Once again, we bundled ourselves up in Kate's car for a trip downtown. This time, the traffic was snarled on the elevated highway. Poor Ryan. Not-quit-two-year-olds the world over object to traffic jams, and Ryan was no exception, especially since his mom was driving and could not comfort him. As we neared our destination, though, Kate found some time in the "stop" portion of the stop-and-go traffic to give Ryan her full attention, and he calmed right now. He's a great kid, and it was the only time all week he was anything but perfectly genial.
As Kelly and I had the day before, our whole family executed a perfect dump and run at the roadside so that Kate could find parking while we explored the Jing'an Temple:
This Buddhist temple takes up most of a city block, is surrounded by typically modern office buildings, and houses a variety of shops in its outer walls. Like so much else in Shanghai, the temple was freshly spruced up for the coming Expo.
The temple is not a mere tourist curiosity. It is a functioning house of worship; a service of some kind took place in one of the many altar rooms while we were there, while other visitors lit incense sticks or prayed to innumerable Buddhas.
Across the street from the temple is a very pretty park, with manicured gardens and an elegant waterside restaurant.
The park contains remnants of ramparts that once guarded the temple. Plaques in the park also describe various artifacts that used to be kept there, until they were destroyed during the cultural revolution. The destruction of priceless pieces of Chinese history is stated dispassionately, but the bland explanation only accentuates the needless tragedy of the cultural purges.
We walked from the park to the business district where the U.S. Consulate's visa office is located. Amid high-end department stores plastered with building-sized billboards for expensive European cars, the visa office is hidden away, nearly unmarked, about halfway up an office tower (which has a multi-story department store in its lower floors, complete with a Mercedes-Benz display). We were given a quick tour of the small office, which has a dozen or so portals through which diplomatic officers interview and process Chinese nationals who wish to obtain visas to visit the U.S. The diplomatic corps interviews a staggering number of people each day, yet still manages to flag and investigate numerous people who should not receive visas. There is also a small set of windows for U.S. citizens who need assistance. Still, unless you knew what you were looking for, you would have absolutely no idea that the U.S. Consulate was in the building.
We had lunch at the Crystal Jade, another fabulous restaurant where I had perhaps the best sweet and sour pork I will ever taste. Along with more delectable xiao long bao, of course.
Leaving Greg to his post at work and Kate to take her kids home, we found our way to the subway and went back to the People's Park to go to the Shanghai Museum.
The Museum is across the street from the Municipal Building, which was the most overt presence of the ruling Communist Party we encountered in the remarkably free-wheeling Shanghai.
Numerous red Chinese flags flew in front of the imposing building, and it was guarded by two young soldiers wielding rifles. None of it appeared to be particularly ceremonial.
I became a little more acquainted with the state authorities than I wanted when we went through security at the museum. As we approached the x-ray machine, a young soldier in an ill-fitting army uniformed became very agitated as I approached. He felt no need to attempt to communicate with me in English (for which I do not fault him), but he clearly had a problem with something I was carrying in my backpack. As it turns out, we had two water bottles in the exterior pockets of the backpack. I was already concerned that they would be a problem, but not for the correct reasons, as it turns out. Bringing water into the museum was not the problem. I was ready to dispose of the water bottles in the trash as we entered, which only upset the solder and another security guard even more. What bothered them was that while one of the bottles was well-labeled and had obviously been purchased in town, the other was a standard clear water bottle that unfortunately no longer had a label attached. After a few anxious moments of pantomiming, I realized that the security detail wanted me to drink from the unmarked bottle, to prove that it was, in fact, just water. Once I did so, they immediately lowered the alert level back down to Defcon 5 and turned their attention to the next visitors. (Although I initially thought the security stations in the subways were a joke, I was forced to drink from the unmarked bottle again that evening when we headed home from the museum.)
The Museum was not large, but had many galleries of Chinese art from various eras. We saw pottery from every dynasty, traditional calligraphic artistry, and clothing worn by the many ethnic minorities throughout China. We could have seen coins and other exhibits, but instead we spent significant time at a visiting exhibition of the Uffizi Gallery of Florence, Italy (yes, we viewed European art in a Chinese museum). It was a thrill to see paintings by the true masters of the Renaissance, including Botticelli (The Adoration of the Maji), Titian and Tintoretto. Kelly was in the middle of a project on Botticelli, so the opportunity to see this art first hand was a real treat.
After a stop at one of the ubiquitous Haagen-Dazs vendors and a subway/taxi trip home (we were pros by now), another successful day was in the books. We were just a little sad, though, knowing that it was our last trip into the city before the end of our vacation.
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