Empty Pockets

I made it to Shanghai.  But not without my first set of curve balls. I realized on my second layover at the San Francisco airport that I had left my bank cards at home.  After an hour on the phone, I managed to have them sent to my brother.  They are supposed to arrive here a week from Monday, at which point I'll be alone in Thailand.  I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. 

At Shanghai's Pudong airport, I was greeted by Fabrice who, true to character, was holding a makeshift sign that said "Mercier."  He led me to a cab. There I found a white plastic bag with two oversized bottled beers on the back seat.  When in Rome...  On second thought, I doubt that's a cultural thing.

We spent the first two nights exploring the local food and nightlife.  I haven't seen anything terribly shocking yet but there's definitely a different feel. It appears that traffic lights are merely loose guidelines here which makes for an exciting cab ride.  And with all the silent, lightless, electric scooters zipping around, l feel like I'm surrounded by ninjas.  They seriously appear out of nowhere at night.  Sadly enough though, the most foreign feeling I get is having empty pockets. It's crazy how attached we get to our phones.  And I don't have a wallet since I have no money or cards, and there's no need for identification around town.  I find myself checking my pockets easily a few times an hour.  It puts a smile on my face every time though because I'm reminded of why I left.  It's really quite nice to just be, and it forces you to pay more attention to your surroundings.  Makes me realize how much life just passed me by when I was glued to those things.