Days 36 - 37: Shanghai

We'd been walking for an hour in the wrong direction, with the unfortunate circumstance being that we didn't know it was wrong, but had a sneaking suspicion for all sixty of those minutes. I guess that is always the case?  And each minute felt like it was taking longer to pass, as we were harassed about every 50 meters with:

"Bag. Purse. Sungrasses.  Gucciprada.....Where you from?"

I am wearing completely impractical shoes and jeans that, all of a sudden, feel like they were cut from a flak jacket.  

Once we figure out that we were actually walking the wrong way down Nanjing road - towards the People's Square instead of the Bund - we put our game faces on and decided to flip flop the days itinerary and do the Shanghai Art Museum first, lunch and putzing around the Bund afterwards. 

Signs here occasionally have English-characters on them, but even these seem to be hard to remember. You forget what you are looking for between the road sign and finding the place on the map.  Did I want Fengxian Lu or Fuxing Xi Lu?  So even once we decided to head to the museum, it still took another 30 minutes to figure out practical things like how to cross the road, which of the giant, official looking buildings in the square was the right museum, and even - silly as this sounds - the museum entrance.  And unlike everywhere we've been before, the Shanghainese seem to know as much English as I know of their language - namely Ni Hao/Hello and Xie Xie/Thank You. 

I am happy to report that this hour and a half represented the nadir of our experience in Shanghai.  In fact, China is quite the surprise.

I expected a big Hanoi - in part because I think of China as a developing country, and in part because many people told us we wouldn't care for Shanghai.  People told us it was dirty, lacked culture.  And for some reason, people who have been to China always recount their personal experience with others spitting, throwing trash out and pooping on the street.  

So two things about this preconceived bit of cultural chauvinism are somewhat right: this city is damn big and this city is light on cultural landmarks.  But I was overwhelmed by what I got wrong.  Where are all the people on bikes? Where is the culture of bureaucracy? 

This is a wealthy city.  A pretty efficient city.  I was struck time and again, by a feeling that this place could even be an American city.  I know this is a weird thing to say, for a lot of reasons, but I just couldn't shake it.  I submit the following as evidence:

• A neat, orderly customs process.  The officer greeted us with a smile; it took no time to swipe our passports at the counter; there was even a little device where I could rate my experience: Satisfied!  This made the Chinese Embassy in NYC look like a dump.
• The free, interesting, bite-sized Shanghai Art museum.  A very clear reminder of a distinct aesthetic culture that consistently emphasizes tradition over innovation.

 

• A terrific and diverse restaurant scene. This includes deliciously civil Fu 1039 dishing up Shanghainese fare; Lost Heaven, a mod "sip and sup" joint that would have been just as fitting in the West Village; and various upscale eateries with fabulous views along the Bund
  
• Overtly restored and/or hyper groomed neighborhoods.  For example - People's Square, the Bund, the Covent Garden-like Xintiandi or the new artsy M50 collective of galleries and working artists' lofts (see below).  All I could think of, is "this shit takes money."

Of course this almost-an-America feeling is my poor shorthand for something else.  I mean to say that Shanghai is a sophisticated place.  Its a wealthy place.  Its a very developed part of a country that is rapidly on the rise.  

We almost missed the other part of the city, and surely would have, had we not decided to walk back to our hotel having just finished our afternoon of gallery hopping. We walked for an hour, somewhat southwesterly past giant open lots, waiting for the next condominium to be put up, past already condominiumed lots, with private gates and guards outside.  These gave way to 1920s era row houses, with old men squatting outside them, and younger men inside piling up scrap metal, repairing old bikes, or sorting through collected demolition scraps.  We passed a woman carrying a too-heavy baby what looked like a long way.  And a mo-ped that seemed to have been armored with computers and printer parts circa 1982.  

Ducking under clothing put out to dry, or under bamboo scaffolds latticing up the side of a new project, it was a long walk. But one that showed me another very real side of Shanghai.  

And still, not the one I had expected.