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The best laid plans often go awry but that's how to learn in Shanghai
By Sean Maguire |
April 30, 2009, Thursday
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A COUPLE of Saturdays ago I celebrated the fourth anniversary of my arrival in Shanghai by getting hopelessly lost in the mountains that surround the picturesque Nanbeihu.
This is a delightful town located between Shanghai and Hangzhou, set amidst a glittering array of small lakes, their blue, glassy surfaces shimmering under the gentle caresses of idle spring breezes and nestling snugly at the foot of a small range of gently sloping hills.
I found myself off track in these thickly wooded forests, a result of my participation in a running club jaunt. As with my arrival in China some four years earlier, I was confident that I knew the lie of the land sufficiently well to avoid the obvious pitfalls.
In both cases, I had made what I thought were proper preparations and so I looked forward both to the big trip to Shanghai and the more modest one to the forests of eastern China, each with a sense of informed optimism tempered with a respect for the new and the unfamiliar.
I had reconnoitered the forest trail with a more experienced running companion some weeks before the big day and I was confident that, armed with a coarse-grained mental picture of our intended route, all would be well. Any gaps in my memory would be quickly filled in once I had the trail before me once again.
Unfortunately, upon my return it was with some alarm that I realized that there had been significant growth in the forest since our previous visit and there was little I recognized that might offer the comfort of familiarity. The route I had prepared in my mind's eye fragmented and dissolved as I eyed the unwelcoming forest before me.
Within 20 minutes or so of my departure from the starting line I had inadvertently veered from our planned route and become enmeshed in an dense tangle of thicket and thorn - cruel, nay brutal, razor-wire like undergrowth waiting to strip the skin from the shins of the traveler misguided enough to stray from the beaten path.
Having staggered forth exhausted from the interminable undergrowth, it was with some horror that I surveyed the myriad nicks and superficial lacerations that now adorned my legs and torso. It was as if I had spent the night smeared in fish oil and tied up in an old sack with a dozen hungry cats: there I was dusty, thorn-whipped and bedraggled.
To make matters worse while stumbling, tripping and generally lurching through this sea of thorns I had lost my cell phone. The entire episode was beginning to shape up like a cheap B-movie scenario: intrepid runner lost in China forest, separated from companions, cell phone lost in the undergrowth, runner forced to eat his own running shoes in order to survive, etc, etc.
Eventually, I reached my destination in a more or less ad hoc fashion. My preparation had taken me so far - proving to be a necessary condition, but not a sufficient one. Resourcefulness, flexibility, being able to adapt to changing circumstances - these are equally important when finding oneself off the beaten track.
My companion was a seasoned runner who relied upon experience gained from years of careering through the forests of China to extract himself from calamity. I, on the other hand, with considerably fewer miles under my belt, was given sufficient opportunity to make my own mistakes - an opportunity that I didn't waste, much to the amusement of my companions.
As with my arrival in Shanghai some four years before, my run at Nanbeihu brought home to me the realization that while proper preparation is to be desired at all times, it works best when it allows one to think on one's feet.
Life in Shanghai, with all its oddities and difficulties, will often surprise - and indeed should surprise. It is a place where anything is possible, but also a great place to learn.
(The author is counsel of AllBright Law Offices in Shanghai. The views are his own. His e-mail: sbmaguire@allbrightlaw.com.)
This is a delightful town located between Shanghai and Hangzhou, set amidst a glittering array of small lakes, their blue, glassy surfaces shimmering under the gentle caresses of idle spring breezes and nestling snugly at the foot of a small range of gently sloping hills.
I found myself off track in these thickly wooded forests, a result of my participation in a running club jaunt. As with my arrival in China some four years earlier, I was confident that I knew the lie of the land sufficiently well to avoid the obvious pitfalls.
In both cases, I had made what I thought were proper preparations and so I looked forward both to the big trip to Shanghai and the more modest one to the forests of eastern China, each with a sense of informed optimism tempered with a respect for the new and the unfamiliar.
I had reconnoitered the forest trail with a more experienced running companion some weeks before the big day and I was confident that, armed with a coarse-grained mental picture of our intended route, all would be well. Any gaps in my memory would be quickly filled in once I had the trail before me once again.
Unfortunately, upon my return it was with some alarm that I realized that there had been significant growth in the forest since our previous visit and there was little I recognized that might offer the comfort of familiarity. The route I had prepared in my mind's eye fragmented and dissolved as I eyed the unwelcoming forest before me.
Within 20 minutes or so of my departure from the starting line I had inadvertently veered from our planned route and become enmeshed in an dense tangle of thicket and thorn - cruel, nay brutal, razor-wire like undergrowth waiting to strip the skin from the shins of the traveler misguided enough to stray from the beaten path.
Having staggered forth exhausted from the interminable undergrowth, it was with some horror that I surveyed the myriad nicks and superficial lacerations that now adorned my legs and torso. It was as if I had spent the night smeared in fish oil and tied up in an old sack with a dozen hungry cats: there I was dusty, thorn-whipped and bedraggled.
To make matters worse while stumbling, tripping and generally lurching through this sea of thorns I had lost my cell phone. The entire episode was beginning to shape up like a cheap B-movie scenario: intrepid runner lost in China forest, separated from companions, cell phone lost in the undergrowth, runner forced to eat his own running shoes in order to survive, etc, etc.
Eventually, I reached my destination in a more or less ad hoc fashion. My preparation had taken me so far - proving to be a necessary condition, but not a sufficient one. Resourcefulness, flexibility, being able to adapt to changing circumstances - these are equally important when finding oneself off the beaten track.
My companion was a seasoned runner who relied upon experience gained from years of careering through the forests of China to extract himself from calamity. I, on the other hand, with considerably fewer miles under my belt, was given sufficient opportunity to make my own mistakes - an opportunity that I didn't waste, much to the amusement of my companions.
As with my arrival in Shanghai some four years before, my run at Nanbeihu brought home to me the realization that while proper preparation is to be desired at all times, it works best when it allows one to think on one's feet.
Life in Shanghai, with all its oddities and difficulties, will often surprise - and indeed should surprise. It is a place where anything is possible, but also a great place to learn.
(The author is counsel of AllBright Law Offices in Shanghai. The views are his own. His e-mail: sbmaguire@allbrightlaw.com.)
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