I live on the west side of the Huangpu river, where there are all the coffee shops, restaurants, malls, cars and scooters you could hope for. Sometimes it is nice to cross to the other side of the water, where there is a 45 km foot-and-bike path and where, even if it isn’t actually, the air feels fresher. This time of year there are marigolds along the path and some of the trees still have their leaves.
A few weeks ago, Josh and I took the line 2 subway (which I like to complain about because it’s always crowded and I’m a grump about sharing space on the subway) under the river, and got bikes from the ubiquitous bike-share program Hellobike. Armed with a baguette, some pastries that are like madeleines but aren’t, and a thermos of instant coffee, we leisurely biked in the very autumnal air. (The only speed of biking I know how to do is leisurely. Sometimes I think I might just tip over sideways, I go so slow.) We saw a big bridge, biked alongside barges lumbering down the river, and heard a saxophone coming from some hidden park.
We noticed buildings every once in a while that looked like little cafes, with signs that said Service Center, and each had a number. Heading home we stopped at one and it was the most pleasant discovery. A big room with big windows looking over the river. Tables and chairs, a sofa, and a counter with stools along one of the windows, bookshelves with books for borrowing, and an electric tea kettle for heating hot water. It was basically the coziest coffee shop I’ve been in, only you don’t go to buy anything (you can bring your own food and drink, and there is drinking water available); you simply go to have a space to be.
Josh and I settled in with our treats, coffee and books. The winter sun came warm and low into Service Center 4. Some people typed away at laptops, others read, and three older men sat around a table, emphatically discussing (something), drinking tea and peeling oranges.