Shanghai: Day One

Shanghai’s Pudong International Airport was my point of entry into China. The airport was modern and huge. I must have walked at least a kilometer from the gate to Passport Control and the baggage claim area. After traveling for over 24 hours, I was relieved to see a man in the crowd holding an OAT sign. 

 

It was already 6pm, twilight, when I got my first look at Shanghai from the van whisking me from the airport to my hotel. The first thing I noticed during the nearly hour-long drive was the never-ending urban landscape of high-rise towers seeming to sprout out of the earth. Densely packed clusters of these modern 20-30 story structures went on for miles and miles. Most looked to be residential, but as we neared the Huangpu River that splits Shanghai in two, many had the names of major corporations blazing out in colored lights. 

 

After crossing the Huangpu River, we drove through the older part of the city. My destination, the Jin Jiang Hotel, was a European-style 13-story building completed in 1929. It was located on Mao Ming Road in the upscale French Concession neighborhood. The hotel was lovely and my room quite spacious and well-appointed. In the bathroom, there a fancy toilet with a control panel. I fell asleep in the wide bed as soon as I figured out how to turn off all the lights in the room, which wasn’t easy in my exhausted state. 

 

I had arrived in Shanghai a day early, before the official start of my OAT tour. After working my way through the breakfast buffet (always a challenge on the first morning), I spent this “extra” day at the Shanghai Museum East, located in the new Pudong area of the city. The museum, which opened in 2024, wasn’t at all crowded on this weekday although I noticed a few school groups. 

 

The Shanghai Museum East served as a great introduction to my China adventure because it brought me through thousands of years of Chinese history through its stunning collections of artifacts. The informative wall text and labels in English as well as Chinese made it possible to see bronzes, ceramics, jade items, coins, calligraphy, and paintings in their historical context.

 

I couldn’t stop taking photos as I made my way through the various galleries. I’ve included a selection of photos from each of the major exhibition areas that I visited. There was an extensive collection of ceramics, covering a period that ranged from Neolithic times up to the early 20^th century. 

 

One of the earliest pieces, a white earthenware pot with a carved pattern, was from the Late Shang dynasty (13^thcentury-early 11^th century BCE). 

 

Lead-glazed pottery, such as this jar of green glazed earthenware, was popular during the Han dynasty (206BCE-220CE).  

There were significant breakthroughs in firing technology between 581 and 960. This resulted in the production of polychrome glazed pottery. An example from the Tang dynasty (618-907) is this horse. 

 

Further advances in ceramics, made during subsequent dynasties, led to the production of celadon pottery in which a green or blue-gray glaze is applied to stoneware or porcelain. This celadon dish with an appliqué of clouds and a dragon dates back to the Yuan dynasty (1271-1368).

How would you like to sleep on this ceramic pillow made during the Northern Song dynasty (960-1127)?  

 

I was more familiar with the type of pottery produced by the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) and the Qing dynasty (1644-1912). These two pieces date from the Ming era.

One of my favorite pieces in the museum was this lovely bowl produced during the early years of the Qing dynasty.

The museum has an equally impressive collection of bronzes. Several of the pieces were wine vessels and musical instruments. This bronze bell is over 2500 years old while the bronze drum dates back to the Western Han dynasty (206 BCE- 8 CE). 

 

Many of the wine vessels were in the shape of animals, such as the ox-shaped wine vessel from the late Spring and Autumn period (early 6^th century BCE-late 5^th century BCE), the fish-shaped wine vessel from the Western Han dynasty, and the elephant-shaped wine vessel from the year 1837 (Qing dynasty). 

I was eager to see the museum’s collection of jade artifacts. I’m not at all knowledgeable about jade and I learned that jade carving in China dates back to the Neolithic period. The carving on this early piece, which is around 5000 years old, shows a human-like deity, an animal, and flying birds at each corner.

The sword pommel with the comma-spiral pattern was produced during the Western Han dynasty (206 BCE – 8 CE).

 

Jade carving had become much more technically advanced by the Song dynasty (960-1279), as you can see in this plaque with cranes-flying-in-clouds design.

The Ming dynasty (1368-1644) was also a time of great achievement in jade carving, as seen in the belt plaque with dragon-flying-through-peonies design.

 

Jade was increasingly combined with gemstones and precious metals. This can be seen in the scarf pendant from the Ming dynasty and the tray-form case from the Qing dynasty.

One particularly interesting exhibit, the CeraMIX Gallery, used ceramics to explore the trade history and cross-cultural communication between China and other cultures. It began with the land and maritime Silk Roads that brought foreigners from diverse areas into China, especially during the Sui and Tang dynasties (581-907). 

 

These pottery figures of a camel with saddlebags date back to that period.

The figures shown below portray people who are obviously non-Han Chinese judging from their features and their attire. They are most likely from East Africa, Southeast Asia, and Central Asia.

Overseas trade flourished during the Song and Yuan dynasties (960-1368). The Chinese produced a wide range of pottery, especially porcelain, for export. During the Ming and Qing dynasties, Chinese ceramics reached Europe and the Americas, with Chinese artisans adapting their techniques, styles, and decorative patterns to meet market demands. Note the similarity between the Ming-era blue and white ceramic ewer and the 12^th-13^th century brass ewer from Khurasan in Central Asia.

Likewise, this Ming-era ceramic candlestick recalls a 15^th century Ottoman brass candlestick.

Initially, blue-and-white ware dominated the porcelain trade but gradually the share of overglaze decorated porcelain (which featured more colors) increased. Below are two examples from the 18^th century (Qing dynasty).

 

Ideas flowed back and forth between China and its trading partners, leading to innovation in both directions. As Europe acquired ceramics from China, European artisans began to adopt Chinese techniques and designs. In the photo below, you can see a Qing dynasty Chinese-made dish at the top and a pair of 18^th century Italian-made dishes that it inspired.

As an artist, I could have stayed longer at the museum. I’m always excited to see how people from different times and places have expressed their creativity. But after several hours at the museum – including lunch in their café – I’d reached saturation point. It was late afternoon, and using the Didi app (China’s version of Uber or Lyft) on my phone, I got a ride back to the hotel. 

 

By dinnertime, I was ready to go out again. Although it was dark, the temperature was still in the low 60s, i.e. quite comfortable. My tour leader, Tina, told me that Chinese people love to eat out and that there were plenty of restaurants within walking distance of the hotel. She took me to an unpretentious restaurant where I ordered a chicken dish and a green vegetable. Both were very tasty. However, I’d forgotten that the chicken wouldn’t be boneless but merely hacked into small pieces. Fortunately, my chopstick skills were up to the task.

 

When I finished eating, I was eager to explore the neighborhood. Tina assured me that it was perfectly safe to walk around in the vicinity of the hotel. What I found was a lively, bustling commercial area. Stores would be open until 10pm, and eating establishments even later. The sidewalks were packed with people of all ages, but especially young people, and the streets were humming with cars, motor scooters, and bicycles. I was pleased to see that cars and pedestrians observed the traffic signals. (The ubiquitous motor scooters were another story.)

And that was how I spent my first day in China. By 9pm (9am back home in Virginia), I fell into bed, eagerly anticipating the official start of our OAT tour the next morning.  

Time to Explore China

Given my childhood and my family history, it was inevitable that I would go to China someday. I’m just surprised that it took me so many years to get there. China has been part of my world for as long as I can remember. In the house where I grew up on Long Island, we had several pieces of Chinese art hanging on the walls of the house where I grew up. These were beautiful pieces of silk embroidery that had been given to my father when he lived in China in the late 1940s.

 

As a 21-year old civil engineering graduate from Georgia Tech, Seymour had gone into the U.S. Army’s Corps of Engineers in 1943, in the middle of World War 2. 

Assigned to the CBI (China-Burma-India) theater, he worked on building a new road through the Himalayas, in order to provide an overland supply route from India into southwestern China. This new road, called the Ledo (later renamed Stilwell) Road, replaced the Burma Road, which the Japanese had cut off in 1942. 

The Ledo Road crossed northern Myanmar.

WW2 US Army Ledo Road shoulder sleeve insignia patch

Once the war was over, he was sent to work with the Chinese Nationalist Army in China’s Yunnan province. Based in the city of Kunming, he instructed the Chinese military in the use of heavy construction equipment to build roads and air strips. (See Yunnan province in yellow on the map of China today.)

My father is in the middle of the front row.

WW2 Chinese Nationalist Army chest identification badge

Kunming is the capital of Yunnan province.

 

I recall my father speaking often of his experiences in China. It was clear that he admired the Chinese people and treasured the friendships he made with Chinese officers. In fact, the pieces of art work hanging on our walls were farewell gifts he’d received from members of the Chinese military when China’s civil war forced him to leave the country at the end of 1946. There's a message to him in Chinese from one of the generals. 

My father had a lifelong love of China that included a fondness for Chinese food. There were plenty of Cantonese restaurants in the New York area when I was growing up in the 1950s and 60s. Nearly every Sunday evening, our family went out to a local Chinese restaurant for dinner. Some of our favorite dishes were barbecued spare ribs, wonton soup, egg rolls, egg foo young, lo mein, shrimp with lobster sauce, fried rice, and subgum chicken chow mein. Thanks to my father, I learned to use chopsticks at a very early age. 

 

On my mother’s side of the family, I have a different kind of China connection. Around the time of the Russian Revolution, my Ashkenazi Jewish maternal grandmother fled from her home in Lithuania, which was then part of the Russian Empire. With World War 1 raging in Europe, she wasn’t able to sail across the Atlantic to reach the United States. Along with a few family members, she traveled by train across Siberia to the city of Harbin, in the extreme northeast of China. Harbin was in the area called Manchuria (green on the map of China today). There, they became part of the community established other Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe. Eventually my grandmother was able to make her way to the U.S. by sailing across the Pacific. 

Harbin was a major city in the area of Manchuria.

I’ve recently wondered why I didn’t travel to China sooner. After all, since I started traveling back in my college years, I’d traveled to countless other countries in several continents. Part of the reason may be that until late 2017, when I took my first OAT trip, all of my overseas travel had been done independently. When I traveled either solo or with my husband, I would be in charge of making all the arrangements: arranging flights, choosing hotels and restaurants, familiarizing myself with maps, figuring out how to use public transportation, etc. Traveling to China must have crossed my mind but I was frankly intimidated by the thought of traveling independently in a vast country where the language was so unfamiliar. 

 

Fortunately, following the pandemic, Overseas Adventure Travel resumed their China trips and I immediately signed up for a 21-day adventure in the fall of 2026. Although the itinerary didn’t include Kunming or Harbin, I’d get to see Shanghai, Guilin, Chengdu, Xi’an, and Beijing. And I wouldn’t have to worry about my inability to read or speak Chinese. In any case, I did my usual pre-trip preparation, reading up on 5000-plus years of Chinese history. This allowed me to create a timeline for reference.   

And then, finally, I was ready. When the day of my departure arrived, I wasn't looking forward to the 24-hour journey (2 flights) to get from home to Shanghai but I was definitely looking forward to exploring China at last!

The Journey Home

After five and half wonderful weeks in Italy, it was time to go home. It should have been simple. OAT had made my flight arrangements. I had a reservation to fly back from Florence to Washington Dulles Airport with a connection at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. As it turned out, it was anything but. 

 

A couple of days before my scheduled departure date, I realized that something very strange was going on with my reservation. I received an email from Air France confirming that I’d cancelled my flight to Washington. Well, I certainly hadn't done that. When I couldn't get through to Air France on the phone, I called OAT (it was midnight in Boston) and they were able to get me back on the flight. That seemed to solve the problem, or so I thought. 

 

But about 24 hours before my departure, when I tried to check in on the Air France app, I faced another problem. According to the app, I’d already checked in for the flight. And the name of the passenger on my reservation wasn’t me! It was a person with the same last name but a different first name. I already knew I couldn’t get in touch with Air France over the phone so my only hope was to straighten out this confusion at the airport in Florence. 

 

The flight from Florence was scheduled to leave at 10am. I got to the airport at 6:30am and waited in line about 45 minutes before a couple of Air France agents showed up. When it was my turn, I handed over my passport with a smile and as much confidence as I could muster. The agent smiled back, but several seconds later, she looked up at me in confusion. Didn't you fly to Nairobi? she asked. I tried my best to explain that Air France had made an error, somehow putting another passenger’s information into my reservation. 

 

Of course, she had to start making phone calls to supervisors to find out what to do. After half an hour or so, they came up with a partial solution. They would check my luggage all the way through to Washington Dulles. However, they would only give me a boarding pass for the flight to Paris. Once I got to Charles de Gaulle airport, I’d have to go to the Air France ticket counter, explain the situation all over again and hope they would give me a boarding pass for the flight to Washington. 

 

Well, that was better than nothing. Once I landed in Paris, I rushed off the plane and followed the signs for passengers with connecting flights. The flight from Paris to Washington was supposed to leave in a little less than two hours. Right away, I ran into a problem. In order to access the transit area, I had to scan the boarding pass for my connecting flight, which is exactly what I didn’t have. Thank goodness there was an airport official at the turnstile who believed my garbled explanation and let me pass through. 

 

I checked the departures board for the gate for the flight to Washington and ran in that direction. Along the way, I wasn’t surprised to encounter multiple turnstiles where I was required to scan my nonexistent boarding pass again. Somehow, I talked my way through each one, and finally reached the gate. 

Almost completely out of breath, I presented myself to the Air France agent and gasped out what I hoped was a coherent explanation of my situation. Perhaps I looked and sounded so pathetic that she took pity on me. In any case, she gave me a boarding pass for the flight. Clutching it tightly, I collapsed into a chair in the waiting area until it was time to board. Finally, I could relax. 

 

The flight itself was uneventful. I was looking forward to getting home in the evening and sleeping in my own bed. Since I had Global Entry, I was pretty certain that the only possible delay might be waiting for my luggage. Sure enough, it took only a few seconds for the Global Entry machine to recognize me. Happy that my journey home was almost over, I then walked up to the Passport Control officer in the glass booth and handed over my passport. 

 

- Where have been? he asked. 

- Italy, I said with a weary smile. 

- Grimly, he asked, Where else? 

- Just Italy, I replied, somewhat shocked at the question. 

 

Looking at me suspiciously, he asked, Where have you been in Africa? 

 

Oh, no. I realized what was happening. This was about the Ebola outbreak. Passengers coming from Africa were subject to special screening. Some weren’t being allowed to enter the country. Some had to be quarantined. And the person whose information was mixed up with mine had flown to or from Nairobi. 

 

- Wait here, he commanded. 

 

A few minutes later, a tall figure completely enclosed in hazmat gear strode up to the booth and led me to a CDC (Center for Disease Control) interview area. Exhausted beyond belief, I explained for what seemed like the 1000^th time that I hadn’t been to Africa. Thank goodness he understood that an Air France agent had made an error. At last, I was free to leave the airport and I could put all thoughts of the past 24 hours behind me. 

 

But not quite.

 

Less than 48 hours after I set foot on U.S. soil, a text message from the U.S. Public Health Service appeared on my phone.

 

It said: 

US Public Health: Welcome!

You are receiving this message because you recently arrived in the US from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) or Uganda, where there is an Ebola outbreak, or from South Sudan, a neighboring country which is geographically considered at risk for Ebola.

Please watch for these Ebola symptoms until 21 days AFTER you left DRC, Uganda, or South Sudan: fever, chills, headache, muscle aches, rash, chest pain, sore throat, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, or unexplained bleeding or bruising (late stage of illness).

  

Now the U.S. government believed I’d just arrived from Africa! Would this never end? Desperate to get my name out of whatever database they were using, I spent many hours over the next few days trying to get through to a human being at the U.S. Public Health Service, the Department of Health and Human Services, and the CDC. It was a complete waste of time, of course, and I eventually gave up. 

 

A few weeks later, I received another text from the Public Health Service telling me that my 21 days of monitoring for signs of Ebola were over. 

 

I even spent some time trying to track down the individual whose name appeared as the passenger on my reservation. (I’m not naming her here since it wasn’t her fault that this fiasco occurred.) After a little searching, I identified her profile on LinkedIn. She is an American who works in the field of public health and previously lived in Africa. She never responded to the message I sent her inquiring if she had run into any difficulty with Air France flights recently. 

 

The last thing I did was to email Air France’s Data Protection Officer asking them to correct the erroneous information in their database. A few weeks after I sent the email, I received a reply that noted the high volume of requests they received and informed me that it would be a while before they could address my concerns. That was several weeks ago. I’m still waiting.  

A Final Day in Italy

Our final day in Italy arrived on a Sunday, May 24. The plan was to travel out in the Chianti countryside for a cooking lesson and lunch. First, though, since this was Memorial Day weekend in the U.S., Lodo arranged for us to make a stop at the American Cemetery just south of Florence. The peaceful 70-acre site is the final resting place of about 4400 members of the United States military who lost their lives in Italy between June 1944 and May 1945. 

It was very moving to walk among the rows of headstones, where Italian scouts had placed both Italian and American flags. Taps and the Star Spangled Banner rang out as part of a commemorative service that coincided with our visit. 

 

By late morning, we were on our way to the Villa Il Leccio in the Chianti countryside. Located between Florence to the north and Siena to the south, Chianti is a wine-producing region in the heart of Tuscany. Chianti Classico, whose symbol is the black rooster (gallo nero), is produced here from the Sangiovese grape under very strict controls. The weather was ideal as we made our way through the gently rolling green hills dotted with vineyards, olive groves, and medieval villages. 

Villa Il Leccio is an 18^th century estate that is owned and operated as an agriturismo by Cristina and Mauro. A member of the family has owned the villa for nine generations. The property includes 500 olive trees, a medieval stone tower, and a house that is 1000 years old. Before they could move in, the couple spent eight years fixing up the abandoned house. Cristina, a chef, does catering and gives cooking lessons here throughout the year. 

Before we got to work in the kitchen, we spent some time in the sunny yard, sipping wine and looking out over the countryside. 

Then we went inside, donned aprons, and began preparing lunch under Cristina’s direction. I was a tomato and basil chopper. 

Other members of my group cut up vegetables, and seasoned the pork. 

 

The menu included tomato basil bruschetta, fresh orecchiette pasta with vegetables, roast pork, green salad, rustic bread, and, of course Chianti wine. 

Cristina was in charge of making the dessert, a simple but luscious blend of mascarpone cheese, sugar, and whole milk. After the ingredients are blended with an electric mixer, the dessert is refrigerated until serving time. It has the consistency of soft gelato and tastes divine. (In case you’re tempted to make this yourself, she gave us the proportions: 500 grams mascarpone, 100 grams sugar, 200 milliliters whole milk.) 

 

With full tummies, we set off for the drive back to Montecatini. Along the way, I looked longingly at the Tuscan countryside, wondering whether I’d ever find myself in this beautiful part of Italy again.

Actually, after 5 ½ weeks in Italy, I couldn’t help wondering how it was possible for such a small country to have not only so many treasures but such a variety of treasures. 

 

In the remaining hours of the day, I finished packing, attended our farewell dinner, and exchanged contact information with my fellow travelers. I tried once again to check in for the next day’s 10am Air France flight from Florence – and once again there was a problem with the passenger name on the reservation and the notification that I’d already checked in. My only hope was to show up as early as possible at the airport tomorrow and try to untangle a very complicated situation.