Testing the senses in Shanghai to find China's best antitourism and off-beat secrets. Dry and sometimes funny observations from a fixed gear roller, food eater and photograph taker.

We took a midnight roll around Shanghai’s Old Town to see the city as it winds down (or winds up in some cases). It takes on a completely new atmosphere during the night, still full of activity but with the volume and lights turned down. It’s strangely comforting to feel completely safe walking down any dark alley – and probably into someone’s kitchen.

Whilst the obligatory pyjama-clad wanderer and the odd garbage forager were entirely anticipated, we weren’t quite prepared for one thing…

Around one corner the pavement was strewn with people, couples, families sleeping on mats and deckchairs. Perhaps the dilapidated apartments are just to hot to bear.

We tiptoed around and made for home filled with a dose of humility. Of course, no trip to the old streets would be complete without a welcome from the kitty committee – today’s was barely a few weeks old, sat atop a pile of cat biscuits waiting for attention.

That’s a keeper! The family aren’t going to believe who they got a photo with…..

Early on a weekend morning, Tianping Lu throngs with hungry locals. The street is lined with stalls, each offering a different type of breakfast snack: bags of soya milk, fried dough sticks, round sourbread sandwiches and savoury pancakes. The queue and our noses both agree that the latter is the star attraction and 10 minutes of the most orderly queuing I’ve ever seen in china later and we’re tucking into something magical. I can only try to explain it: a pancake with an egg cracked over it, a sprinkling of spring onion, a smear of dark almost marmite sauce and optional spice –  wrapped around a sheet of deep fried crispy pastry. Oh yes!

Good!

This morning, full of the joys of going to class on a Saturday, I slipped in the bathroom and stubbed my toes on the wall.

After being told for the 54th time by colleagues that I should get it checked out I instead took Kevin’s firm advice to go with him and get it checked out. Thankyou everybody.

Zhong Shan hospital is a couple blocks from our apartment. From the outside it resembles the future of medicine, from the inside a WWII emergency room. Film-extras made up with various complications lay on beds lining the entrance-way waiting to be wheeled into the next scene (or so we hope).

If alone, seeing them and the crowd around reception would have me pulling a quick 180. Kevin, on the other-hand ignored all of this (my hero) and within 15 seconds had me filling in “registration form 101″. 15.2 RMBs later and I’m the proud owner of a “zshospital” loyalty card. All my treatments, notes and payment history can now be accessed from anywhere with a single swipe.

Another couple of crowds circumnavigated and a few swipes later I’ve been seen by a doctor, sent for x-rays, been told: “you’ve broken your little toe” and am in the plaster-room where Kevin is exchanging phone numbers with the doctor, a surgeon is admiring my gold trainers and another hanging out with an ice cream.

The damage: 150RMB for treatment (£12 xray/ £3 plaster: to be claimed from insurance), a cast around my toes and instruction to take it easy for 6 weeks.

Accidentally attended the Shanghai Hash House Harriers meet today. The premise is not terrible, a group of runners follow pre-prepared signs (flour markings) along a 10-15k route around Shanghai’s streets and back alleys. Slightly irritating is that the the markings are sparse and often purposely misleading including dead ends and split routes with the intention of keeping forerunners back-tracking and the group loosely together.

More alarming is that the whole event seems an excuse for expats to ridicule each other. Post-run drinks include embarrassingly compered announcements (“drew is new and must down a beer from a potty”), event results (“Alex wore the tightest pants and must down a beer from a potty”) and club songs (“we like big tits we like big tits”) followed by spraying beer at everybody’s knees… and downing beer from a potty.

We made our excuses and left. It reminded me of a Paul Merton in China episode where he attended a simlar club meet. It was the Guangzhou branch of today’s group – which it turns out is a pretty big deal for expats the world over. Shame.