Apologising for our tardiness (even though she had got there 20 minutes earlier than expected), we threw about the usual small talk questions. Barely into our conversational stride, and Nikki reached from under her wooden chair and placed a very bright Hermés shopping bag on the table. “This one’s for you and this one’s for you,” she said as she handed Lezil a Hermés flat box in the same bright orange as the shopping bag it came out of. And in my hands was a beige box with a reflective silver logo which read Burberry.

She motioned us to open the packaging. Lezil’s gift was out first – a beautiful light woollen pink shawl with a safari giraffe theme on it. Mine was a purple and grey cashmere scarf. Perfect items, matching our tastes in style and colours. The garments had a surprisingly high-quality finish to it. Now this being China, you don’t have to go far to see both terrible and exceptionally good copies of many of the top international clothing brands. Nikki must have found a great outlet which could match the real deal with remarkable likeness.

I thanked Nikki again for her kind gesture whilst I tried to place the scarf neatly back into its plastic cover. A piece of paper inside the bag was jamming the scarf from going in completely. I took the paper out to re-organise the scarf back in its plastic holder. I was about to throw the paper away when I noticed it was a receipt. And curiosity led me to the price. “How much?” I thought, bewildered. This was no fake. At the top was the fashion brand’s logo and address which clearly indicated it was directly from the Burberry store. I wasn’t sure if it was unintentionally left in there and so I declined from mentioning it.

Meanwhile, Lezil was busy draping her bright shawl around her, when I noticed that in her box also lay a receipt. Thank God for all those carrots I eat. What with my ability to see even the smallest thing from afar – I managed to catch how much her Hermés shawl had cost.

It was nearly three times the amount of my Burberry cashmere scarf. I was bursting to tell Lezil but I’d had to wait a few more minutes before I could divulge the true value of our gifts to her.

Shanghai, like a number of other Chinese cities, doesn’t hide its hunger for expensive brands. So much so that China has now taken over the US as the number one market in the world for luxury goods.

Even the shops themselves seem a cut above the rest with their eye-catching glittering gold and silver finishes. Those were definitely ones that I would go as far as peep from the outside. I never had an incline to go inside purely for the fact that even the most miniscule of accessory was out of my league.

And now, we were proud owners of two of the most expensive piece of fashion items that we personally have ever owned. Some of you may be scoffing at the tinge of naivety I am displaying here, but what can I say – I love my fashion, but I won’t spend a huge chunk of my savings on one sole item.

Nikki ended our rendezvous telling us she was off to the Apple store to buy a new iPad. We bid her farewell and I immediately grabbed the Hermés bag off Lezil. “I’m holding this!” I announced.

It was time to pay attention to our list of errands which needed seeing to. Almost like an obvious contradiction, we headed to Shanghai’s flagship C&A store on Huai Hai Road. Those of you in the UK may remember the clothing high street retailer before it closed its doors to the British market more than 10 years ago. Here in China, the Dutch fashion chain is going strong with eight new stores recently opened in cities like Harbin, Qingdao and Xi’an. Currently there are 47 stores on the mainland with the aim to have 120 opened by 2015. C&A may have died a death in the UK, but in China, the chain is alive and well.

In a similar bracket to H&M and Zara, it’s fashion’s answer to a relatively low-cost store like Primark which has yet to land in China. Hundreds of square metres of men’s, women’s and children’s clothing is spread over three floors whilst Euro-centric vocal dance music plays – just like any other global retailer of its kind.

It was the tail end of the sale season and they were literally giving away their end-of-line winter goodies to make way for the up-coming spring collection.

So there was I holding an overly loud orange Hermés bag as I rummaged in the bargain section. Moments later, a felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around thinking someone was going to ask me why I was in C&A when I can clearly afford to shop at more high-end stores. (OK, my imagination was milking it there a bit!) Yet, another surprise.

It was a student of mine, Daisy. And she just happened to be one of the managers at the main C&A store. I introduced her to Lezil. They hugged and Daisy said, “I love him…” pointing at me. Awkward. “I love him,” she stated again. Oh boy, was this going to be one of those lost in translation moments?

“He is a great teacher, he makes his classes fun,” she ended. Phew! That so could have been taken the wrong way. Seeing some of the items we were holding, Daisy pulled out her staff card and told us that she would give us her substantial staff discount on our purchases.

News of Beijing’s hazardous air pollution has made headlines around the world. Whilst Shanghai may not be hitting quite the same levels, a ‘hazardous’ warning has been in place for the last week with levels of PM2.5 averaging around 250 micrograms per cubic metre daily. (This measures the amount of particles in the air that can be harmful if breathed in.) The World Health Organisation places 25 micrograms as a safe benchmark.

So, needless to say we are way over the limit here in Shanghai. Even as I write this blog during my teaching break, the view from the 33rd floor staff room is of a dense hanging fog, but what actually is smog. According to the weather forecast, it’s a sunny day, but the sun is no where to be seen. Last summer, we had a run of 10 days of spectacularly clear skies with a blue so brilliant that everyone was busy posting photos online. Even at night, the moon and stars shone vividly – a rarity in Shanghai what with the haziness and glaring night lights.

Within a week of moving to Shanghai, my chest was closing up and my breathing wheezy. However, every time I made a trip outside of the city, my condition would normalise. The moment I was back in our downtown apartment, once again I was struggling to take a breath without sounding like I was auditioning for the role of Darth Vader minus the mask.

Months went by and I finally went to see a specialist and to my utter surprise I was diagnosed with asthma. I now have to use two asthma pumps and a humidifier to keep my airwaves open on a daily basis. A report by the World Bank listed 16 Chinese cities in their list of the Top 20 most polluted zones around the world. That can’t be good. Stricter pollution control is promised. And I, for one, look forward to ditching my breathing aids for good.

One thing I do have to be grateful for is that at least the worst of my asthmatic conditions only really flare up in the evening. I could not imagine having to teach a packed ‘English Corner’ session for 30 plus students (as I do every Friday evening) without having to gasp for air after the end of each sentence. My weekly sessions are lively affair where we gather to discuss any number of topics that I choose to present. Recently, we did one on the top news stories of 2012. Obama’s re-election, Gangnam Style and the spat of public shootings in the US all got a mention.

But, by far, the China/Japan dispute over a small group of islands in the East China Sea came out on top. Known as the Diaoyu Islands for the Chinese and the Senkaku Islands for the Japanese, both countries place their claim over the territory. It rather took me back as to how heated people got when students aired their opinions concerning the ongoing issue. At one point, people got so rallied up that I was sure that we were all going to sign our lives away and join The People’s Liberation Army – China’s military force.

All this reflected the general sentiments of China at large. Online blogs speak of anti-Japanese feelings and staged protests have taken place as both sides flex their naval force muscles with patrol ships surveying the waters surrounding the islands. Inside the metro, the on-train screens give you daily bulletins covering the islands ever-developing situation. Historians and political analysts voice their opinions. Newspapers keep the momentum going and I even came a across a local bakery which had made a large cake with the words ‘Diao Yu Islands Belong To China!’ Patriotism indeed rides high when a country’s territory, or claim of, is at stake. Here’s hoping to a peaceful resolution.

It’s sometimes easy to forget that you are in China when living in a city like Shanghai. So forward-thinking, progressive and where Western influences are obviously evident everywhere – it’s almost like a separate country in its own right. 

This is when I like to immerse myself into something more overtly Chinese and on today’s list was an afternoon of traditional lantern making.

Ru Wa Studio is a small arts workshop located in a Shanghai lane area known as Jing’an Villa. The low-rise European style housing area dates back to the early 1900s and has been somewhat swallowed up by the surrounding towering apartment blocks and glitzy shopping malls of nearby West Nanjing Road. But once you go past the gate entrance into the long lane itself, a small piece of Shanghai history has been lovingly maintained. The lane houses still retained their original red brick work giving a distinct look to the estate with a number of narrow pathways to the left and right.

Walking into the tiny courtyard entrance, we were immediately met by Lu Xiao Feng who runs the studio. A native from Sichuan province, he moved to Shanghai 17 years ago to study and has lived here ever since.

Unlike the north parts of China where houses have decent heating systems, here in Shanghai – we still rely on heating by blasting hot air from our air conditioners. And sitting at our workshop table inside, there was no difference to the outside temperature. It was decidedly cold. Rubbing my hands to keep warm, thankfully Lu Xiao read my signals by closing the wooden entrance doors and putting the AC on hot.

Like a Blue Peter presenter, he plonked two already-made lanterns in front of us as he rummaged out back to then reappear with a flask of hot water.

 He made us cups of steaming Chinese flower tea with sugar to help warm us up further. The small groundfloor studio was a splash of colours. Traditional kites, umbrellas and hand painted rugs adorned the walls. The studio counters had a variety of handmade toys like the giant Chinese yo yo known as a diabolo and stuffed folkloric Chinese animals.

Lu Xiao laid out two bundles of starting materials and began his introduction. There were long sticks of bamboo-like wood, toothpicks, glue, brushes, a sharp pin, scissors and some garden clippers. We proceed to measure up the initial points to create the hinging edges for the toothpicks to go into. We’ve done other types of workshops before from painting to food-making.

One thing I do not like is when the instructor is ‘too’ helpful and ends up doing the project for you. Lu Xiao couldn’t have been more opposite.

He patiently demonstrated each task and allowed us ample time to work through each stage, at times making mistakes (in my case sticking the long and short sticks incorrectly together) – and always keeping it light-hearted so we never felt burdensome. We measured, we snipped, we twisted, we glued and all the while we glanced at the two previously completed lanterns as a reference. 

Despite this being a private class just for Lezil and I, the workshop itself had a steady run of visitors – both local and international, some of whom dropped in for a curious look around. Others, in the case of the two Swiss foreigners, buying up over RMB 700 (£70) worth of souvenirs. Being the only person on duty, Lu Xiao juggled our class with the incoming customers which again added to the personalised feel of the whole operation.

Once the four basic frames had been stuck together, it was time to paste on the handmade paper. These off-white soft-to-the-touch sheets were made the traditional way using wood pulp, cotton and hemp giving those unmistakable cloth-like strands with a leniency towards letting light through. To decorate each sheet, we opted for cultural paper-cut stencils of multi-coloured Chinese birds. Each picture told a simple story of two love birds – a symbolism which both Lezil and I gravitated towards. 

It was exciting to see the lanterns take shape during the final steps. As the studio was somewhat cold and damp, we had to use a home hairdryer to speed up the glue-drying process to ensure that not only the stencils were firmly stuck on, but that each stick was wedged in tightly with the dried glue in place. Lu Xiao looked genuinely proud of his two lantern apprentices as he picked up each one, inspecting closely the angles and giving each one a good shake to make sure there were no loose bits. 

He disappeared into the room next door and brought out an extension lead with a single light bulb at the end. He motioned me to switch off all the studio lights as he plugged in the lead. Plunged into momentary darkness, the first lantern lit up the room.

For a moment it looked like we wouldn’t be able to attend our friend Nikki’s wedding. The four days leading up to the grand day, Lezil had been struck down with a strong chest and throat infection which made Marge Simpson sound like an angelic chorister.

Lezil had been asked to sing and we were literally pulling every concoction out of the book to try and bring on a speedy recovery. Dinner with some friends on New Year’s Eve was cancelled to maximise rest time and on that New Year’s Day morning, still she was sounding hoarse as we rehearsed in our apartment. 

This is where the support of good friends really makes or breaks a situation. Get-well texts came through from a number of people. Our Shanghainese mama, Miranda, dropped off a big bag of herbal remedies, a purple shawl and a beautiful dark mink fur coat she bought in Canada. Another friend, Camille, put her background in hair, beauty and well-being into action as she massaged Lezil and readied her by doing a fantastic job on her hair and make-up. Lezil looked every bit of a 1920s superstar during the height of the Shanghai jazz scene.

Swigging back a concentrated fresh lemon and honey mix to soothe her throat, it was late afternoon and time to head to the Hongqiao Gardens – a restaurant complex where the wedding was being held.

Patricia, Nikki’s MC and organiser, was waiting for us outside the entrance as our taxi pulled up. “Wow! Your coat is amazing, welcome to the wedding,” she greeted Lezil. This is where the artist manager-side of me kicked in as fired a number of questions at Patricia. I wanted to make sure that everything was in place so that my wife could enjoy her performance.

“So, the wedding will start at 6:18pm,” informed Patricia. Did I hear right? “6:18pm?” I asked her with a puzzled look. She went on to explain that the time reflects lucky Chinese numbers with the ‘six’ in Mandarin (liu) sounding like the word ‘fluid’ implying ease of business and the ‘eight’ (ba) connected with the word ‘prosper’. This sounds all good and well, but in reality, what wedding starts on time? I’ve attended my fair-share of big days, all of which started at varying degrees of lateness. The most patience-testing had to have been a lavish Nigerian wedding I went to in London (UK) which saw guests waiting over three hours until the bride finally appeared.

Whilst I doubted very much I’d be taking part in a West African money dance or eating some jollof rice, I already had in my mind a 7pm kick off. Inside, by some amazing coincidence the colour scheme was white and violet, matching Lezil’s deep purple ball gown. Nikki the bride and her groom Kong were, appropriately, the centre of attention as they welcomed their guests. It was like a red carpet arrival with poster-perfect airbrushed photos of the happy couple prominently displayed as people took turns to pose in the designated picture-taking area.

The evening was to start with the wedding ceremony followed by dinner. It was already 5:15pm as we glanced over the seating plan. It was clear that Lezil and I were the only two foreigners in attendance with our names being the only ones not in Chinese characters. Patricia showed us to our table. The hall was a medium sized, L-shaped room with a small stage at the bend of the ‘L’. By the stage stood a three-tiered cake which must have been over a metre tall. On the opposite end was a small champagne glass tower. We ran a quick microphone and track test before sitting.

I was very surprised to see practically all 130 guests already present, enjoying some drinks with still 30 minutes left to the start. The wedding was actually going to hit its intended bull’s eye timing. Lezil was busy downing warm water with lemon and Chinese green tea. Suddenly the Bridal Chorus played from a laptop out back and a line of indoor poppers were let off. I glanced at my mobile. Not a second late, it read “6:18pm”. This was some serious wedding precision. There were no religious elements involved. The short 20 minute ceremony started off with a Kong’s media company boss’ address.

A quick vocal warm up and Lezil was soon walking on stage as the audience applauded. Power ballads are overly popular in China and we thought we’d give them a classic – Vanessa William’s ‘Save The Best For Last’. As soon as the first chorus was sung, clapping had started in acknowledgment of Lezil’s masterful control of her notes and voice projection. It’s always a bit nerve-wracking for me to see my lovely wife up there but never for a moment did I doubt she’d be a hit. Petite, beautiful and clearly talented – she fits the perfect mould to an Asian perception of what a Pop singer should be like.

The next set of speeches had already started as we settled back in our chairs. Throughout the evening, the couple kept coming and going, each time the bride in a new outfit. She looked stunning in all of them, but it was her third and final one – a traditional red Qipao – that was the most eye-catching. To satisfy Nikki’s request, Lezil’s second performance was a cover of the Carpenter’s ‘On Top of The World’ which got the guests clapping along. 

In Western weddings, a highlight is the throwing of the bouquet. The same ideal was adopted but instead of lobbying it backwards over her head, the bride held the bouquet with eight strings (that lucky number again!) dangling below. Eight guests were invited on stage, each holding a string.