for a good long moment before responding. I thought he was going to call the police on me.

“Good move. Let me know if you need any help.”

I guess good does exist in the world.