Black Lit Flourescent Expat Men in droves

Dear Reader,

We had a card for a great Italian restaurant we decided to go to last night (Saturday) with our friends. After about fifteen minutes we came to the address where we found remnants of the sign for the restaurant behind scaffolding. The restaurant was no more.

Our friends had a Shanghainese restaurant in mind, one they liked but hardly ventured that far out of Gubei to visit.

The place was in a hotel down an alley near the ever-present wrecking balls, and the food was fairly good. After eating, we went to the going-away party of an expat couple that my friend had known since her arrival in China five or six years ago. I am going to avoid naming the club/restaurant. I'd been there once to try an alternative to Moon River for a Western burger and sandwich styled menu, despite good press, their food was "mamahuhu" which means "so-so." Not compelling enough to return, but not bad. It's in an area of bars and restaurants that relocated from Maoming Road several years ago because of a late-night decibel problem.

We climbed up the narrow and steep winding staircase, not uncommon in Shanghai buildings, to the third or fourth floor to a private room and an expanding party.

I realized after forty-five minutes I was having to shout to speak to my friend D., sitting next to me. It wasn't a loud party, but the acoustics here in public places are often HORRIFIC. I was getting a sore throat from what might have been a quiet conversations. Simultaneously, my friends and Mr. F. were ready to leave. We opened the door from the private party room to descend a staircase, I heard music, it sounded canned but I asked Mr. F., "Is this a live band?" The cover of a Z.Z. Top song, it was a copy band. "They're Filipino" - he'd been down earlier for a cigarette.

What I wasn't prepared for, was that to reach the door I moved through a four to six row deep crowd of grey haired white men watching the band, a drove of big t-shirts, long shorts with closely cropped grey hair. They were illuminated by the flourescence of "black" lighting.

What was that about? I didn't see a lot of women, but Mr. F. asked with dismay, "Didn't you see the 'trolling' women?" I don't know how to explain it. This was not a multi-cultural or multi-age crowd. I don't like to say the men were "all white and middle-aged" but I would guess there were few Chinese or other nationalities; I could be wrong but they gave off an Australian or European vibe, less American. They cite only 11% of the expats being Americans here. These distinctions can sometimes be subtle, a manner of dress or carriage, and I could be off, but sometimes I'm right. It was so homogenious that it was unnerving.

My friend with more years here told me, "Last year, it (the crowd at the bar) could have been a young 20 something crowd, it all depends who's here." That wasn't a very satisfying explanation. To get through the crowd to the door, I must have walked through five or six rows of white grey-haired men in t-shirts and shorts. What "club" did they belong to? Who are they? No insight on that one.