The Party Faithful

"Germany has declared war on Russia. Swimming in the afternoon." - diary entry of Franz Kafka, Aug 2, 1914.

It is one of those "please, I need a holiday somewhere, anywhere" holidays.

Stepping out of a Shanghai cab in the late afternoon sun, we are swarmed by beggars outside the grand colonial building. After being ushered in, we are joined by a bunch of beautiful people in the lift that gets us to the chicest establishment in town. War. Revolution. Reform. And some things never change.

So we clink glasses on the opulent terrace while watching the sun set over the river, and make rude, unelegant jokes that if the staff understood, would have had us chased out in a second. M & I. Somethings never change.

The city is like a beautiful woman who has seen better days, who smokes too much, and loves too deeply. Or perhaps smokes too deeply because she has loved too much . Who shimmies like only a true party girl can.

I thought I was pretty damn good at being chums with restaurant managers, but ah, I now am humbled. You know you have raised this to an art when, within a few months of your arrival, you haven't figured out where your nearest train station is, but know club managers so well you can book a table at a top bar. With a phone call. On a Saturday night. Some things never change.

"All you need in life are cigarettes and coffee," Eric told her, as the sun finally set, revealing a skyline in all her neon glory.

"No. Cigarettes, coffee and a dictator," said I.

Distilled to its core, all I need in life are books, coffee and wine. XO carrot cake would be nice too.