Multi-coloured strands of hair lay strewn across the boutique floor. At one end of the shop was a make-up artist readying a model with her final touches. Right opposite, a stylist was busy sculpting a fluorescent pink hair piece with razor-sharp angles followed by lashings of hair spray to keep the new style in place. These were the artistic preparations from Studio Ebony. The one-of-a-kind Afro Hair salon first open its doors in Shanghai last November and today was their first foray into a fashion event.

F.Y.E.S.T.A. (Forever Young Extravaganza of Style and Arts), now in its fourth showing, was set up by French entrepreneur Sylvie Wen who has a desire to provide Shanghai’s emerging artistic community a platform for showcasing a variety of concepts and designs.

Taking place at the pedestrian zone of Jiashan Market, the monthly event recently moved to Café Sambal, a Malaysian bar/restaurant, taking full advantage of the venue’s spacious rooftop terrace.

The place was buzzing as people socialised and meandered between stalls which included unique clothing wear and accessories and a couple of foodie tables - a scrumptious display of Brazilian hand-made chocolate balls (Effa’s Brazilian Treats) and food from the motherland (Eat Ethio).

That was our dinner right there. On our plates was a good helping of Minshet Abish Wot (beef stew) with Tikil Gomen (cabbage, carrot, potato stew) and Misir Wot (lentil stew) – all loving prepared and spiced by Ethiopian native Helina. Helping alongside her was Fatima (Morocco) who, between them, were doing a roaring trade and a couple of hours later had completely sold out.

Walking in between the different groups of moving people, you literally drifted past a different language being spoken each time. And, that international audience was about to feast its eyes on some of the outspoken Afro hair creations courtesy of Studio Ebony.

Founders Bryonie Richards and Camille Lindo (both Jamaican nationals) were frantically looking over the models and tidying up any loose ends just before the show was to begin. Even Lezil got in on the act by assisting with straightening some of the hair designs. We realised the hair used wasn’t 100% human hair so she had to be super careful with the flat iron’s heat setting and how long she tended to the hair strands without risking burning them.

There was certainly a lot of curiosity bouncing about as this was to be a first for an event in Shanghai – displaying African/Caribbean hairstyles by a Caribbean-owned salon. The models, too, were an international affair with countries like Gabon, the US, Antigua and China all represented. Each came with their style-design name which was as colourful as the hair pieces themselves: Rastaman Vibrations, Flower Power, Cleopatra’s Creation, Cocktail Beret, Ebony Dragon. Café Sambal’s main restaurant area was packed wall-to-wall with people who, in turn, created a kind of human catwalk passage for the models to parade through.

Dragging ourselves out of our apartment, we made our way to a downtown meeting point. We were headed to Shanghai’s Qingpu district (a far suburb) where a cluster of farms grew a variety of produce including its famed strawberries. There are a number of public bus routes that can take you there, but knowing that we would have been tired and the fact that going the public transport option would have taken longer, we paid the little extra to join a day tour. RMB 115 (£10) got us a return trip on a private bus, access to the farm for picking, a lunch and an afternoon visit to one of Shanghai’s historic water villages. Not bad.

The trip, in fact, was organised by a small private Chinese language school called SN Mandarin. Geared towards their staff and students, I had dropped them an email a week ago asking if we could tag along which they graciously accepted. We were about thirty people in total on that bus as we set off, west bound towards the outskirts of Shanghai.

Little over an hour later and the roads had become small tarmac country lanes with plenty of land used for growing veggies. One of the farm workers came out to meet us in her bright pink scooter to lead the bus to the right patch. We piled out, thankful to stretch our legs.

The rain had eased to a lingering drizzle which just made everything feel wet-to-the-touch. Walking about 10 minutes through the fields we finally arrived at the strawberry section. To keep them guarded against the cold, they were all sheltered in makeshift plastic greenhouses which did offer a welcome escape from the outside elements.

The farm owners enthusiastically handed us a basket each with a box inside for placing the strawberries in. There was an abundance of fruit everywhere and all pretty big sizes too. Our group leader, Bella, had told us that the farm prides itself on organic growing methods and said that we could literally pick the fruit and eat it straight.

Knowing my stomach sensitivity, I avoided the temptation to do so. This was actually the first time I had seen strawberry growing plants up close and it was fascinating to see the different stages of the fruit from a flower to a tiny little green cone-shape, to its changing white colour and then the eventually blood-red fruit at the end of its evolving process.

We must have spent a good 25 minutes bending over and gently snapping the fruit off its vine using our thumb nail. Once we had our boxes fairly filled up, outside the greenhouse were some scales where you had your fruit weighed.

Between Lezil and I, we harvested about 3.5 kilos of fresh strawberries which came to a bargain RMB 59 (£5.90) in total. With our boxes sealed up, we then followed our group trail past a small river and small houses to the main farmhouse which was to be our lunch venue.

Because of the recent meat scares, the only carnivorous choice given was stewed pork which we didn’t eat any way. The rest of the dishes brought out were all from the farm which included spring onions, carrots, green peppers, beans, cabbage and potatoes.

There was also a delicious fried bamboo selection, a fresh water seasoned fish, tofu in a garlic sauce and, the Chinese stable, rice. Oh, and a plate of strawberries for dessert! The dwelling was a simple affair with our dining area opening up to a concrete courtyard which had smaller houses and an outdoor kitchen.

The school staff had organised a simple ice-breaker game which involved the popping of a balloon. Inside each balloon was either a prize or a forfeit. I got a slip with a prize on it (a Chinese language book), whereas Lezil drew the short straw and had to do a forfeit. She was told to pull five different faces for the camera. She was a pro as she put her years of stage experience to good use.

Bellies full, we briskly walked back to the bus. It was late afternoon and the temperature was beginning to drop. Once inside the warmth of the bus, it was a 40 minute drive to Zhujajiao – one of Shanghai’s prime tourist spots. Up until now, we hadn’t had the chance (or the time!) to make the trip out to this appealing water village.

It didn’t disappoint. The main north entrance area was deceptively small as once you got past the main canal area, the whole village became an enticing run of tiny alleys and hidden water canals. The bad weather even worked to our advantage as the place was very quiet with visitors.

The village is said to date back more than 1,700 years with its principle stone bridge – Fangsheng – being the longest and the highest giving a 360 degree view of the entire area.

Popularity has it double effect. On the one hand, the village has benefitted from the influx of tourist money. On the other, commercialisation can erode the appeal of an ancient historic site. The winding lanes were pretty much a collection of shops or independent coffee outlets and restaurants. These eateries were a labour of love as each one had its unique décor which many were like walking into someone’s private home. Very cosy and touching small details.

I can imagine in nicer weather, the open deck sections of these places would be where you would while away the time with a nice drink and watch the Chinese water gondolas drift by. There were a few out on the water that day, but we didn’t fancy sitting still in the cold and we had a limited time frame in the village itself.

Before long, it was back to Zhujajiao’s main entrance for a final group photo brandishing the school’s emblem printed on a flag. The bus trip back to the city centre was a silent one as everyone pretty much was out for the count.

Friday, for many, is the day to start unwinding in anticipation for the following two days off. And the Friday just gone also happened to be my birthday, so as you can imagine I was in an exceptionally celebratory mood that day. It was still a work day, but I made sure that one of my final classes of the day (a weekly ‘English Corner’ for around 30 students) would somehow incorporate a ‘marking of the occasion’.

I made it blatantly obvious by writing on the board “Birthdays” and there followed an hour’s theme which included bringing out a pre-bought chocolate birthday cake and inviting other April babies on to the stage with me.

As much as they were students, a number of them had also become good friends (the plus side of teaching adults). 9pm and I wrapped up my final class for the week.

At home, I dumped my teaching gear. Lezil was all glammed up and ready to go. Our night was to be at the recently refurbished Geisha club. Reggie, a close friend and a prominent DJ on the Shanghai scene, had organised a charity night. Clubbers came out in force (I was told over 700 people) spread over two floors. MAD logos were everywhere ensuring that we knew the whole purpose of the evening was about “Making A Difference”.

It’s a non-profit organisation set up by Reggie (also known as DJ Verse@tille) and through his team’s tireless efforts, they have helped a number of charities both in China and back in his native South Africa.

Lezil and I being the early birds, we managed to take advantage of the clubs generous offer of 8 drinks for RMB 100 ($15). Some friends had already arrived and as the place was still warming up (and the music not too loud), it gave us a chance to catch up without losing our voices in the process. Slowly but surely over the next hour, the rest of our friends trickled in by which time the first floor, where we were stationed, had upped the tempo with some banging Hip Hop club beats.

Lezil and I don’t usually do the whole club thing. We opt more for live music venues with a good band. But once in a while it’s fun to get buck wild (all above board!). The top third floor had started to fill up around midnight where DJ Envoy (another friend, Brent) was spicing things further with all the latest and greatest from the islands.

The Caribbean and African massive had come out in force and the atmosphere was pumping. From Bashment to Reggae to Soca and even some UK Funky House – the dancefloor was packed as people booty-shaked to familiar beats. These were my ‘Dancehall Shanghai Shakers’. I was in my total element here. 

Mentioning this to a friend in passing, his response was “I’ll take you to my uncle friend’s store. They will look after you…”. That’s what I love about life in China in general. If someone is remotely connected to a business or industry, and they know you, chances are you’ll not only getting the pick of the bunch, but at a good price too. Call it a type of ‘guanxi’ – a connection or relationship. It’s an almost unspoken rule where by two parties look to do favours for each other, mostly seen when doing business in China.

Well, this particular vague-type-of guanxi (cue my friend Jening) took us to a nondescript apartment block in downtown Shanghai. Pressing for the 8th floor, the elevator silently ascended and I curiously asked Jening where exactly we were heading as, minutes before, we had passed a small shopping complex en route to the building we were now in. “To the glasses store,” he responded. Not at all what I was expecting.

Sure enough at the end of the short corridor on the 8th floor was a glass door entrance still with its residential door bell for entering.

Once buzzed in, the once-before-apartment had been converted to a well-lit frames-and-shades store with practically every luxury brand on show. Gulp. I was worried that Jening had mistaken us as uber-rich folk by bringing us to a high-end store, with the inevitable high-end prices. I picked up the nearest pair of Dior sun glasses. Price tag: RMB 3,000 ($ 480). Already my mind was coming up with all sorts of excuses to put off any purchase that day (and to eventually prevent a future re-visit).

Trying to sound as casual as possible I posed the question “Where are the lower priced glasses?” I was shown to the far wall. Armani, Gucci, Chanel all adorned any number of differently styled frames. For those brands, the word ‘budget’ is a blatant swear word.

Remembering Jening’s initial comment about “being looked after” – I bit the bullet and called him over. “Um, these frames are all wonderful but they are a bit more expensive than we were expecting to spend.” (I went for a more tactful open statement instead of a direct “How exactly will we be looked after?”) “Don’t worry, I get you a good price, this is my uncle’s good friend,” he said with a massive grin. Not wanting to be over bearing, but needing a concrete starting figure, I grabbed a pair of nearby Burberry’s which had RMB 2,000 ($320) marked on them. “OK, but how about these? How much?” I said handing him over the glasses.

He disappeared into the office next door. A bit of cost-bartering followed and he re-emerged. “You can pay around RMB 600 ($95),” he told me. And that, he continued, would include the eye test and the manufacturing of the lenses.

Now that I knew that some of these beautiful people brands were within our financial grasp I was going to make sure we tried on as many pairs to find that exact fit for her.

In the end, it was a toss-up between two strong contenders – a bold white Armani with slick lines versus a jet black Marc Jacobs with soft rimmed edges. Although I was trying to convince my wife to go with an outspoken fashion statement (namely the Armani), she opted for the latter MJs as these were more adaptable (as she put it). The optician on duty looked barely over twelve years old, but despite his deceiving youthful looks, he showed in depth knowledge ensuring that Lezil’s eyes were tested thoroughly. An hour later and her new pair of Marc Jacobs were ready to be taken home.

Final cost: RMB 450 ($70), down from the original price of RMB 1,700 ($270). And yes, before some of you sceptics get your claws out, these were the real deal imported in from Europe.

I texted my boss that morning telling her that I was too poorly to come into teach as I had a high fever,  a runny nose and was feeling nauseous. She immediately responded, “…go to the hospital. You know in Shanghai we have bird flu now…”. I wave of panic came over me. Sure enough, looking up the symptoms online I ticked all the boxes.

It’s not been a good year so far in terms of food safety in China. First things kicked off with the catastrophe of Biblical proportions where thousands of dead pig carcasses were being hauled out of Shanghai’s Huang Pu river (a source of drinking water of the city).

I decided to put positive thinking into practise by telling myself that in a few hours I would be fine. On the contrary, despite having slept the whole afternoon, drank loads of warm lemon water with  honey, I was feeling progressively worse. From our bed, I feebly called out to Lezil asking her if we could go to the hospital to get to the bottom of this sickness. It was a short 10 minute taxi ride to Ruijin Hospital – widely seen as Shanghai’s best. They do have a foreign section but at an overly priced premium. We had already registered as patients before, so it was pretty straight forward using the local facilities.

Unfortunately my Chinese vocab doesn’t quite extend to explaining specific medical symptoms.

Upon entering the emergency reception area, the place wasn’t overly busy. All around were warning signs for the H7N9 virus and how best to prevent catching it. The old lady on the desk spoke zero English and all I could say in the Chinese was that I was sick and then I pointed at the Bird Flu poster.

She must have thought I was mad. I called up my boss (who kindly offered to help translated if I needed it). Handing the phone over, the masked-receptionist chatted for a few moments ending her conversation with “Wo ming bai le…” (Oh, I see….). I got handed a thermometer and was told to keep it in my mouth for 3 minutes. My boss was still on the other end as I got the low down on what would happen next.

Hanging up I returned to the reception desk and handed back the thermometer. It read 37C – normal. So far, so good. But I still felt very weak and had the sensation of wanting to throw up.

She booked me in with the doctor for a closer look. Unlike some previous experiences in emergency section of British hospitals, here I was seen to very quickly.

A brief check of my breathing with a stethoscope the doctor on duty asked that I go for a blood test.

Again, it was a speedy process and I literally waited no more than 20 minutes to get the results back. Various components showed that I had a very high cell count which, the doctor, later told me that I did indeed have a virus but that thankfully it was not of the H7N9 variety.

Phew! I came away with a couple of packets of antibiotics to take over the next few days. Job done.

Yes, this may come across as being overly cautious, but when you are in close proximity with people who tend to not cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze (especially not nice in a packed metro train) – it’s definitely better to be safe than sorry. Shanghai’s municipalities have shut down the trade of all live poultry until the virus is contained. Over 110,000 chickens so far have been culled and the streets around where we live – the giant bird cages are uncharacteristically empty.

According to a local newspaper, Shanghai gets through around 130 million birds a year (that’s just ONE city). Times that by the countless other mega-to-medium sized Chinese urban sprawls and  you do wonder how the demand for meat is being kept up in a safe and sanitary way fit for human consumption.

It’s that time of year to renew our visas once more. This will herald the start of my fourth year in China and Lezil’s fifth. Rewind a few years back and had you asked me where I’d be in 2013, China certainly wouldn’t have figured in the equation. My perception, as with most foreigners who have never stepped foot in the country, was shaped by the western media’s obsession of packaging this humongous and extremely diverse culture into one neat little box.

But China has proven itself so much more than a communist-led government whose economy continues to forge ahead despite the global difficulties elsewhere. Most outsiders I know living here have those days where you could never imagine living anywhere else. And then come the down times when just as you think you have got to grips with all the kinks and quirks of being in a Chinese city – you long for something a bit more familiar to your pre-Asian existence.

The scary moment is when you realise your love affair is slowly coming to an end and it’s time to pack up your bags and leave. Thankfully, we haven’t arrived at that point yet. As many of you know, I have spent my time living in two cities. First was Hohhot, Inner Mongolia’s capital – a very remote part of north China with an expanse of empty grassland just north of the city telling a completely different tale to the often-portrayed crowded China.  Then followed a move further south to Shanghai – China’s so-called sparkling mainland jewel.

Here, you jostle with over 7 million people who use the city’s metro system daily. There’s a skyline endlessly punctuated with the tops of sky scrapers and a frantic pace-of-life where everyone’s out to carve a living someway somehow. Those at the top end of the income scale are spectacularly rich with more than 90 billionaires and over 370,000 millionaires quoted as residing in the city (US Dollars). The sense of entrepreneurship freely flows, within strict government boundaries of course, and the cost of living is low compared to other major hubs like London or New York.

Points against include the every-increasing air pollution, health and safety issues, employment practises (that took a while to get used to), the tightening control of the internet (no facebook, no youtube, google gets blocked regularly, VPNs are going down) and, yes, there’s the spitting. My walk to work is guaranteed to come across at least four displays of healthy throat hocking following by a grand finale of phlegm-spewing right in the middle of the sidewalk. As with anything you are exposed to continually, surprisingly I’ve become somewhat immune to it now. And so it’s on that note that I tip my glass up and say “here’s to another year in Shanghai!”

Many of you who haven’t yet to come and visit us (you know who you are!), there’s another 12 months to try and catch us while were still in this amazing country. In the meantime, feast your eyes on our very unique accommodation – known as a ‘Shanghai lane house’ which in recent years has become a hot spot for foreigners looking to embrace a bit of Chinese history in a city known more for its modernity than anything else. According to our landlady, this particular property we are living in is around 90 years old and has been in her family for about 80 of those years.

It’s got charm, its rough around the edges but for the last two years, it has become our little love nest where our neighbours have become like familiar room mates. We are the only completely inclusive apartment in the building. The rest of it is divided up into actual rooms (one family to a room) where there are two very rustic-looking kitchens and a toilet which is shared by all the tenants. As with the rest of the four-floored block, we have access to the communal garden. But to honest, it’s really only used for clothes-drying and slaughtering chickens and pigeons (our 1st floor neighbour likes his meat fresh!). We are the only foreigners there, giving us a great immersion into local living.