(should have just said vitamin C since flu was the operative word) he immediately dispatched the valet and housekeeping staff to question me on how I felt. When he mentioned doctor I only imagined myself in a scene similar to Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later where the guy wakes up after being in a coma and finds himself in some ransacked hospital. I can’t be quarantined for being neurotic plus I had reservations at Shintori that night!
It’s been two years since I was in Shanghai and my, how it has grown to becoming the land of plenty. Lux joints are popping up all over the place. The heirs who because of the one child policy in China have wholly inherited their father’s Pudong boom funds are spending at a rate that may shame Arabs ( a friend says that the wait for Ferraris take eight months or so because of the demand). Yet it still remains a place that is friendly to the peso.
In Europe a can of soda can run for a couple Euros, which makes it close to being a sort of commitment like buying a couch for most Pinoy budgets. Some places can be ridiculously expensive and overrated such as M on the Bund, the supposed must go to resto in the city and its evil sister Glamour Bar. First of all I hate expat bars because they make me feel like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa. The music always sucks, the prices are high, there’s like always some kind of fight and most of the time if you’re not blond or seemingly rich you don’t get a table. When I was there a cabaret singer who was seemingly on glue was singing and dancing sloppily on top of the tables while she was patting her crotch. The funniest thing is that they tag it as "the bar for grownups". Yikes. It’s Hong Kong cousin kick its ass any day!
Now if you’re serious about doing the must go to route Cloud 9 at the Grand Hyatt is probably up there. Quite an interesting journey to get to the bar
as you have to take three elevators up since it’s that high up. As you enter the bar you feel like you are at the Hellboy headquarters as it intimidates
with its heavy wood and steel beams. Not a place to get drunk in as getting to your table is like strolling around a labyrinth. Again the place hates money and charges meanly for drinks that have a hint of alcohol. The view, however, is something to see, maybe you can just drink water or something.
A good place to go to for some serious swill is The Door which is far off the cosmopolitan area (which makes it a cool thing) and is simply stunning. I called it Chinois Jo-Liza (the antique dealer in Manila). Service was impeccable and I got a room that made me feel like I was hiding out in an attic drinking champagne. A progressive Chinese group was playing, it oddly sounded like Enya. Face is cool if you ignore the rude expats who can’t hold their liquor and ask you how much you are. It’s a mansion that boasts a courtyard and opium beds to get decadently sloshed in. Oddly there was no champagne. But it’s easy to get bored there, a club called Park 97 becomes a good idea when you’re seeing double and you refuse to go home. I’m sure it’s one of those default tourist clubs but it was fun nonetheless. There were two rooms where one played chill house and another garbage music that actually sounds sweet when you’re totally gone. I saw two guys in the garbage room banging their heads with manic intensity, I mean I’ve seen crazy people and they definitely fit the bill. A friend who is a local there told me they took shaking head pills and it’s supposed to make them shake their heads like woodpeckers on speed and many die because they snap their necks. Simply bizarre why one would take doll to make them look like dashboard toys gone mad.
I was going Ancient Roman in the city. I was a slave to gluttony; it was go for broke time. Now the aforementioned Shintori, which was the subject of my shallow thoughts, is something that you should really dread missing. It’s owned by the same folks as People which is a popular bar in the city and is noted for its kick ass decor (imagine this, you look for a secret button to enter and the moment you press it a wall opens and leads you to the bar). To truly know if a place is chic I make it my rule to base my judgment on how fight the toilets are. Totally Alice in Wonderland! The knobs were lodged on the opposite side of the door and you’re supposed to push the other knobless side to get in, once you’re in it’s pitch black and when you lock the door the bathroom is suddenly beautifully illuminated. Definitely idiot unfriendly. The best thing about the place despite its dandy features is that it has an unpretentious vibe and drinks are way reasonable.
OK, I have to stop talking about bars, back to Shintori. Zen done well, it looks like a good dream when you’re having one of the best Japanese meals in your life in a warehouse. Again astoundingly despite its fabness it was reasonably priced. Service was so unique they served your mixed sashimi one by one as the sushi dude randomly sliced out what he felt like giving you. I ordered foie gras (I know stupid in a Japanese restaurant) and was scandalized by its size. It wasn’t liver as my friend said; it’s a gall bladder. Nevertheless I was delighted to know it was still indeed my much lusted liver and I was now impressed by how a Japanese restaurant can serve foie gras better than the French (well, OK some).
Other places to try is Yong Foo Elite, the former British consulate that looks like a palace. It actually reminded me of the China Club of David Tang in Hong Kong, that being a posh Paris apartment version and this being the villa in Provence. As highly photogenic as the place is they don’t allow pictures to be taken. They were probably waiting for the day Jennifer Lopez would grace their restaurant and in the oft chance that she does drop by they will be ready in shielding her from the paparazzi. Again to my immense delight, the food was as delicious as the place. They serve traditional sort ofFrenchified Shanghainese, a trend I noticed in many hip Asian restos in the city. Imagine foie gras, caviar and stir fry something like that. Glad to know that there was no confusion in this fusion. Now for real deal Chinese cuisine I was hinted by Ricky Dee that Ben Chan’s favorite restaurant there was Yuan Yuan. If it’s good enough for Ben then it would surely be a treat for me. I ordered the pork with brown sauce, the most popular dish there, and eggs with crab fat. Ye Shanghai is another thumbs up for its simple Chinese dishes cooked extraordinarily. My friend says that the frogs were the best there but I demurred. I mean I can’t even look at a frog let alone eat it. I’m a Libra, a slave to beauty and cursed to be shallow, frog eating was not part of my destiny.
Other lux joints to try is T8, Bali Laguna and Colours, fun and cushy joints for your pampered tushy. The Jean Georges did not quite appeal to me just because I just felt it was too bizarre to have on in Shanghai. Some things are just simply meant to be left in New York, like Ducasse’s disappointing Spoon in Hong Kong.
Another part of my slobfest was trying out all the spas in the city. The best surprisingly was this day spa called Dragonfly. It was very chic and did a good job in making the most out of a small treatment space. The massage was terrific and it cost like $15 for a full body massage. The supposed grand dame of spas which was the Banyan Tree at the swanky Shanghai Westin which struck me as a shopping mall for some reason because of all the escalators in the lobby and the sheer size of it. First of all, there was no lounge area you had to wait in literally outside the spa. Now that the stress had built up on my shoulder from the bitchy receptionist that refused to acknowledge my presence, I was led to a lush treatment area complete with mini-boudoir.
I was hypnotized by the massage, but the facial put my face on fire. I guess it was the ginseng that they patted on which smelled delicious but felt otherwise. One thing about Shanghai is the language barrier problem. Totally lick my stockings (remember Lost in Translation?). When I asked my aesthetician to wash off the mask she just looked at me and massaged it in more. Delilah talaga. I sprinted out of the treatment room like a mad woman and saved my face from prickly doom. I looked like a cactus for a couple of days.
The Evian spa at Three on the Bund is supposedly chic and modern, but after my Banyan disaster I decided to get off and just resume my pampering at my familiar haunts back home.
Well, there I was a couple pounds fatter and my wallet visibly thinner. Really can’t wait to come back again and maybe next time I will succumb to the bizarre Jean Georges in Shanghai. This gastronomical trips are the best but don’t mix in shopping because you won’t fit in those clothes by the time you get home.