It was raining, a heavy down-pour, as our bus cut through the narrow congestion of the Shanghai city streets. There seemed to be an hour of stop and go traffic. Out of the window we watched a river of water run along side the bus. At some points it looked s if it may wash us away.
In the street men and women wore cheap plastic rain parkas and rode mopeds and bicycles. On the buildings, I recognized brand names, such as the large Sony billboard, or KFC, or a picture or Jackie Chen and Yao Ming's face next to a Visa card. Most of the signs at this point are written in Chinese block letters. Our bus dodges the on-coming traffic and plows through the large dollops of rain.
On man, I'm not sure if he works for the bus company or he school, sits on the massive stack of luggage and hovers just above our head. Two hours later I just want to get off this bus and collapse in our hotel. We have been traveling for twenty-four hours now.
Finally we are off the bus and into the hotel. It is nicer than I guessed with large chandeliers, marble, and the big classic vases that you see in movies.
There are thin trees that have been trained to cross-hatch their trunks into each other. We quickly find our room. It has a great view overlooking a canal.
