The aim of this blog wasn't about me writing about work. This would explain the lack of posts I have made recently - my workplace is very demanding. And, due to other things, like keeping propriety information in-house, I'm not really going to ever talk about that stuff here. Unless something really cool happens (like potential work-trips to Hong Kong or Malaysia!)... he he he...
But, here's the low down on a normal morning commute in my life, Monday to Friday...
]]> Linda has nicknamed me 'The Dawdling Mass'. After deciding that the entire residents of Shanghai (and we suspect China) are the dawdling masses, I was none quite amused. This came about during the Golden Week Holiday that has just past - a whole 3 days (and 5 days if your employer allows it) devoted to the Labour movement. Reading this last sentence, it does seem like a minute win for the socialists/communists here - if your employer allows it... I wasn't keen on doing too much other than skulk around the apartment and catching up on sleep and watching DVDs. Linda however, was full of beans, and wanted to do stuff and things. A point of contention, but a nickname that is a great motivator I assure you.Back to my dialogue. Getting up at 7pm didn't really work, but neither has getting up at 6:30 or 6am. No matter what I try, I'm late for work. I'm usually late for most things, but hey if its on company time it does start to matter. So in trying to break the habits of a (seemingly) life time of university time-tabling, I've progressively been getting up earlier. Still, I seem to be leaving work at exactly the same time each morning. A time that coincides with the morning exercise routine of the high school across from our street. This might also be my subconscience's aversion to my work conflicting (albeit ineffectively) against my sense of duty
I've a 10-15 minute walk to the metro station at Jing' An Temple. Usually, I've got my iPod playing some tunes when I leave the apartment, get stared at by the same people in the elevator each morning, smile to the nice guard fellas on my way out of our apartment complex, and hit the street. Although I walk this street at least twice a day, it amazes me that I keep on finding another new thing or quirk that makes my morning walk more complete. Apart from gollies on the footpath and the occasional waft of stinky tofu, it is a pleasant walk down my street. One of the small pleasures is wondering about the potential name of each of the traffic controllers at every intersection that I come to. They remind me of the guys out of Chips - Eric Estrada style baby! But with bad teeth. Beyond that its full of people going about their morning routine, getting a quick bite before starting/continuing with work, opening their shops, or just being out and about.
Reaching the train-station, I head down to the platform and jump on the lead carriage heading towards my workplace in Pudong (at Zhangjiang Hi-Tech Park). Every odd morning or so, I keep on seeing the same Western girl at the platform. I don't think she's interested in chatting, considering she hides behind pylons and avoids eye contact. Its kinda strange here when you see another obvious foreigner. Do you give that knowing nod/wink/smile, or play it like "I'm here for my own experience so kindly f@##2k off". I reckon she's on the latter trip myself. Nonetheless, my 30 minute trip is usually uneventful, besides getting to know the peak-hour cram on the metro line quite well. Strangely, while most of the Shanghainese are quite willing to smash their bodies together to fit another commuter into the carriage, they don't seem too eager on getting closer to poor ol' me. It's great, room to move, and a nice non-crushed shirt at the end of the trip. Lovely! I really only have to put up with a favourite commuter habit of 'stare-at-the-foreigner' every now and then, so I play the 'look away-look back game' to see if they're on the ball. Most of the time I am firmly intent on reading the news & RSS feeds that I download each morning onto my iPod.
Once I arrive at Zhangjiang, its a quick 5 minute walk to the shuttle-bus area where my employer has a fleet of sometimes-reliable minibuses and PMV's that shift everyone off to our centre. In total, 50 minutes of commuter heaven. Just enough time to listen to an album, and not really notice the time going by.
Dull post wasn't it? That's my weekday mornings.
Egads! I'm turning into a salary-man!
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