the weekend roundup

I've gotten into the bad habit of posting others' material, rather than generating my own. So, here's a hot-off-the-press update of my weekend, which was particularly ex-patriot-hued:

Very, very occasionally - say five to six times per year - I get a surge of urge to party my face off. I'm slowly recovering from this weekend's festivities, which started off a little unpromisingly, Friday night, when I, like a good ward, accompanied my uncle to the Shanghai stop of Celine Dion's world tour. He'd received tickets from a friend of his, and we sat politely through about six songs at the (extremely impressive, third-of-the-way packed) Shanghai Outdoor Athletic Stadium before admitting that we both wanted to leave. (Funny how despite having a very clear impression of her name and her face in my mind, I realized that I didn't know a single Celine Dion song besides the 'Titanic' theme) I got home, feeling a little dancy from an hour of high-piped soft rock and a little drunk-hungry from many, many weeks of sobriety. So I headed out solo to live hip-hop night at Park 97 Upstairs (above), where I got just a little too much of each to suang said cravings. There was some famous disc jockey (apparently, one can achieve international renown at spinning) mash-up-off going on in the unbranded first story, as well.

On Saturday, I went exhibit hopping in the French Concession, setting the nice weather off to advantage by getting lost all over three districts. The most interesting was the exhibit of German photographer Roland Fischer, best known for giant, glossy, blue-splashed, shoulder-deep portraiture:

I happened past a pub on my way out, and caught the reflection of the FINA Short Course World Swimming Championships on the television screen inside. I immediately canceled my remaining gallery appointment, ordered a happy hour doublet of Heinekens (the Chinese are still getting the concept down) boarded a barstool, and watched kindred spirits from third-world countries compete in sprint freestyle and butterfly events for an hour before heading home.
Sunday morning brunch was had at the local expat favorite Element Fresh. It's a Chinese-owned-and-run chain, but is tuned to the hip foreign palate, featuring fresh smoothies, cobb and nicoise salad, and fruit-and-lean-protein paninis served on earth-toned parallelograms. Afterwards, I stocked up unnecessarily on baguettes and roulades at the neighboring PAUL, a trendy upscale French boulangerie. I certainly felt at the height of yuppie glory as I boarded the subway, laden with label loaves and filled with prettily-garnished, low-fat hangover cure.
This is quite a popular weekend itinerary in all major cities, I suppose, but not one that I ever completed in New York. It would have been a little more enjoyable if I didn't feel like kind of a big tool, dancing and eating at posh venues full of wealthy and beautiful young French and Swiss folks.