Chuck Gives Peace Hotel a Chance

The magnificent Peace Hotel with its green pyramid shaped top.

The outside is only matched by its glorious interior . . .

        I’m not a political person, but this week we celebrated the eleventh anniversary of September 11th, and I remember that horrible day.  And then the American Embassy was overrun in Libya and four people were killed, including our Ambassador in what is now being called a coordinated terrorist attack.  
I thought it only fitting to focus on one place, which at least symbolically  represents by its very name, what we should all be striving towards: peace.
The Peace Hotel.
Yes, that is its real name.

This is the entrance on the Nanking Road side.  

When we were recently traveling in China, one of my obsessions was to see the Peace Hotel again. I’d stayed there eight years before, and I was determined to at least visit this hotel and see it again, for it is one of those very special places that truly takes you back in time.
But let me explain.
Years ago, there was a movie, a very popular cult classic called Somewhere in Time starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour.  Reeve, a playwright, an unhappy playwright, takes a break from his writing and decides to stay at the old Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island in Michigan.  One day he spots a photograph of a beautiful woman (Seymour) hanging in an anteroom off the lobby and immediately falls in love with her, only to discover later that she’s an actress from the turn of the century.  Undaunted, he tracks down his old college professor who believes time travel is possible.  The critical element, Reeve learns, is to find a place that actually existed in the time period you want to return to and then convince your mind that you are in that new time period by surrounding yourself visually with clues from that place in time.  Reeve is able to travel in time to Seymour and the story goes on from there.

This display case captures a bygone era.  

Walking into the Peace Hotel is like walking back in time.

I love this shot--the beautiful Art Deco style light and wall decorations ...


Located on the Bund, along the Huangpu River on Nanking Road, the busiest road in Shanghai, the Fairmont Peace Hotel was originally called the Sassoon House and housed the Cathay Hotel.
      Construction lasted from 1926 to 1929 and was begun by Sir Victor Sassoon (yes, that famous family) who made his fortune by trading for opium and weapons.  Before 1946, the Cathay Hotel was considered the most prestigious hotel in Shanghai.  After the Communist take-over, the hotel functioned as a government building, and then in 1956 it reopened for the first time as the Peace Hotel.  In 1992 it became listed as one of the famous hotels of the world by the World Hotel Association. It has become particularly known for its jazz band, which has played continuously since the 1930’s.
The Peace Hotel closed in 2007 for a three year renovation so the approximately 300 guest rooms could be modernized.  I stayed in the hotel before the renovation, and, perhaps, that’s why I felt it was so special.   I remember the exact moment I first walked into the hotel.  Jazz music was playing in the background, oddly enough.  The interior of the hotel is Art Deco, and it boasts a white marble floor and yellow walls.  So walking through the halls for the first time, I was dumbstruck by the feeling that I was walking through a time tunnel and that any moment someone would say or do something that would prove to me that somehow we’d been whisked back to the 1930’s.  Maybe that was my secret fantasy--walk down a long hallway and by the time you reach the end of it, you are back in time.  You unlock a  room and stare out the window, and sure enough, what you see in Nanking Road--the street is once again jammed packed with rickshaws and foot traffic and all signs of innovation and modern technology are gone.
Midnight in Paris?  No, early evening in Shanghai.  
           When we first arrive at the Peace Hotel, this time, Bob and I and a reluctant Chuck wander around for a bit and then head to the lounge, the bar and order two Bloody Mary’s.  We are too early for the Jazz Band and our plan is to have a drink and then head upstairs for dinner at the Dragon and the Phoenix, one of the eight restaurants in the hotel. 

This is the bar/lounge area where the jazz music is played and where Bob and I sat with Chuck.

But we savor every moment of our time in the lounge area and realize that the decor probably hasn’t changed much in close to eighty years.  We are the only ones in the lounge so when the friendly bartender scoots out, we’re free to relax and sip our drinks. Chuck is sulking.  He didn’t want to come to the Peace Hotel.  Not a fan.  So break one of my cardinal rules and let him go free to sniff around and explore.  
“Just give the Peace Hotel a chance, okay?”
Yes, there are no cats allowed, but I get the feeling with this place, that even if Chuck were spotted, we’d be given a frown and then time to scoop him up and head for the door.  
Everything is elegant and old world.
        Of course, I’ve filled Chuck in on the history of the place.  And although the kid likes being outside, a place like this with all the different smells will hopefully keep him busy for awhile.  And, frankly, Bob and I get lost in the atmosphere.  
We’re both movie buffs and can easily imagine all the people who sat in this room over the decades--the dresses of the women, the music that played, the dancing, the drinking.  It’s almost as if you could close your eyes and then open them and see another time, another place . . .
“Chuck.  Where the hell is Chuck?”
From out of nowhere, I realize that Chuck is missing.  He has wandered out of the lounge.  Followed his sniffing nose . . . somewhere . . . who the hell knows where.
I easily panic when it comes to the kid.  
And he is like a kid.  
He’ll get totally lost in the moment.  
Bob and I leave our delicious drinks behind, rush to the door.  
“You go that way.  I’ll go this way.”  There’s a hallway.  He could only have gone one way or the other.  “Meet back here.”
We scamper away, and I can feel my heart pounding. I won’t even allow myself to think about the impossibility of trying to find a cat lost in the Peace Hotel.  Lost in Shanghai.  Lost in China. 
I may never see him again.
And what were my last words?  Give the Peace Hotel a chance? 

         Stay tuned for Part 2 of Chuck Gives Peace Hotel a Chance to be posted on Sunday, September 23, 2012.  

Chuck's Magical Mystery Tour of Yu Garden

        

Classic view of Yu Garden, showing the water and greenery and the buildings

        This week, students from all over the country marched back to school.  Back to books and studying and as the days go by, back to those dreaded exams.  

The Chuckster is lucky--no school and no exams, and yet, even though he had a reprieve, he still exhibited signs of high anxiety.  

        His brief dalliance with Tai Chi helped a little, but because I sensed he needed more, we arranged a stop, when we were in Shanghai, at very special place in the Old City of Shanghai, China.

Yu Garden.  

Like most places and things in China, Yu Garden is old, very old, and the way it came about--this lush garden smack in the middle of Shanghai--is quite interesting.

A view from Yu Garden looking out toward Old City, Shanghai--the crowds of people

        The garden was first conceived in 1559 during the Ming Dynasty by Pan Yunduan, after failing one of his imperial exams.  He began constructing the gardens for his father to give him comfort.  Now, I’ll stop here to comment.  They had exams even as far back as 1559??  In China??  So, we’re doomed, of course, to never rid our system of them.  

         Anyway, Pan Yunduan was appointed Governor of the Sichuan Province, and he had to postpone construction of the gardens for twenty years.  Eventually he did resume construction. When completed, the gardens were considered to be, in his era, the largest and most prestigious in Shanghai.  But it’s also said that the final cost of the gardens helped to financially ruin him.

The gardens, at first, were kept in the family. Over the years they suffered damage during several different wars.  They were rebuilt by private citizens and the government, and they were eventually opened to the public in 1961.  

I’m glad they survived, and I wanted Chuck to see them, to experience them, because I’d been to the gardens before and I remembered how peaceful, and magical and mystical they made you feel as you walked through them.  

This time as Chuck and I left the hustle and bustle of Shanghai and entered into the peaceful retreat of Yu Garden, I thought of that story--realizing that this was no ordinary garden.  It covers five acres and includes six different areas, each one separated by a dragon wall, built of gray tiled ridges and ending in a dragon’s head.   Each area can include:

rock peaks or cliffs or caves or gorges or chambers or ponds or pavillions or towers or actual buildings where tea is served.  

Keep in mind that this garden is in the middle of the city, but it feels like you're in the middle of the woods

the exquisite rock designs that line the buildings 

The air inside the garden was cool and sweet.  I knew that Chuck would enjoy the pond, which is stocked with fish--goldfish--so we sauntered along the stone path until we found a quiet area where we could stop and peer over the edge.  

This is where Chuck was looking down, mesmerized by the goldfish

When we’re home, Chuck loves to watch the squirrels and the birds.  Here he immediately became mesmerized.  The goldfish floated by, and if it wasn’t for the fact that cats hate getting wet, Chuck would have dived right into that pond!

But he didn’t.

Instead he did actually relax for five minutes, extending his body along the rocks, resting his face on his paws, gazing contentedly into the water.  

Until, of course, a tourist came by.

“Come on.” I motioned Chuck to follow me.  I knew of another place, a secluded place where we wouldn’t be disturbed.  

That’s the beauty of Yu Garden.  You can follow the paths, and then veer off and find a special place to sit and just be.  

We followed this pathway to our secret retreat

We found that place and I would like to say that Chuck reached perfect contentment, but the kid is truthfully a nervous wreck.  He sort of relaxed.  Chuck almost found peace.

The further we walked, the more secluded the area became

He found a rock, laid on his back, got into his “Chuck meditative position,” and closed one eye.  

Something popped in the distance.

No, not a tourist this time.

A squirrel.

Luckily, Chuck just followed the poor creature with his gaze as he scampered up the tree.  

But the moment was lost.  The kid was hungry.  It was time to go.  

Was Yu Garden worth it?  Most definitely.  Peaceful and Magical and Mystical.

Even Chuck would agree.  

        To read more about Chuck's adventures, log onto www.katelutter.com

         My paranormal romance, Wild Point Island, has recently been released in paperback and ebook.  It can be purchased on Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com   

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         She must decide who she can trust as she bargains with the Island Council: the sexy revenant (who vows to help her but who has his own reasons for getting off the island) her identical twin sister (who follows her to the island and offers her assistance but who seems to thwart her at every turn), her uncle (who appears to be helping her mother, but then holds too many secrets), or the Island Council itself (which seems politically motivated against her).  
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Chuck-the Reluctant Tai Chi Learner

   

Here's my Chuck, controlling himself at the food bowl, waiting for his sister Ella to finish.

Okay, a minute later, he couldn't wait any longer and began to eat.  You can see his purple collar in this shot.

             For those of you who follow my blog, you may have--over the past few months--formed a certain impression about Chuck.
The hero.  The rascal.  The cat about town.  World traveler.
Snack lover.
What you perhaps didn’t know and I was reluctant to share is that Chuck is a confirmed overeater.  Put a bowl of snacks in front of him, and he won’t stop eating until the bowl is 100% licked clean.  

The Chuckster just loves to eat.  Here he is, face in the bowl, chomping away.

My vet, Dr. Charlie, says that his overeating problem is linked to his insecurities.  Like people, he eats to feel in control of his environment.  He is struggling to control his anxieties.  My Chuck even wears a calming collar--it happens to be purple--which he’s not to keen about--which helps keep his anxieties at bay.
Which leads me to what happened when Chuck and I and my husband were traveling through China, in Xian, to be exact, and we had an opportunity to learn Tai Chi.
Now, I’m sure that some people believe that cats don’t need to learn Tai Chi.  They don’t need the benefits of this ancient Chinese martial art.  
But I disagree . . . given Chuck’s history. 
Yeah, my Chuckster is a world traveler, but his dirty little secret was that he was gaining weight at an alarming rate and we needed to do something to get his anxieties under control.

The Chuckster comes up for a breather . . . but before he's finished, the food will be gone.

What does a cat have to be anxious about?
It’s difficult to say.  Chuckie doesn’t talk much about his issues.  I mean he doesn’t meow much.  
So while we were cruising around China, visiting the sites, we decided to join a Tai Chi class. 
Of course, it was my idea, and my first challenge was to get Chuck to go along with it.  To become a willing participant.
My plan was to bring him along and explain the benefits on the way, casual like.  So one morning we set off.  Luckily, the class was offered outside on a public square.  The other fortunate event was that in present day China, there is no longer a ban on cats, like there was eight years ago, when the country was in such bad economic downturn, that the population was not allowed to have cats or dogs as pets.  Nowadays, families can have unlimited cats and one dog per household.   
Anyway, as we strolled toward the class, I told Chuck that Tai Chi offered two separate benefits.  First, there were health benefits. Tai Chi relaxes the mind through the slow, slow, slow movements.  When someone learns how to do Tai Chi, they must concentrate on the physical movements.  This concentration forces you to take your mind off other things.  It is a kind of meditation.  You can’t think about your other problems and concentrate on Tai Chi at the same time.
I’d even brought some statistics with me.  
“Chuck, in twenty-one of thirty-three trials, they reported that Tai Chi done from one hour in duration to one year brought about reduction in stress, anxiety, and depression and enhanced the mood in patients who were both well to begin and in patients who suffered chronic conditions.”
Chuck shrugged because he didn’t think he had a problem.
“Chuck, Tai Chi might even have some effect on corisol production which means it might even affect your heart rate.  All good things, Chuck.”
Now here, I have to confess that I know Chuck worries a lot about Ella, his twin sister.  He is always keeping an eye out for her.  
But again Chuck didn’t acknowledge that there even was a problem.
The second benefit, the one that has made this ancient martial art so popular, is that Tai Chi also teaches one how to defend themselves, but I could tell as I began to talk about using leverage as a way to react to force that Chuck was just not interested.  AT ALL.
We arrived at the appointed place.  
We introduced ourselves to the instructor, who was getting ready to start.  

Our Tai Chi instructor dressed in the usual free flowing relaxed outfit.

Tai Chi for cats?
At this point, it sounded ridiculous, even to me, but even so it would have been nice if only once, the Chuckster wasn’t so obstinate and had just tried it!
“All right,” I conceded. “You win.  This time.”
I’d already contracted for the class.  
Bob, my husband, pointed to the group of people already assembled.  “You may as well get up there and get your money’s worth.”
I marched up the front and took my place, still seething, still mumbling under my breath about Chuck and how things never seemed to work out.  
Chuck eyed me from the sidelines, nestled in and comfortable.  
But as I imitated the instructor’s movements and lost myself in the experience, my bad mood dissipated and by the end of the session, I felt calmer.  

I'm in the yellow T-shirt and jeans, trying my best--my first time ever with Tai Chi.

As you can see from the photo, the movements are very fluid and controlled, very slow.

Here I am, watching and taking a breather as the instructor demonstrates how to move.

Legs are wide apart for stability.

As we practiced our Tai Chi, a crowd gathered to watch . . .

“That was great,” I pronounced when it was over.  “So glad I tried it.  So glad I took a chance.”



Chuck meowed his answer.  
“Yeah, yeah, not for you.  I get it.”  
     
        To read more of Chuck's adventures, log onto www.katelutter.com.  

        Or if you're a reader, or even a reluctant reader, my paranormal romance, Wild Point Island, has just been published.  It is available as a paperback or it can be downloaded on your kindle or nook at Amazon.com or Barnesandnoble.com. 

Chuck Protests Dog Bar in Long Branch . . . Almost

The Long Branch beach with palm trees 

    I took one look at the palm trees, situated sporadically on the well-groomed beach, and thought, “This will be the perfect place for the Chuckster to relax.”

    Not that I was that worried, but my rascal cat had been under a bit of strain lately, and this place . . . Pier Village in Long Branch, New Jersey had things to recommend it.

    1.   It was close by to where we would be visiting friends for the weekend.

    2.  It boasted a restaurant McCloone’s with good food and an excellent  

      view of the water.

    

    3.  It had shopping--cute little trendy boutiques, all built with a Victorian- 

      styled storefront that is both nostalgic and classy.

   4.  AND it had a boardwalk.  Now, the boardwalk wasn’t as long as the one

      in Seaside Heights, but still you could get a decent walk if you started   

      at one end and went all the way to the other.

The boardwalk at Long Branch

    5.  There was a beach with a lifeguard in attendance, which was important    

           because the week before, a body had washed up on shore.

The beach

    6.   It also seemed a bit of a happening place, and we weren’t  disappointed 

           when we arrived.  Music drifted through the air, compliments of a 

           beach club. A crowd had also gathered on the boardwalk, facing   

           the ocean, excited because a wedding was about to take place.  

     7.  And, finally, the place had history.  Years before in 1987 a fire had   

          destroyed Long Branch Pier, the place where seven United States  

          Presidents had vacationed in Long Branch’s glory days.  It wasn’t until

          2005 that developers, using the rights granted them by eminent  

         domain, rebuilt the boardwalk and created Pier Village. 

     

      Not that any of that history mattered to Chuck, but I think he was excited to see the ocean and the seagulls. 

     

      We parked the car in the over-priced lot and decided to go for a quick jaunt down the boardwalk before dinner. 

      We passed the stores and snuck a peek, but we were window shopping only.

Pier Village offers an array of stores--mostly boutiques

    

      Further down the boardwalk, the crowds thinned out. It was going to be a nice night--cool and breezy.  

    

      Chuckie had jumped out of my smart bag and was trotting along side, enjoying the ocean view.  When we reached the end of the boardwalk, our plan was to turn around, walk back to the restaurant, then hop on the beach for a few minutes of relaxation before dinner.

Can you imagine yourself lounging on one of these chairs?

      A few people had dogs with them, but everyone was behaving themselves.  

      And, of course, that’s when you can always be sure something is going to happen.  Something bad.

      I should have known.  I should have expected it.

      Chuck glanced to his right and froze on the spot.

      I saw the sign, too, at the same moment and issued a silent prayer that no one else would see the sign and impetuously read it aloud.   

      Chuck tilted his head sideways as if he were trying to figure it out.

       Chuck can’t read, but he knows certain words by sight. 

  

       The word DOG, for example.  He knows the word DOG.  

        Just as I turned to signal silence to my husband and my two friends, I saw my husband--as if in slow motion--point to the sign.  He was smiling, amused by the audacity of some people, I supposed, to be so . . . 

       “Hey, look at that sign--”

       “Bob,” I shouted, in my best warning tone of voice.

        Chuck now stared directly at my husband’s face.

        “Do you see that?  Do you see what it says?” Bob said, completely oblivious to the impending doom of his words.

        Here it comes.  

        “Dog bar.”  He paused, as if perplexed.  Then, “Oh, I get it.  You can bring your dog to the bar.”

The sign that almost made Chuckie PROTEST . . .

        It was what he didn’t say that cut Chuckie to the bone.  You can bring your DOG to the bar, but not your CAT?

        Darn it, I thought.  Why does the world have to be this way and favor dogs over cats.  I hate that!

         I scooped Chuck into my arms.  “I wouldn’t go to that stupid bar anyway.”

         He blinked at me.

   

         “Probably,” I added, trying in my own way to make sense out of the world, “they figure that cats are too sophisticated to go to bars.  Am I right?  Anyway, you’d rather have your snacks at home.”

          I started to walk away from that bar toward the restaurant and the beach.  Chuckie wiggled a bit in my arms and I knew what he wanted to do.  I could see it all now.  Chuck wanted to jump down onto the boardwalk, scamper over to the board and in his own inimitable way, let the owner know that he was offended.  

          Chuck wanted to PROTEST that sign.  

         “It’s not worth it,” I whispered as I held him close in my arms.  

         Finally he sighed, and we left.    

         When we reached McLoone’s, I smuggled Chuck into our booth.  

         There’s certainly nothing wrong with that!

To read more about Chuck and his adventures, log onto www.katelutter.com

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is now available in paperback and ebook formats from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.

    

   

    

    

    

        

     

Chuck is Hero During Baby Crab Attack

 

        I’ve lived in Jersey all my life and I love the Jersey shore, but I’ll admit it here and now, I’m no fan of crabbing and fishing.
Every year when my sister rents a shore house near the bay, with the express intention of crabbing and fishing, I know I’ll face the pressure to finally learn how to set a trap or bait a line or do whatever they spend hours doing on the dock.
I was prepared to withstand the pressure.
But this year I brought the rascal Chuck with me, and the kid seemed curiously interested.  He kept wandering over to the dock and sniffing around.  He sat mesmerized watching as my nieces and nephews did all the "fishermanly things", hoping to catch a crab or two or three or four, enough for a delicious feast.  He became fascinated with the concept of the crab cages being lowered into the water with chicken wings used for bait.  

            He insisted on perching on the built-in benches facing the water while one of my nieces walked from line to line, which were hanging off the dock, checking to see if a crab was clinging yet to the bait (the sorry heads of fish) that someone had strung to the lines.

I figured what could it hurt.  After all, Chuck has always been a curious cat.  An adventurous cat.  I’d been a bit concerned that he’d be bored staying at a beach house, but luckily this crabbing and fishing caught his interest. 
And things were rolling along quite smoothly until they weren’t.  
Imagine a beautiful evening.  The day had been hot, in the high eighties, but now a cool breeze swept through as the sun began to set.  This is my favorite time of the evening, and my niece had just wandered out of the house to check the crab traps and lines AGAIN, hoping that something had finally either latched onto a line or crawled into a trap.
Chuck scampered out of the house, too, following my niece and perched as usual on one of the benches, his eagle eye watching her every movement.  
She yanked up line after line, but there was nothing on the end but the bait.
Then, as went to pull up yet another line, she stopped and met my gaze. 
“I think we’ve got something,” she said, stilling the upward momentum.
“I’ll get the net.”  
After all, maybe the weight of the crab had clued her into its presence, and we would need the net to help capture him/her.  Suddenly, I imagined this gigantic crab clinging to the head of the fish, chomping away and none too happy that we were disturbing his meal.  
And, of course, Chuck came closer.  He probably sensed that something was about to happen.  Or maybe he could smell the crab on the end of the line, and didn’t want to miss out on anything.
I skedaddled down the dock toward the net that someone had carelessly thrown on the stones that lined the dock.  Of course, I almost killed myself because there was a step down that I didn’t see until it was too late.  But I didn’t lose my balance.  It was awkward, but I managed to maintain my stride.  I grabbed the net and ran back to where my niece stood there in a kind of suspended animation.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded and tilted the net toward the water. 
Yeah, I can guess what you’re thinking.  It was as if we were on some desert island somewhere and we hadn’t eaten in weeks and this one crab would be the difference between life and death, but you don’t know our family.  There is no glory in telling the story of the crab that got away.  We wanted the glory!
“Okay.”  And I glanced at Chuck and gave him the eye, which meant--don’t do anything weird.  Just sit there.  Be a good cat.  
She pulled up the line.
Oh my God.
There it was. A baby crab clinging to the fish head.  

I scooped the crab into the net and my niece took control of the operation, which allowed me to take my camera out of my pocket and snap away.  
Baby crab in net.  Niece extricating baby crab from net.  Niece holding baby crab in fingers.  And finally niece posing with baby crab.  

She didn’t seem at all disappointed that it was a baby crab.  A tiny crab.  A minuscule crab.
Nor was I alarmed that she was holding the crab in her hand.  It seemed harmless.
Until . . . until . . . it . . . he . . . she . . . decided to fight back.  
Maybe a crab lives in a family unit and didn’t realize that we were going to throw him/her back into the bay after the photo shoot.  Maybe he/she panicked. 
Somehow, the crab twisted around in my niece’s fingers.  She felt something.  A bite?  Was this a man eating crab?
My niece screamed and began shaking her hand, trying to dislodge the crab, but the crab now seemed crazy-glued to the palm of her hand.  The more she shook her hand, the tighter he/she clung.
“Help,” my niece cried.  
My Chuckster jumped into action. He leaped into the air, and with his paw, swatted the crab out of my niece’s hand.  It flew into the air and landed into the water with a splash.  Immediately, the crab disappeared under the water.  The entire incident seemed surreal.
We stood there for a minute, staring at the water in the bay.   
“I can’t believe . . .”
“It’s lucky that baby crab didn’t eat your hand.”
        "Thanks, Chuck."
Chuckie gave a soft meow.  
         I cleared my throat.  “I think the kid wants his reward,” I said, thinking to myself that in Chuck’s world, it always always comes down to SNACKS.

To read more about Chuck and his adventures, log onto 
www.katelutter.com.

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is now available at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com in paperback and ebook formats for your Kindle and Nook.