A smog‑softened river cruise on the Huangpu, a frantic half‑hour on Nanjing Road, a missing Kiwi, and a long evening waiting to hear whether the homeward‑bound travellers made it onto a flight.
Shanghai at leisure.
Today, we had the morning at leisure in Shanghai before heading out on a cruise along the Huangpu River to see the city skyline from the water. Afterwards, we made a brief stop on Nanjing Road for some retail therapy.
Huangpu River Cruise.
Our coach took us to the dock, where we waited before boarding the boat. As soon as we were on board, several of us headed straight to the top deck, only to discover that sitting up there required an extra fee. We paid for it and were given a table where we could sit in the sun and enjoy the view.
The river was enormous, and we passed countless ships carrying all sorts of cargo. We cruised past both the old and the new parts of Shanghai as our guide pointed out various landmarks. Unfortunately, the smog once again obscured the tops of many of the skyscrapers.
When we disembarked, I took a group photo beside the ship, everyone included except, of course, me.
After the cruise, we took a short walk along the riverfront. We watched the locals stroll along the promenade while the English tourists watched them. Being nosey is a universal trait. Soon after, we rejoined the coach and headed to Nanjing Road.
Nanjing Road.
We were dropped at one end of the pedestrianised Nanjing Road shopping district, with just 30 minutes to shop. The group scattered in different directions, and I ducked into the shop nearest the coach drop‑off point. I quickly bought what I needed and returned to wait.
Outside, I found our guide, who told me the plane scheduled to take more than half the group to Beijing for their onward flight home had been delayed. They would miss their connection. She would have to spend the next few hours on the phone trying to rearrange flights for the England‑bound travellers.
I waited for the rest of our group to return, but it soon became clear that one person was missing. Ewen had last been seen browsing the shops with others but had since vanished. We were now 30 minutes late departing. A search party was dispatched to check the restrooms. John even got down on his hands and knees to look under every cubicle door, hoping to spot Ewen’s feet.
The search party returned empty‑handed. An hour after our scheduled departure, our tour representative received a call from the hotel, Ewen was there. He’d got lost and taken a taxi back.
A Long Evening of Waiting.
By the time we reached the hotel, it was apparent there would be no flight for the homeward‑bound group. The plane they were meant to catch, coming from Australia, hadn’t even left Australia. Those of us staying behind said our goodbyes and formed a line outside to wave them off to the airport.
That evening, the remaining few of us had dinner in the hotel restaurant. Afterwards, we gathered in the bar and lobby for a drink. As people drifted off to bed, Tracy and I stayed behind, waiting for Branwen, our guide, to return so we could hear whether our friends had managed to get away.
By about 00:30, we gave up and headed to our rooms. We’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out if they’d made it onto a flight.
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