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| An Ohioan Visits Shanghai, 2007 By
Wes Boomgaarden, Columbus, Ohio, USA
Walking the streets of Shanghai in late January of this year, I searched for the words to describe this city to my octogenarian parents, who are still thriving in rural Minnesota. They were perplexed as to why I would leave a perfectly good home in comfortable Ohio to travel halfway across the world to a communist country. Besides, there are no other Boomgaardens to visit in China: visiting relatives is the primary motivation for travel when you’re from rural Minnesota. Dad
had some reason to be skeptical of his second son going to Shanghai.
Shanghai was a port of call for him when he served in the U.S.
Navy during the WWII, in 1945, shortly after the Japanese Imperial
Army had been removed from an ugly occupation of the city. He
did not have particularly fond memories of liberated Shanghai.
Mom sent me a snapshot dated 1945 of Dad and his buddy sitting
in a Shanghainese rickshaw. Mom was never too sure about that
rickshaw or its city. I visited Shanghai for a month beginning in late January 2007, as part of an Ohio State University Libraries–Shanghai Library exchange program. My time was spent primarily in that city, but I was able to make very brief, interesting side trips to both Wuhan and Beijing, which gave me some very enjoyable interactions with librarians and other Chinese in these three places. At times I fancied myself a 21st-century Tocqueville, as if I any solitary middle-aged American traveler could actually understand an ancient culture and an ultramodern city in a brief, four-week visit. Impossible, of course, but it was a very interesting role to for me to pretend to play. In contrast, I was eager to understand the Shanghainese, and if they were indeed different from the Chinese I had studied as an undergraduate during the years of their Cultural Revolution. This is no communist society. Capitalism and the making of money are, on the surface, the dominant ethic.
Shanghai continues to grow rapidly and attracts new residents from everywhere. There are many Westerners in Shanghai, too. They seem to notice each other on the streets, even after they become well accustomed to being among a very small minority in this land; they often nod to each other, acknowledging some (racial) bond. Westerners are in Shanghai for a variety of good reasons, most of which relate to the making of money. The Chinese economy has our attention: in the West not a week goes by that we don’t hear or read news stories about the China and its booming economy. As one who lived for a few years in the city of New York, I found myself frequently comparing and contrasting our Big Apple with this largest city in China. After a few weeks of walking Shanghai, riding its public transit systems, visiting its sites, enjoying its lovely parks, and sitting white-knuckled in a few taxis, I weighed the two cities on the scales against each other almost constantly. Both are great cities, no question, and one can love them both. Our word “civilization” has its origin in the Greek, and means “the art of living in cities.” The Shanghainese manage the art very skillfully, and one senses a harmony even in a very crowded environment. The
Shanghainese I was often a solo traveler who had no host for some days at a time, and I came to fashion myself as a modern-day Tocqueville, trying to understand my host country as if I truly were there to re-write his book in this new setting. I found it always interesting to do this, even as I was ethnically the odd man almost wherever I ventured. Paradoxically, I felt almost always to invisible here, on the streets, in the subway, in the shops, everywhere. Only when I ventured into the domain of the affluent Western tourist, did I become visible, and then only to the scourge of Shanghai: the faux Rolex street dealer. There is, of course, a language barrier. A more accurate way to describe this is that most Americans (and I am among them) don’t learn enough of the local language to really converse with local people. In my case, my 18-lesson Pimsleur® Mandarin audio course was, well, helpful, but it didn’t allow me to engage in the type of casual small talk and banter that makes traveling so much more fun. Zhou Qing, one of my contacts, opined that I speak with a Beijing accent. I was gratified by this comment, grateful that he didn't say I sounded like Ole or Sven or some other guy from Minnesota. As a pretty good mimic, I was able to get by in restaurants, obtain haircuts, secure movie tickets, ask directions (even to understand the response some of the time), and to thank people whenever I could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible for me to inquire in Mandarin or the Shanghai dialect of how my acquaintance really felt about a topic, the news, personal life details, or anything, unless he or she spoke English. Thankfully, many, many young people (under 40) speak English and speak it quite willingly and well. This very much enhanced the experience. When I was able to engage residents in a conversation, I relished every opportunity and every response. I asked about how folks now think of Chairman Mao Zedong? (Opinions about Mao are generally vaguely positive or noncommittal. But Deng Xiaoping, who began the economic reforms, is a real hero. I never heard a discouraging word about Comrade Deng.) I asked what do you or (more likely, your parents) have to say about the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (1966-1976)? (It was an unmitigated disaster, source of real fear for everyone, and generally an embarrassment.) How is access to health care? (They have many of the same problems we have.) Does everyone in your family have work? (No, some are chronically unemployed because of the closure of government-run factories which are unable to compete with private ventures. Getting a good job is not easy.) What are your ambitions for advancement in your career? (It depends upon how my manager likes me and my work.) Eating
and Drinking When traveling solo, my favorite approach to getting a meal was by grazing: going from street vendor to green grocer to street vendor, feasting on skewers of lamb, pork, chicken, squid; then fresh fruits; then dumplings, cakes, sticky rice, and more as I walked. Even with approach, I eluded all food-borne illnesses, and felt lucky.
Most Shanghainese get most of their groceries from nearby street markets, but there are Western-style supermarkets, too. I heartily recommend visiting the Carrefour store in the Gubei section in the western part of the city. Built many years ago to serve European and American ex-pats, Carrefour’s five-level store is brimming with products. It is equal parts street market, bazaar, county fair, circus, food court, bakery, and supermarket. American supermarkets are tame indeed in comparison. Imagine getting free samples of Dewar’s Scotch whiskey at the local Kroger counter, or hearing carnival-style vendors loudly selling competing cookware.
For the Westerner, food is still relative inexpensive in Shanghai. A sandwich in a bar might be 20 Yuan (renminbi, the Chinese currency), but a pint of Guinness in the same establishment might be three times that, at 60 Yuan. (One Yuan is about $.13.) One can eat a fine meal in a good restaurant for well under 100 Yuan. Western franchise restaurants (Papa John’s, TGI Friday, KFC) seem to be more expensive that local fare, and they are very popular in Shanghai. The Shanghainese love to drink green tea, but the consumption of coffee is increasing, notably among young adults. There are several Starbucks cafes throughout the city, but my favorite source for caffeine was a popular Mr Donut shop on the Central Huai Hai Road, about a mile east of where I stayed in the old French Concession. Mr Donut is a wonderful neighborhood gathering spot for locals, and the generations mixed here in a beautiful way, with children do their school lessons while the parents and grandparents chat over coffee and tea (and donuts). The
Tourist Experience on the Street Nevertheless, the pedestrian (tourist or local) is the lowest life form on the Shanghai street. Good peripheral vision is essential to make one aware of the motorized two-wheeled traffic and bicycles coming from both behind and in front on what one once considered his own sidewalk. At intersections with vehicular traffic are placed nicely marked crosswalks with modern electric “walk” and “don’t walk” universal symbols. Like the green, amber and red traffic lights, they are but suggestions and warnings to the walker to look both ways not once, not twice, but three times before he ventures across the street. Truly, pedestrians’ rights are limited. Yet one sees little anger displayed in intersections, and little anger even in the very competitive and congested traffic milieu. Even as horns bray constantly, there is little evidence of “road rage.” One sees no Ratzo Rizzo pounding on the hood of an aggressive taxicab to reclaim his pedestrian right to the crosswalk. People cope with the dense, hectic traffic situations without much outward display of anger. Where only a few years ago the bicycle was the most prominent vehicle, the internal combustion engine now rules. It's remarkable how few collisions there are, though. I think it relates to the horns and bells with which most are equipped and used. Taxicab drivers, of course, get paid based upon the number of kilometers they drive. Bus drivers appear to get paid by the distance they cover per minute, and are highly aggressive in moving their passengers. It’s great fun to be a passenger; it’s less fun to be a lowly pedestrian. Nevertheless, there are lots of pedestrians, lots of us on foot, and probably even more on two- and three-wheeled conveyances. I’m told that the numbers of cars has dramatically increased in the past few years, and they must certainly outnumber the bicycles and tricycles. Many more Shanghainese want automobiles, but it’s hard to see how this increase is sustainable for the city. During my visit (in cool January and February) I made a rough estimate that about 3% of the population wears surgical masks to protect themselves from either cold or viruses. I don’t know the percentage of Shanghainese who have viruses or the sniffles, but they are prodigious producers of phlegm. My unscientific estimate is that as many as 62% of the population regularly expectorates on the street. I must say that I had some difficulty getting accustomed to the sound and the fury of this practice. But I was but a visitor. Who am I to judge? Taxicabs are plentiful and cheap. I noticed the system they have for indicating the relative experience of cabbies. The most experienced driver has five stars on his posted ID photo permit; the least experienced driver, one star. In my many cab trips, never saw a permit with more than one star. The Shanghai Metro system is terrific: modern, automated, fast, inexpensive, and clean. It is, at times, exceedingly crowded, too, when they employ the whistle-bearing officers to help load the cars to keep the system moving. The Shanghai Metro is the most effective means of getting around Shanghai quickly and easily. Interestingly,
Shanghai and – I’m told, China as a whole –
have not developed queuing habits and protocols. Lines don’t
naturally form for goods and services, and there is a visible
rush and chaos to this. One day during my visit the China Daily
covered a story of “queuing lessons” being offered
in Beijing, to prepare the locals for how to queue for buses when
they host tens of thousands of Olympic visitors in 2008. The article
didn’t sound very hopeful that the new habits would take
by then. I experienced a bit of the alternatives to queuing when
I traveled on overnight trains to Beijing and back. Great experience,
the train, but the crush of people during the Spring Festival
travel period was daunting for me. In many parks, each morning many older people gather to do tai chi. On Sundays, many adults gather to do ballroom dancing with Western dance music. Others gather in groups of maybe a hundred to sing patriot or folk songs, led by what looks to be a professional well-equipped to do this. The
Sights
Spring
Festival I
had the desire to get out of Shanghai to visit the cities of Nanjing,
Hangzhou, Suzhou and others, but the crowds of people using the
rail system to return home for the Spring Festival made these
side trips impossible for me. When I traveled to Beijing on the
overnight train 10 days prior to the Spring Festival, Shanghai’s
Rail Station Square and Beijing’s main station looked like
the entire populations of these cities were evacuating, with travelers
carrying every type of luggage and container with them for their
annual trip’s homeward. Nevertheless, my trip by overnight
"soft sleeper" train to and from Beijing proved to be
a relatively comfortable means of travel.
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