EDITOR’S Note:

Human development in the past century has been dramatic, but it seems that the faster we go forward, the more we become interested in the past. Minhang, covering 370 square kilometers, is a tiny spot on the map, but it looms large as a bellwether of both change and nostalgia. Shanghai Daily has compiled the stories of Minhang locals to record the history of the district in a new series entitled “Minhang Geographic.” The stories are told in the voices of those sharing their memories. In this installment, Qibao residents Wu Shusheng and Jin Jiuniu recall the evolution of their hometown.

Qibao Old Town no longer be­longs only to local residents. It’s a popular scenic area of Shanghai that draws thou­sands of visitors. People come and people go, wearing the cobblestone streets just a little thinner with their footsteps.

For many, their most memorable experience in the town is eating the local tangyuan (glutinous rice balls simmered in boiling water). But for local residents born and raised here, the town evokes different impressions and different experiences.

Wu Shusheng lived on the banks of the Puhuitang River for years, growing up with the belief that the waterway protected the town, which has never flooded.

He recalls swimming, fishing, hunting and fetching water for the household from the river.

“Until tap water was introduced in the 1950s, residents depended on the river for their daily life,” Wu said. “Big, wealthy families owned big water vats, while common families used wooden water barrels. People used shoulder poles to carry water from the river to pour into the vessels.”

Of course, the water was not potable. It was necessary to add alum to purify it for drinking. Children de­lighted in throwing handfuls of alum into the water and stirring it with a stick until impurities subsided to the bottom, he said.

Living by the river meant that almost all local children there were good swimmers. Wu said he doesn’t even recall how he learned to swim. It just seemed to come naturally. The braver children used to love jumping from the bridge five or six meters to the water below.

During 1959-61, a period of great famine in China, children scoured the river for fish and other aquatic life or stole vegetables from passing barges.

Back then, there was a vegetable and fruit company near the No. 7 Bridge, Wu recalled. Boats from the Songji­ang District would stop there before traveling to the downtown area. When the barges docked in Qibao, hungry children waiting on the riverbank would swam out and pinch melons, escaping underwater with their booty. Sometimes they were caught by boat owners, who knew the children were hungry and didn’t press charges.

“When children stole a pumpkin, they would cut it into slices and roast it over a fire in the fields,” said Wu. “That was really the most delicious thing you could ever taste.”

By the end of the 1970s, life in Qibao was changing. China started opening up to the world and people had more choices in life.

Still, fishing remained a prime live­lihood in that era. Every year, when the rainy season came, water from irrigation ditches in fields would flow into the Puhuitang River. Where the nutrient-rich effluent met the river water was the prime spot for fishing.

It didn’t take much to catch the fish. People set up four bamboo poles, tied the four corners of fishing nets onto the poles, and submerged the nets. When the nets were raised, they were full of splashing fish. Carp was a common dish on local dinner tables.

“Nowadays you can still see people fishing the Puhuitang, but it’s mostly just for recreation,” said Wu.

Visitors may rave about local Qibao specialties like tangyuan, mutton and maybe crabapple cake, but residents look at their local cuisine somewhat differently.

Jin Jiuniu, a writer living in the town for decades, said he most loved local bean curd cooked in a variety of ways.

One of his favorites, deep-fried dried bean curd, is no longer com­monly found. Jin still remembers its fragrant softness and crispy outside. It was used both in meals and as snacks.

Another old favorite, bean curd jelly soup, remains popular in Qibao, but Jin said the original flavor has changed.

“We had so many more varieties of toppings for the jelly soup when we were young,” said Jin. “There were dried shrimp, black fungus, pickles, chopped spring onions and others. Today you are lucky to find one or two.”

Seasonal treats particularly stick in the memory because everyone waited for months to enjoy them again.

Every spring, there was an old man selling roasted chicken and hare on Tangqiao Bridge, Jin said. Another popular favorite was smoked toad, which has completely disappeared because of cases of food poisoning. In winter’s cold, freshly baked sweet potatoes warmed stomachs.

“Thinking of these foods still makes my mouth water,” said Jin.

Teahouses are one icon of the past that remain.

According to the Qibao archives, there were six teahouses in the town and four of them hosted traditional performances of pingtan, the folk art of storytelling in the Suzhou dia­lect. During the cultural revolution (1966-76), all the performances were cancelled and didn’t resume until 1978.

“In an era when information was scarce, teahouses were places full of stories,” said Jin. “Apart from listen­ing to pingtan, residents exchanged their own stories as well. From politics to neighborhood gossip, the topics were endless.”

In 2000, Qibao Old Street was restored and the landmark Qibao Teahouse was expanded. Pingtan is still performed there, and many older residents delightfully sit in the teahouse for half a day, just like they did in the past. They liken the ambi­ence of teahouse friendship circles to the online chat groups now favored by the young.

Both Wu and Jin are frequent visitors to the teahouses, where they can enjoy the memories of the past and the tranquility of the present as change around them propels their town to the future.

“As long as the teahouse is still here, it is the Qibao I love,” said Jin.