The first place we went on Saturday in Shanghai was the Jade Buddha Temple. You walk in the outermost door and you find yourself in this courtyard:
Once you've stood back and observed all there is to observe in the courtyard -- and there's plenty, what with the incense and the chanting and the throngs of people -- you have to decide whether to pay a nominal fee for entrance to the actual building. We did so, of course, and immediately inside we saw this:
Then we entered a small stairwell that was densely packed with people. We could hear the ceiling above us creaking ominously. The only possible escape was a tiny window to my right.
"Somehow I don't think this place has been inspected recently," Bladerunner said as he turned his face to study the ceiling. Creeeak.
We finally made it, though, to the Jade Buddha Chamber on the second floor. There was another statue of the Buddha and the required ethereal music playing. There was also a sign prohibiting photography. (I tend to respect these, and O did not violate this admonition, as he did in Sun-Yat-Sen's mausoleum.) As we exited the Jade Buddha Chamber, I noticed several pictures of Bill Clinton on the wall, apparently from one of his visits to the temple, as well as one of Nancy Reagan. Who knew?
And as a nice bonus, seeing as how jade Buddhas have to eat too, there was a gift shop at the temple. I purchased a purply kind of bracelet for Full Moon and a tiny jade Buddha for my brother, but wasn't able to find a T-shirt that said, "I Went to the Jade Buddha Temple and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt." (God, I know. That was horrible. I apologize. I really do.)
The consummation of the deal is done rather bassackwards at the temple -- you had one of the people behind the counter inventory your purchases on a pink receipt, which you then took to the main counter, where you handed over the amount indicated on the receipt, which they kept.
As we walked into the street with our bag, one of the women working at the shop ran after us with a very angry expression on her face and letting loose a hostile stream of Chinese. Naturally, we stared blankly at her with a sort of "duh" expression, but O issued forth an equally vehement stream in response.
Apparently she thought we'd lifted the goods. O told her to go check her receipts, and almost immediately after, one of the other women ran up to her with the pink receipt listing our purchases. Once we had been cleared of the suspicion of being the kind of human refuse that would rip off a bunch of Buddhist monks, she was equanimity itself, nodding her head and smiling ruefully.
Good thing we had O. Don't know how that would have shaken out without him.
More from the temple:
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