They’re important, so let me try to capture these feelings while they’re still fresh.
Shanghai is amazing. The morning after syndrome, i.e. inevitable disillusionment, is starting to kick in, but it is no lie to say yesterday was thrilling.
I’d say it started in Chicago while waiting at the gate. Two 777s, mostly filled with natives, were boarding at the far end of one concourse and it was immediately clear which culture held sway at these gates. The boarding process was absolute chaos with no heed paid, or even attemptedly enforced, to order or orderliness.
Arriving in Pudong, we were shuffled through the infrared SARS cameras on our way to the quarantine checkpoint. A large map of the world titled “Distribution Map of Quarantinable Diseases” loomed over the perfunctory desks with little dots indicating viral hot zones in virtually every country aside from China itself.
Once through customs and baggage claim I burst into the China I remember: throngs of people waiting and milling and interacting with each other in a tight weave of bodies. I saw my sign and signaled to the driver.
Emerging from the pleasant cool of the terminal my tactile and auditory senses were simultaneously assaulted: glasses fogged and sweat glands kicked in as the 30 Celsius and high humidity cloaked me like a wet blanket; a discordant operetta of vehicle horns and traffic whistles had me whipping my head every which way while the rest of the population, particularly the offending autos, seemed to ignore them altogether.
I was chauffeured in a luxury Buick to my hotel. Cheesy jazz muzak was a surprisingly appropriate backdrop for the trip.
Two things struck me about this ride: not the crazed moped drivers, cigarettes hanging as limp afterthoughts, darting across 8 lanes of traffic as though the commute home were actually a daily exercise in russian roulette; not the lorries laden excessively high with unusual loads (wire mattress frames; woven baskets, humans); not the lone individual traveling from and to no apparent location over an expansive wasteland of recently excavated earth and rubble; no, what struck me first were the assuredly expensive and well hydrated plantings that lined the entire hi-way all 45 minutes into Pudong. Bamboo groves, Asian hydrangeas and other lush green flora created an admittedly attractive natural barrier between the road and whatever lay beyond.
That ‘whatever’ is the second thing that struck me. As a cynic, and I remain so, I assumed [not entirely incorrectly] that much of what lay beyond was the kind of barren industrial tundra, junkyards, dilapidated hutongs, or rotting communist era high-rises that the government might hope to hide from arriving westerners. However, aside from brief glimpses of this expectation immediately outside the airport, what I saw through the breaks in dense vegetation was actually this: gleaming new housing developments, seemingly well planted, not unattractive, and sporting McMansion styled villas and houses.
It was at this moment that I realized just how quickly China is moving. Large scale, high speed economic growth is a hazy concept until you see it in action. When I drove this way three years ago none of this existed. Nada, zip, zero. No plants, no prefab communities, just dirt.
Entering the city outskirts and speeding towards Pudong, I was extremely impressed. Hundreds of new, attractive skyscrapers and office buildings have been erected. Cubic yards of sparkling glass wrapped ingeniously around the recently finished and spherazoidical art museum spoke of high concept engineering and a train of similar such architectural monuments disappearing into the horizon evoked this thought: Shanghai is The Shit.
Less than 24 hours later, and significantly less enamored (having actually stepped inside several of these buildings and chuckled with the realization of just how cheap everything really is), I still feel sufficiently awed to hold to that notion. Shanghai is an impressive, gigantic, modern and re-zonkulously cheap mecca of wealth, ambition, social experiment, and plenty of slapped on veneer and drying paint.
My hotel is wonderful. It is considerably far away from the reality, intrigue and entertainment of Puxi, the larger and non-corporate left bank of the city, but my apartment is large and clean. I do not have internet, which irks me, but I have a gym. My kitchen smells of dirty Chinese drain, an awful and distinct odor that those who have visited will know well (imagine stagnant water in an aluminum pipe), but I’m happy to keep the door closed and the water flowing from the bathroom sink and shower seems clean and stink free.
Upon arriving in the Pudong airport my phone immediately started buzzing and chirping with arriving emails and sms. I was excited to find that it still works here. I am skeptical of the bill for local calls so I’ll definitely be switching to some regional service but being able send of a few messages to family and friends almost certainly added to my favorable impression of the city. As a comparison to New York, where my phone continually receives almost no signal in any part of town, Shanghai is well wired everywhere. On the one hand, this probably means the local population is being bombarded with brain melting radiation from clustered and highly magnetized cell towers; but on the other hand, the subway is wired (and sports multiple flat screen televisions in every cabin) so the convenience of it all is very complete.
But this is still China, a place that makes me grimace with anger and laugh in absurdity just as much as it makes me croon in awe or gasp in horror. On my way to meet Juliet, a Shanghainese native who I met while she was at university in Yantai, I wandered inadvertently off the beaten track and into the alleys of everyday Chinese life. A virtually naked man squatted on the curb and washed himself from a shallow pan 10 feet from a noodle shop where an only half naked, but thoroughly ancient, man lingered inside at the checkout counter reading his paper. Further onward, a skinny chinese girl sat on the sidewalk in a plastic beach chair outside her parents grocer and practiced the violin while overhead in the trees a grinding, primordial insect shriek virtually drowned out all street noises and sent shivers down my spine at the thought of just how large that cricket might be (a 10 foot human eater by the my audial reckoning).
In the subway station, standing inches from the counter and mid-transaction with the teller, a pushy woman bopped me to the side and stuck a hand full of money and a face full of twanging mandarin into the plexiglass. She got her ticket first. I swear to Confucius the blood behind my eyes started to boil but my first reaction was not to throttle the taitai like Bart Simpson and then pull the teller through the holes of the window stringing her like spaghetti, but to laugh at the sheer magnitude of the social gulf that will never allow me to understand why this behavior is considered a social norm in the middle kingdom.
I think maybe that is good for now. This city will undoubtedly offer many further stories during my stay and I look forward to relaying them onward.
Arrival News:
July 17, 2005 at 8:58 am
Harry – Thanks for this incredibly descriptive view of life on the other side of the world. From your account, growing pains seem evident, but it’s still amazing to hear about China’s explosive growth first-hand from a Westerner!
July 17, 2005 at 5:46 pm
As always, a gloriously described and entertaining view of a new and exciting place. You should consider copywriting and compiling into a book. Your biggest fan. alias (mom)
July 18, 2005 at 1:08 pm
I’d love to head out there and play a supporting role in this blog/play, but alas I am suffering the ravaging effects of excessive formaldehyde consumption. Also, I can’t afford to fly there, am not strong enough to swim there, and lack the ability to telekinetically freeze stuff necessary to create a land bridge accross the Bering Strait (moreover, I lack both the strength to walk said path and the fundage to drive said path). Oh well.
July 20, 2005 at 2:51 pm
this is so classic (from your first link):
Once believed suitable only for embalming, it was clear that formaldehyde was as integral to Chinese swill as artificial berry flavoring is to Bacardi Breezers.
These benefits aside, one obvious drawback of adding formaldehyde to any product remains painfully clear: formaldehyde is a known carcinogen. Regardless of the impact on beer prices or production, eliminating the presence of known carcinogenic substances from products made for consumption is an important cause; one that Shanghaiist believes should be strictly enforced.