Deadline: Thirty

The rush hour traffic was horrible. Chock a block. Congested with Chinese men and women who wait impatiently in their cars. We were stuck on the bridge with our taxi driver spitting out on the road side.

"Ptoooooooooooooooi" was an extremely familiar sound.

More familiar than that was the harsh tones that they spoke to one another as well as the deep accented Mandarin. I was a banana in the land of Mandarin oranges. Too slim to handle and way too naive to know their conniving schemes for cheating me of another Renminbi.

Thank God for my translator - Mr Superman who could bowl over the Shen Zhen tigress who would shout and chase us away when we pushed the limits on bargaining.

Welcome all, to Shanghai - China.

The locals call it the Pearl of the Orient, ( I thought that was what we called Penang), but hey, this is one big massive pearl with the equivalent population of West and East Malaysia being crammed into one city. Every nook and corner was a standing or a squatting room for a - Chinese.

" See that lady carrying the baby on her back" said one of our tour mates.

"Mmmmhmmm" I replied.

" It's a syndicate. Nobody knows where the kids come from...but the kids the ladies carry to beg with them are about the same age. 3-6 years of age. Stolen, kidnappped most probably" she said matter-a-factly.

Her face was cracked, skin raw and red from the biting cold wind and she dodged the major highways to knock on the car doors of sleek Mercedes, MPVs and Toyotas to ask for alms.

Mr Superman kept his stare forward as she continued to knock on his car door.

I shuddered to think where the kid would go after he expired his years of begging.

The cars started to move and we slowly edged our way to getting home after a long, exhausting day in the city.

We had seen much, shopped much in those 5 days that we were there. Zipping around in the local taxis, we were able to bargain our way through at the "Copy Market". Shoppers heaven if you ask me. But of course, you need to be rather good natured and quick witted to deal with the crafty Chinese there. Plying their goods at an inflated Renminbi 450 for Nike sportswear, we were able to slash it down to Renminbi 75 which was at least 1/4 the price of the initial offer.

In the land of survival, only the fittest and the quickest will survive. I beg to differ, where you need some amount of good nature and negotiating skills without blowing up - to actually survive in this thriving city.

My cousin, Jeremy went with us for one of this bargaining trips and he commented that generally, people were confused.

China is developing at the pace of more than 8% GDP growth per year which surpasses many developing countries initial catch up syndrome. It's pulsating changes with investors coming in from abroad, has made Shanghai for one - booming with cheap counterfeits, cheap labor and head quarters for outsourcing goods. Financial institutions are latching on to China's open door policy to build their offices here - because, the next gold mine is - China.

You see expats, "Ang mo Lang" who speak fluent Mandarin being accompanied by Chinese SPGs (except that they wear the latest fashion labels instead of Sarung, or Qi Pao for that matter) in Xin Tian Di, which is the happening spot of Shanghai. The amazing thing is that they converted colonial, stone houses to accomodate to the night clubs, the pubs, the fancy restaurants and Zen like stores selling inflated Chinese ethnic products.

But....

The general sense of a Chinese young adult, 23 - 28 years old is one of running, keep running, you can't stop, keep up with the rest of the world, you need to be - seen, to be heard, to work hard, even harder to achieve at least 1 MIL by the time you're 30 years old.

" Notice how China for centuries was/is a tea drinking society. Look now, at how the young, the rich have become converts of Starbucks and Haagen Dazs in less than 20 years" Mr Superman said as part of his observation.

It's a deadline that sucks you in and keeps you wary about the Chinese. They're good. They're really good. Makes me wonder whether I am earning enough and working hard and fast enough to compete at an international level.

Makes my palms sweaty to think of such a life. Work. Eat. No time for sleep. Work. Work. Work.

Deadline: Thirty.