An Introduction to Bars

This week I began to try and introduce myself to Shanghai's classic establishment, the bar. I started on Wednesday (seriously.) with a visit to my corner Irish Pub (seriously.) Oscar's. I chose this night because it was open mic night and there were free cocktails for the ladies. Being a lady, I thought to try a free cocktail. So I went in, after cutting a path through the cigarette smoke with a chisel, took a seat in a comfy wicker chair with a good view of the band. First, all the bands were actually quite good, and that judgment was made before imbibing anything, and the cocktail only mediocre. However, after nursing my drink for a few songs, a waiter came over bearing a bailey's and cream and placed it in front of me, telling me that someone at the bar had sent it my way, just like in the movies.

I looked around and nobody disclosed themselves as the sender of my drink, but I thought it was the African guy playing the hand drum who might have sent it as he gave me a smile when I walked in the door. Note that he was probably twice my age, but he seemed nice enough, so I took a seat at the bar next to him when it opened up, at which point he made me put the drum between my legs and try to play along with the music. We ended up disagreeing about proper drum technique. I did everything he did, but lefty style. He told me that I couldn't do the main beat with my left hand, that it had to be my right hand, but as his French was better than his English and my French essentially nonexistent, I had to try and go completely against my instincts to lead with my right hand. Happy when the song was over and I could stop being under his scrutiny, I discovered that it was not he who sent me the drink.

Across the bar was a reasonably good-looking, somewhat scruffy guy who had sent me my drink. His hair was back in a ponytail (but short), and I would say that in terms of a scale between Pirate Steve and Captain Jack Sparrow, he was slightly on the Captain's side (sorry MS! You can still be the pirate queen ;) and so moved next to him to try and chat. Try being the operative word, as he was sitting right by the speakers. I learned that he is from London and either teaches or does something with computers, and that he sings heavy metal. Other than that the entire conversation was me more or less pretending I could hear. But he seemed nice enough.

Friday I was planning to go out with friends for a night on the town, but when they canceled on me I began to go home, then remembered one place I could always go to find people. So I looked up the address and told the cab driver where I wanted to go, and he drove, and drove, and then we passed the place without seeing it, and then we turned around and realized that it was hidden behind construction, but eventually I ended up at Chabad, walking in awkwardly as everyone was just about to sit down to eat. I sat with a bunch of frenchmen who were nice, made friends with some other people, ate well, went for a walk afterwards, got invited to a party at an organic farm, had some wine, it was nice.

Yesterday (Saturday), I went out to a bar called Mural which has salsa and other latin dancing on Saturday nights. So I got there early and had a chat with Giuseppe, a nice Italian guy who was way older than me (a theme, I know....) and I tried one of their on the house drinks, which was supposed to be something like a mojito, I think, but tasted almost identical to mouthwash. Anyway, Giuseppe turned out to be a really good dancer (way better than me!) and it was fun to dance with him, though I couldn't dance the whole night with him, sadly. Apparently yesterday was a Peruvian national holiday, so the bar was crowded and full of singing South Americans. Actually a pretty fun situation. So eventually this Chinese guy attached himself to me, asked me to Cha-cha, he did nothing but basic step, I was about to yawn myself to death, he and I chatted some, he has a really odd cha-cha, he sort of slips/locksteps across the floor, it is more ballet like than anything else, very odd, and he got my number (a fake) and introduced me to his Uighur friends (one of them was the bellydancer who performed during the band's breaks). He was a little odd, and it turned out later that he danced to every song as if it were a cha, no matter the beat, and so eventually I tried to avoid him a little, which was difficult, and lets just say I was pleased when he left (he asked if I wanted to join him and his friends for food afterwards, I declined). He had been wearing a Washington DC shirt he bought when he was there, it was one of those that looks a little like a kid drew it with a crayon and had the capitol building on it. That paired with athletic shorts proved that he was a guy with class. So it turned out that not many people at salsa night actually knew salsa, but it was enjoyable anyway.

Today I went out on a limb and sent Captain Jack a text message asking if he wanted to grab dinner with me. He wrote back saying he was sick and didn't really want to go out, etc, etc. So I went to dinner by myself, but to get most anywhere have to pass the corner pub. I peeked in the window, and who did I see sitting at the bar but he himself? :( <-- So not funny.

(btw, Schaffe in Mir just came up on my playlist, oh schmertz!)

A strong woman, I walked by to the restaurant around the corner which I had never tried. I followed some silent waitress in and picked a table, and she handed me a menu. This is unusual, I thought, usually the Chinese comes first and English second. And this is a flimsy selection for a restaurant like this. But I figured they just weren't that good and so ordered a standard, boring dish and sat and waited for it to arrive. It came, it was well-done, even if it was boring, and I ate it. When I was about 2/3 of the way through a couple came and sat down next to us. They were handed completely different menus. That were about five times as long, including having cheaper options and a much more interesting variety. Well, lets say I lost my appetite. I asked the waitress for a menu as she was collecting them from that table, and she was about to hand me a chinese one, but then realized her mistake and went back to get an English one. I asked her specifically for a Chinese one at that point and she looked at me with a little fear, like when the crazy talking man sits down next to you on the bus. The couple at the table had to repeat to her that I said Chinese edition before she came back and timidly handed me a menu. I looked through it to discover some dishes I would have appreciated ordering much more, folded the menu and placed it on the table.

So at this point I'm sitting there, looking like I want to order more. At first I'm too angry at the waitresses to even look at them, but eventually I wanted someone to come over and ask me if I wanted to order anything else. So I looked at waitresses as they passed by. I put my arm out along the top of the booth and tapped my fingers to signal my impatience as they passed by. I crossed my arms and looked at them, hoping one might feel so inclined to stop by and check up on me. I held the menu out, I put the menu open on the table, on my lap, I crossed the menu in my arms, I looked at it again, I turned my head, I looked at the waitress as she dealt with the two tables on either side of me, and eventually I raised my eyebrows after making contact with one of them. She looked at me confusedly, as if I had just been sitting around bored for the past twenty minutes rather than waiting for one of the people I was looking at to even take notice of me. (By the way, I think I scared the busboys. One of them almost mentioned to a waitress that maybe I wanted something, and one of them timidly filled my glass of water, like a lowly Lord trying to serve the angry lioness without her biting his head off)

But eventually after making contact with her, raising my eyebrows, nodding my head, and using my hand to motion her over, she came and stood silently sort of near my table. I was at a slight loss for words after that, but she took that as me meaning I summoned her over for no reason and so began to walk away, silently. Eventually I stammered out that I had been waiting twenty minutes for a waitress to come over and ask if I was just using that menu as a table decoration or to contemplate the meaning of life, and she continued to stand there silently. As well, I told her that I was embarrassed because she either thought that I wasn't intelligent enough to read Chinese characters or not cultured enough to enjoy real Chinese food, and hence she didn't even ask if I wanted a proper menu. I then just told her to get me the check, totally fuming, and she silently brought it back to me. I paid, and told her on the way out that there is the phrase "Is there anything else I can help you with?" and also explained that just because I'm a foreigner doesn't mean I'm stupid or need to be handled only from the other end of a twenty foot pole. Silently I stalked towards the door, and everyone who worked near the door smiled like they do at every other restaurant and told me they hope I'll come back.

No way in hell.

Yes, I was quite rude at the end, and I understand that maybe they can't read minds. I might have calmed down had someone apologized. Had someone realized that I was speaking Chinese with them since walking in the door. Had someone come over and treated me like a real human being. I've experienced discrimination in China before, but never anything like this. It has usually been positive discrimination, or discrimination until I began to speak Chinese. This time it didn't matter how many nice vocabulary words I used, and I threw in a few lovely flowers of poetry just to try and get some reaction, it didn't matter what I did. I probably could have stood on the table naked and they would have remained just as unwilling to communicate with me, unwilling to ask me what I might like, and just unpleasant. One thing I've always appreciated is how polite the Chinese are everywhere but on the roads (public transit included). I have had innumerable courteous experiences, but never have I been ignored in this manner. Never. Hundreds of meals in restaurants, and although sometimes service has been slow, they have never so entirely forgotten about me (at the least they come and ask if I want the bill to kindly suggest I get the hell out of there). It really left a sour taste in my mouth, and I just have the feeling that that was one of the most unpleasant experiences I've had in China. I have handled bad living conditions, I have handled people who don't understand me, but never people who won't understand me.

I know that it seems that I'm making mountains out of molehills, and that I probably wasn't being communicative enough, and maybe I'm hoping for too much, but that was not a cheap restaurant and in my entire time here I have never seen something like it. I remember I was close to just walking out of the place, and maybe I should have just done so. But I wanted to see what would happen, how bad it would be. Of course I've never walked out of a restaurant before either. Its odd to have that 'the worst' experience, and wonder at the same time if there aren't frustrated emotions coming out, or if this situation is unique to me in this restaurant, or if a different me would have brushed the same experience off as being just the way China is and dismissing it with a laugh. But at the same time I can't get it out of my head and feel like maybe I have a right to be angry about it, and maybe this is real discrimination. Of course, this is capitalism now, and I have as much right as anyone else to put my dollar where my mouth is: that restaurant will not see me or my money again.