Staying active as one ages gracefully
By Feng Jianmin |
November 4, 2010, Thursday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
WHAT will you be doing at age 83? For Tang Jiuying, who has hit that golden age, the answer is selling flowers. She peddles gardenias and other fragrant small blooms from underneath a shop roof on Nanjing Road W., near a Metro station exit.
Almost every day, Tang arrives at her usual place with a portable stool and a small basket covered by a blue, dampened cotton cloth. Underneath are the small flowers that send out alluring fragrances to passers-by.
Shanghai residents in their late 20s may still remember when they were young and the plum rain season was about to start. Flower ladies would come to the lanes with their baskets. They all sang the same little tune to attract customers, and they all used a piece of blue cotton cloth to protect their delicate flowers.
Customers, usually women, would pay 0.50 yuan to buy a pair of the flowers, and pin them on their shirts. That was the quintessential fragrance of early summer in Shanghai.
But in more recent years, the little street-side flower-sellers are disappearing in the city. Nowadays, young women who want fragrance buy perfumes, and the street vendors who persist are more interested in selling DVDs and other high-tech merchandise. The humble flower ladies of yore are being squeezed out by a modern metropolis on the go.
Tang is one of the few who remain, if not perhaps even the oldest. She keeps an old tradition alive, come sun or rain, heat or chill.
Tang has been selling flowers on Nanjing Road W. for seven years. Almost every day between April and November, she takes a 45-minute bus trip from home to sit on her stool and hawk natural fragrance.
"I really feel bored staying at home," she explained. "Besides, I still want to make some money while I am healthy. I always sleep so well after a day's work."
Tang retired from a textile factory more than 20 years ago and now receives a pension of about 2,000 yuan (US$300) a month. Two of her five sons, both in their 50s, were laid off some 10 years ago and are currently out of work.
"My oldest son is over 60 years old, and he already has a grandchild," she said. "The children have their own difficulties in supporting their families. I feel proud to be able to support myself and give some money to my sons sometimes."
Tang is now living in Luwan District with her youngest son in a shikumen, or traditional Shanghai-style residential building. They rent a room for 400 yuan a month.
She was relocated to suburban Taopu Area more than 10 years ago after her old home in the downtown area was demolished to make way for urban redevelopment. She subsequently sold her apartment on the sixth floor in the hopes of buying another one on a lower level. But when a unit finally became available, home prices had soared beyond her means. For her, selling flowers is the best way to forget that disappointment.
"Elders like me often get sick because they stay at home and brood about their troubles," she said. "I don't have any problems with my heart or blood or internal organs because I'm always happy here, meeting people and selling flowers."
She charges two yuan for a pair of flowers and offers discounts when people buy more. She said it costs her dozens of yuan to buy a batch of flowers, which may be sold out in a day or two.
"My son now comes every afternoon to see if he needs to buy more flowers for me from the market," she said. "These flowers wither quickly. They won't last for more than three days even though I keep them moist all day and store them in the fridge at night."
In early summer and autumn, when the weather is pleasant and flower varieties abundant, she said she sometimes earns as much as 200 yuan a day. But with the coming of cooler, rainier autumn weather, her daily income has fallen to about 30 yuan.
Tang doesn't have a business license and doesn't pay tax. For her, the secret to selling is being friendly with people. She's luckier than most street vendors because she is set up under the roof of a shop, affording her some protection from the elements.
Maintaining a good relationship with the shop assistants and the chengguan, or urban management staff who check permits and remove unlicensed vendors, is essential, she said.
"Everybody here is earning their bowl of rice," she said. "The shop assistants won't drive you away unless you affect their business. The chengguan are not looking for trouble either. They shoo away street venders because city officials sometimes come here to check up on their work. When that happens, if I don't move, both the staff and I will be in trouble."
Tang said she always obeys what the watchdogs tell her to do and never creates trouble for the shop whose roof shelters her.
"It's about the working class helping the working class," she said. "During the cultural revolution (1966-1976), I was among the few who dared to help the persecuted. I told people that it made no sense to mistreat co-workers."
She practices Buddhism at home and believes there is justice in the world. For her, quede people, or people who lack merit, will eventually get their just desserts.
"I am not unhappy if people look but don't buy my flowers," she said. "But if a group of four people come to my stand and three are interested in buying, it is quede if the fourth person tries to talk them out of it."
Looking ahead at the onset of winter, Tang gets a bit downcast. She will have to give up flower-selling until spring.
"I will be mostly staying at home, sleeping and doing nothing," she said. "But sometimes I may go to the Huangpu River with my family to watch ships and boats. I've always loved watching ships."
Almost every day, Tang arrives at her usual place with a portable stool and a small basket covered by a blue, dampened cotton cloth. Underneath are the small flowers that send out alluring fragrances to passers-by.
Shanghai residents in their late 20s may still remember when they were young and the plum rain season was about to start. Flower ladies would come to the lanes with their baskets. They all sang the same little tune to attract customers, and they all used a piece of blue cotton cloth to protect their delicate flowers.
Customers, usually women, would pay 0.50 yuan to buy a pair of the flowers, and pin them on their shirts. That was the quintessential fragrance of early summer in Shanghai.
But in more recent years, the little street-side flower-sellers are disappearing in the city. Nowadays, young women who want fragrance buy perfumes, and the street vendors who persist are more interested in selling DVDs and other high-tech merchandise. The humble flower ladies of yore are being squeezed out by a modern metropolis on the go.
Tang is one of the few who remain, if not perhaps even the oldest. She keeps an old tradition alive, come sun or rain, heat or chill.
Tang has been selling flowers on Nanjing Road W. for seven years. Almost every day between April and November, she takes a 45-minute bus trip from home to sit on her stool and hawk natural fragrance.
"I really feel bored staying at home," she explained. "Besides, I still want to make some money while I am healthy. I always sleep so well after a day's work."
Tang retired from a textile factory more than 20 years ago and now receives a pension of about 2,000 yuan (US$300) a month. Two of her five sons, both in their 50s, were laid off some 10 years ago and are currently out of work.
"My oldest son is over 60 years old, and he already has a grandchild," she said. "The children have their own difficulties in supporting their families. I feel proud to be able to support myself and give some money to my sons sometimes."
Tang is now living in Luwan District with her youngest son in a shikumen, or traditional Shanghai-style residential building. They rent a room for 400 yuan a month.
She was relocated to suburban Taopu Area more than 10 years ago after her old home in the downtown area was demolished to make way for urban redevelopment. She subsequently sold her apartment on the sixth floor in the hopes of buying another one on a lower level. But when a unit finally became available, home prices had soared beyond her means. For her, selling flowers is the best way to forget that disappointment.
"Elders like me often get sick because they stay at home and brood about their troubles," she said. "I don't have any problems with my heart or blood or internal organs because I'm always happy here, meeting people and selling flowers."
She charges two yuan for a pair of flowers and offers discounts when people buy more. She said it costs her dozens of yuan to buy a batch of flowers, which may be sold out in a day or two.
"My son now comes every afternoon to see if he needs to buy more flowers for me from the market," she said. "These flowers wither quickly. They won't last for more than three days even though I keep them moist all day and store them in the fridge at night."
In early summer and autumn, when the weather is pleasant and flower varieties abundant, she said she sometimes earns as much as 200 yuan a day. But with the coming of cooler, rainier autumn weather, her daily income has fallen to about 30 yuan.
Tang doesn't have a business license and doesn't pay tax. For her, the secret to selling is being friendly with people. She's luckier than most street vendors because she is set up under the roof of a shop, affording her some protection from the elements.
Maintaining a good relationship with the shop assistants and the chengguan, or urban management staff who check permits and remove unlicensed vendors, is essential, she said.
"Everybody here is earning their bowl of rice," she said. "The shop assistants won't drive you away unless you affect their business. The chengguan are not looking for trouble either. They shoo away street venders because city officials sometimes come here to check up on their work. When that happens, if I don't move, both the staff and I will be in trouble."
Tang said she always obeys what the watchdogs tell her to do and never creates trouble for the shop whose roof shelters her.
"It's about the working class helping the working class," she said. "During the cultural revolution (1966-1976), I was among the few who dared to help the persecuted. I told people that it made no sense to mistreat co-workers."
She practices Buddhism at home and believes there is justice in the world. For her, quede people, or people who lack merit, will eventually get their just desserts.
"I am not unhappy if people look but don't buy my flowers," she said. "But if a group of four people come to my stand and three are interested in buying, it is quede if the fourth person tries to talk them out of it."
Looking ahead at the onset of winter, Tang gets a bit downcast. She will have to give up flower-selling until spring.
"I will be mostly staying at home, sleeping and doing nothing," she said. "But sometimes I may go to the Huangpu River with my family to watch ships and boats. I've always loved watching ships."
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