Kiwi reflects on startling Shanghai contrasts
By Julia Hollingsworth |
May 21, 2013, Tuesday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
BEFORE I left for Shanghai in March, people's comments to me generally fell into two camps. The first kept pointing out that, at 5-foot, 9 inches I might be rather tall in China. I believe the word "tower" was used on several occasions.
The second camp would stare at me, concerned, muttering things about Communism and rabies and milk containing dangerous chemicals. It was suggested that in China I would be under constant surveillance and would need to remain vigilant against the hoards of rabid monkeys and bats that could fly down from the skyscrapers and attack at any moment.
In fact, I continued to get e-mails from family members with undertones of panic: "Do keep safe, won't you, Julia?"
But rather than feeling claustrophobic and on edge, I've found Shanghai to be the land of the free, the place where anything's possible - even finding clothes and shoes for a 5'9" girl.
Over my time in the city, under two months, I've had a massage from legally blind man, ridden a gondola while sitting next to a turtle in a bucket, and I've seen a man wearing a tracksuit spin dough into a noodle just by dancing, gone to the marriage market, visited a Hello Kitty café and bartered a man down from 140 yuan (US$22) to 15 for a watch. I've eaten chicken feet, pig's intestines, hot pot and dumplings, but also sampled foie gras, Texas BBQ and oysters.
New Zealand may have fresh air and an absence of food scandals, but Shanghai has innovations I didn't even know existed. Outdoor escalators, taxis with video screens, Sherpas to deliver whatever your heart desires to your doorstep, no matter the hour.
And once you've had your fill, you can have a cocktail on the 91st floor of the tallest building, or go to a club where Ukrainian dancers prance around wearing corsets and fake fur jackets, or even get your hair cut at midnight.
Colorful chaos
I've spent a lot of time wandering the old, leafy streets in a love-struck daze, thinking "this is the life," but there have also been occasions that caused me to swear loudly in public, and rue the day I decided to come to China.
Mostly, these were when I attempted to do something administrative: trying to withdraw money from an ATM only to have my card rejected multiple times.
There was also the time I mispronounced Weihai Lu as Huaihai Lu to a taxi driver, and the time I found myself stranded in Pudong, one hour from the office, with only 2 kuai (yuan) to my name. Surprisingly, only the former (stranding in Pudong) ended in tears.
And sometimes, the very colorful chaos of East meets West that made me love Shanghai in the first place got too much. A trip to the Yuyuan Garden on a public holiday, for instance, was a truly horrible experience.
The crowds full of people spitting, shop owners selling tacky toys and tourists taking photos of me became too much, and I ended up aborting my adventure.
But while my impression of Shanghai is that of a world of endless possibilities - with a few mostly language-related frustrations - it soon began eminently clear that my experience was not that of most people living in Shanghai.
As an example, I stayed with friends living in a lane house where we were never short of space. But barely 50 meters away, an elderly woman was living in a dirty shed. In lieu of a living room, she sat on the street, dozing off in her wicker chair.
When I went for a coffee at the nearby Wagas, located beneath designer brand shops, I passed a woman begging, with amputated legs. While I jaunted around in taxis, excitedly calculating how cheap they were in New Zealand dollars, most people were in the oppressive crush of the Metro on their long commute home. It was certainly a wake-up call that though I might be living a life more stimulating and crazy than my life in New Zealand, some people were much worse off.
But ultimately, those contrasts are what I love most about Shanghai, what keeps it constantly interesting and surprising. Though New Zealanders try to generalize about China, I've learned that, in a country of 1.3 billion, there's an exception to every sweeping statement.
(Julia Hollingsworth was a New Zealand intern at Shanghai Daily. She can be reached at julia.holli@gmail.com.)
The second camp would stare at me, concerned, muttering things about Communism and rabies and milk containing dangerous chemicals. It was suggested that in China I would be under constant surveillance and would need to remain vigilant against the hoards of rabid monkeys and bats that could fly down from the skyscrapers and attack at any moment.
In fact, I continued to get e-mails from family members with undertones of panic: "Do keep safe, won't you, Julia?"
But rather than feeling claustrophobic and on edge, I've found Shanghai to be the land of the free, the place where anything's possible - even finding clothes and shoes for a 5'9" girl.
Over my time in the city, under two months, I've had a massage from legally blind man, ridden a gondola while sitting next to a turtle in a bucket, and I've seen a man wearing a tracksuit spin dough into a noodle just by dancing, gone to the marriage market, visited a Hello Kitty café and bartered a man down from 140 yuan (US$22) to 15 for a watch. I've eaten chicken feet, pig's intestines, hot pot and dumplings, but also sampled foie gras, Texas BBQ and oysters.
New Zealand may have fresh air and an absence of food scandals, but Shanghai has innovations I didn't even know existed. Outdoor escalators, taxis with video screens, Sherpas to deliver whatever your heart desires to your doorstep, no matter the hour.
And once you've had your fill, you can have a cocktail on the 91st floor of the tallest building, or go to a club where Ukrainian dancers prance around wearing corsets and fake fur jackets, or even get your hair cut at midnight.
Colorful chaos
I've spent a lot of time wandering the old, leafy streets in a love-struck daze, thinking "this is the life," but there have also been occasions that caused me to swear loudly in public, and rue the day I decided to come to China.
Mostly, these were when I attempted to do something administrative: trying to withdraw money from an ATM only to have my card rejected multiple times.
There was also the time I mispronounced Weihai Lu as Huaihai Lu to a taxi driver, and the time I found myself stranded in Pudong, one hour from the office, with only 2 kuai (yuan) to my name. Surprisingly, only the former (stranding in Pudong) ended in tears.
And sometimes, the very colorful chaos of East meets West that made me love Shanghai in the first place got too much. A trip to the Yuyuan Garden on a public holiday, for instance, was a truly horrible experience.
The crowds full of people spitting, shop owners selling tacky toys and tourists taking photos of me became too much, and I ended up aborting my adventure.
But while my impression of Shanghai is that of a world of endless possibilities - with a few mostly language-related frustrations - it soon began eminently clear that my experience was not that of most people living in Shanghai.
As an example, I stayed with friends living in a lane house where we were never short of space. But barely 50 meters away, an elderly woman was living in a dirty shed. In lieu of a living room, she sat on the street, dozing off in her wicker chair.
When I went for a coffee at the nearby Wagas, located beneath designer brand shops, I passed a woman begging, with amputated legs. While I jaunted around in taxis, excitedly calculating how cheap they were in New Zealand dollars, most people were in the oppressive crush of the Metro on their long commute home. It was certainly a wake-up call that though I might be living a life more stimulating and crazy than my life in New Zealand, some people were much worse off.
But ultimately, those contrasts are what I love most about Shanghai, what keeps it constantly interesting and surprising. Though New Zealanders try to generalize about China, I've learned that, in a country of 1.3 billion, there's an exception to every sweeping statement.
(Julia Hollingsworth was a New Zealand intern at Shanghai Daily. She can be reached at julia.holli@gmail.com.)
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