A deceptively beautiful and humbling welcome.

A mid-September sunset shows the colors of Shanghai like never before. 

Having arrived back in Shanghai in mid-September, after a long summer in Michigan and various other parts of the states, I was greeted by the most beautiful sunset of any I've seen in Shanghai. Periwinkle, lavender, magenta, and vermillion steamed from a molten epicenter of cadmium yellow and gold (even the finely attuned iPhone eye couldn't improve upon this).

In a word the skies were awesome.

The unfortunate and toxic reality is, that without the dangerous particulates suspended in mid-air this gorgeous animation doesn't happen.

As if unexpectedly entering the realm of drifting medusae while snorkeling. It's easy to be carried away by the intense colors meant to serve warning as to what belies the poor soul ignorantly invading the mesmerizing choreography of lappets. In this case, simply breathing during mildly, strenuous exertion is enough to do some damage according the environmental air quality reports.

The truths of Shanghai are starting to emerge for me. After spending the first year here as a tourist on extended holiday the veneer is starting to wear thin. As I told Kris, upon my return, this maybe the year I see Shanghai for what it is. However, being the perpetual optimist, I promised to keep an eye on the beautiful side as we gasp like golden carp out of water.

Within a few days my optimism was rewarded by the aftermath of a typhoon reaching the shores of Shanghai. On successive days the clouds spun in from the east they seemed to ride upon the rays of setting suns accompanied by the chorus from some Mozartian opera relegating the skyline to a humble silhouette.

Typhoon clouds envelop a Shanghai sunset.

The last of the typhoon clouds float past a Shanghai sunset.

 

© Karl Shaffer 2012

After much introspection I beg to differ.

As reported by @ http://www.poppaganda.net/

I recently crossed paths with a cynical young westerner on the Bund. Without a word spoken his cynicism fell upon me like a the stench of an open sewer in old Hongkou.

It was his brand new black tee shirt pictured above.

Being one to curiously try the shoe on if it seems there is a remote possibility of it fitting (and me extracting perhaps a salsa or two from the soles), I introspectively wondered if my indulgences were truly my own in the vast barren wasteland that is the blogosphere.

All too eager to give in to the misdirected affront, I tucked the thought into my subconscious to address it another day when the sun wasn't shining and the air not so pristine. (Context is everything when it comes to introspection.)

Soon a few days passed and I received an email from a Parisienne reporter with Metropole Television in France wanting to investigate the sources for my Emperor Zillah entry. It seems extreme Sino-Franco commerce piqued their interest and I all too flattered was more than happy to send along any information I could. Which brings me back to the dark black tee shirt.

Digging through the well managed, delusional mess of my subconscious, visions of the smugster wearing the shirt emerged (never mind that I might have been that wise ass thirty years ago) and I had my answer.

"Speak for yourself pal. I have six readers who regularly ask after new content and a high flying seventh who will make Mad Man in Shanghai a truly international source soon to rival HuffPo."

The only advice I have for the uninspired twit – be original, save the fifty bucks and get off your ass and write.

Which is why after a six month hiatus I am again writing.

© Karl Shaffer 2012