The renrou ("ren row", 人肉) or human flesh search engine has been at it again. Today the Shanghai Daily reported that after angry netizens (wangmin or 网民) viewed a video posted of a girl beating up another girl at school, 300 of them descended on the school demanding the girl be punished.

After the video was posted online, angry viewers figured out who the perpetrator was and then posted her personal information including her home address and her father's cell phone number. The crowd dispersed from the school after speaking to the principal. School authorities are looking into the beating "before deciding on punishment".

It's frightening to think what an angry mob could do if a video were doctored or folks target the wrong person in their search for justice. But this cyber posse phenomenon, dubbed in Chinese "the human flesh search engine", can also be used for good purposes. Interested netizens help people find lost relatives and kidnapped children. I posted a story in August about an adopted boy in the US whose adoptive mother used the internet and the help of Chinese netizens to find her son's birth family.

The Chinese saying is 一分钱一分货, "yi fen qian, yi fen huo" (pronounced ee fen chee-ahn, ee fen hoo-oh). This translates literally to one cent gives you one cent's worth of merchandise. Makes sense, right?

There's a whole industry of fake goods in China that lots of visitors to China go wild for when they arrive but there's a healthy local market for them as well. It goes beyond pirated DVDs and fake Gucci bags (those are the ones the tourists buy). Very few locals will spend money on legal copies of software when copies of everything from Microsoft Windows and Adobe Photoshop are available for install at every cybermarket. There are smart phones on the market that look like iPhones, operate like iPhones and smell like iPhones for a fraction of the cost (just don't drop it, it will likely shatter and don't expect and after-sale warranties on fake goods).

As a travel writer, I get asked frequently where to buy the fake goods. The answer is easy to give: every large market in China sells fake products - be it eyeglasses, watches, bags, shoes, clothing or electronics. But I remind visitors that you get what you pay for. People are often surprised when they get home and their watch doesn't work anymore or their sunglasses don't actually offer any UV protection whatsoever. The best example comes from my poor husband who bought a "leather" briefcase at the old Xiangyang Market (Shanghai's famous fake market that's now been closed and moved). To his credit, he needed a new bag for an upcoming business trip. We lived close by the market so it seemed like a quick and easy option. After an important meeting in Frankfurt, he closed the meeting, grabbed his bag and left the room - with just the handle in hand.

You get what you pay for. If you come to China and do some shopping, it will be tempting to sample some of these fake goods. But don't pay too much money for them and don't forget, yi fen qian, yi fen huo.

Perhaps, dear reader, you can help us understand the Chinese fascination with the cow / ox / bull, all of which translate into 牛 (niu). We had the huang niu from a few days ago and today I learned a slang word for "cool". Apparently, if you're cool, especially if you're writing on the web, you use the word niubi for something that is super cool. Niu bi is literally a cow's (female) nether-region. We decided "ox" or "bull" is actually cooler in English, but a bull can't have a bi, so there you have it.

If you're really stupid, you're a shabi - a stupid cow nether-region. If something is just average stupid, it's erbi - a number 2 cow nether-region. If you want to be cool and you're not, in English you're a poser. In Chinese you're a zhuangbi - a pretend cow nether-region.
As with the huang niu, we couldn't come up with an answer as to why the niu has such interesting connotations. The ox is generally thought of as strong, but being born in the year of the ox does not necessarily make you a niuren, an ultra-cool person.

The slang word niubi comes from Beijinghua - the dialect spoken in Beijing. China, as you may know, has thousands of dialects. To a student of Putonghua (mandarin), Shanghaihua is completely unintelligible to me, even after six years of living here. But the pronunciation and meaning of "bi", my teacher pointed out, is universal in most dialects. Therefore the cool?

Moo.

From Sara Naumann, About.com's Guide to China Travel, guest-blogger for Chinese Culture.

It actually took me a while to realize there is a network of lanes in Shanghai. When we moved here in 2004, we knew we weren't compound-types. No kids, no furniture, we thought a nice cozy refurbished flat in Shanghai's former French Concession would do us just fine. We found one that suited us after a few weeks of hunting and moved in while the paint was still drying. It was located off the main street, set back with a small private garden. Still navigating using a bilingual map and a lot of hand signals, I didn't get off into unmarked territory for over a year.

Then I made a new friend, someone who'd lived in Shanghai for a lot longer than I had and knew the ropes. As we strolled our newborn sons down the Sycamore-lined streets, she introduced me to the shortcuts between main roads, the sudden quiet that engulfs the alleys, the community within the hub: Shanghai's longtangs.

It amazed me how a city I'd grown to know - or thought I knew - could surprise me in such a way. Shanghai is a city of layers. For the most part, buildings are like a lazy farmer's fence - rather than strip the paint, he just slaps on another coat. But underneath, there might be some beautiful original wood. Much of Shanghai's art deco and other grand architecture is hidden behind layers of shops-upon-shops. Small flats have been thrown up in the space between the front door of an old villa and the garden gate to house the multitudes that live in the city. Once you know what to look for, you can see the gems beneath.

Now I live in a lane house with my family. An interesting mix of East meets West architecture, the row (lane) houses were built en masse in the 1920s and 30s to house the influx of people arriving in Shanghai from the outlying provinces. Usually home to single families, the houses are narrow with small gardens, three floors with small rooms on the half-floor landings. Now they house many families, each to a floor or a room. Some houses are bought by property owners and developers (like mine) and then rented out as a whole unit.

It's a nice lifestyle. While quiet when compared to living on a main road, new sounds like neighbors playing mahjong and mynah birds chattering in mandarin now wake us instead of honks and bicycle bells. To read more about life in a lane, read Tom Doctoroff's article on the Huffington Post or Kathy Pauli's blog From my Tingzijian.

From Sara Naumann, About.com's Guide to China Travel, guest-blogger for Chinese Culture.