sofasurfers

Walking to my host’s house in Shanghai, I had my first warning of
Shanghai’s noise nightmare. It was just a humble fast food outlet –
y’know, just one of those single-fronted, fluoro-lit
only-go-in-drunken-desperation numbers. Outside was a young, suited
man who was holding a MICROPHONE (for he was SHOUTING LOUDLY but I’ll
spare you the caps lock): “Yum, yum, come and get it! Fast food! Slow
death! Come and get it!” (Or something like that).
In China, even the low-rent fast-food joints have to make a noise to
make money. As one foreign student told me, “Unless you shout in
China, no one cares about you.” So the free-market frenzy of Shanghai
is right off the scale of noise pollution: “Miss! MISS! You come my
shop! Just lookin!” I’ll only come inside if you promise to remain
silent, I said… But no: “Miss! Miss! Come my shop! Chopstick! Jade!
Cucci [sic] bag!” My Italian host compared the Bund, the riverside
promenade and tourist trap numero uno, to Alien 2, where all the
aliens shoot out of their hiding places, screaming and yelling. Even
the house cat cries at night when he doesn’t get his way….
You know what this means? It’s time to come home – and so I am… But first….