Tag Archive for '%e5%bc%84%e5%a0%82'

25
Apr

Book Review and Giveaway of “Shanghai Shikumen” (上海里弄文化地图)

By Sue Anne 21 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications, The Fading Vestige and What I Am Reading

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UPDATE: Congratulations to Patrick, the 10th commentator! Random.org picked you out of 18 commenators. Drop me an email via the contact sheet and I will dispatch the book to you!

Thanks again to everyone who participated! For those who are in Shanghai, remember to pick up a copy! Amazon.cn has it on sale.

** I am giving one free copy to a lucky reader regardless of where you are in the world. Leave a comment below about yourself and why you’d like a copy. Entries close 5 minutes before midnight May 3, Beijing time. I will pick the winner at random. **

(欢迎中文读者！如果想用中文来看博科，可以在右边点下翻译钮 “Blog translated”)。 我会选出一位幸运读者送出《上海里弄文化地图》的一本书。请在博客文章下留下个人发言，介绍自己。比赛5月3日半夜停止。我会随机选择。)

For me, the hardest thing about documenting Shanghai’s ubiquitous lilong (or lanes) residences and shikumen isn’t the tedious amount of time invested in research and photographing them, but surprise, surprise, actually finding the hidden gems.

While there is substantial and organized information on Shanghai’s western architecture thanks to dedicated archivists including Tess Johnston and Paul French, there is no equivalent English directory for the hundreds of Shanghai shikumen and lanes, which is a challenge given their rate of demolition.

As an outsider without initimate knowledge of the city, I depend a great deal on the internet, Google maps and collecting anecdotes from residents to piece together the what, where and whys.

There was one key source I often turned to – a photographer on Flicker and the Chinese equivalent, Douban who went by the name of Gropius (the famous German architect who pioneered the Bauhaus School) or Xi Zi (席子). His work was a treasure trove of beautiful shikumen and lanes that I never knew existed, along with names and addresses, which I would use to guide myself around the city. He was receptive to questions and had a large Shanghainese following online.

A few years ago, while shooting in a heap of what used to be a beautiful structure in Hongkou, I met a man in his late 30s, early 40s doing the same thing. Lo and behold, it was Xi Zi.

We became friends and I’d meet up with him on several occasions to shoot and even interviewed him for the blog. He almost never used a map and knew of hidden spots that even local Shanghainese had no idea existed. He photographed the same places over and over again, mapping a timeline of their demise.

After 5 years of continuous shooting, Xi Zi (whose full name is Xi Wenlei (席闻雷)) and his good friend Jiang Qinggong (姜庆共) (or Lao Jiang as he calls himself, a well-known publisher of history and the arts) have finally put out one of the best photo books on Shanghai shikumen that you’ll ever find. Both authors grew up in shikumens and as Xi Zi once said to me, for the younger generation, the shikumen will be just a concept as many of them have never lived in one.

“Shanghai Shikumen” or more accurately “Shanghai Lilong Culture and Map” (上海里弄文化地图) condenses explanations and diagrams of various shikumen styles, 40 shikumen lilong travel guides, 400 shikumen lilong directories and 120 accompanying images of both the exteriors and interiors of the shikumen.

Interestingly, Xi and Jiang have chosen to emphasize their work in images rather than in text, a departure from traditional Chinese publishing standards. The best part of the book is the litany of maps (both pre-1949 and the present) that help the tracking and identification of shikumen and lilongs more efficiently. All in both English and Chinese.

For the authors, the book is as much a way to reach out to the younger generation of Shanghainese about their history, as it is appealing to foreigners with a deeper curiosity of the Chinese aspect of Old Shanghai.

That this easily accessible shikumen guide has not been published earlier is baffling to me, which is why I recommend readers to pick up a copy and start exploring as some of these neighborhoods may not be around for too long.

Where to buy

“Shanghai Shikumen” (上海里弄文化地图), 162 pages, March 2012, Tongji University Press (RMB 42)

1. Dukou Bookshop(s) (上海渡口书店)

- 828 Julu Lu, near Fumin Lu, Jingan District 静安区巨鹿路828号, 近富民路

- 245 Madang Lu, B1, Xintiandi Style Mall, 卢湾区马当路245号新天地时尚B1楼

- Online bookstore

2. Link Shanghai Gallery in Tianzifang (搭界)

- No. 5 Lane 248 Taikang Lu, Shanghai 上海市泰康路248弄5号

22
Feb

Winter walking

By Sue Anne 0 Comments
Categories: Street Stories and Take To the Street

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It was only a few weeks ago, the cold and dampness of Shanghai’s winter had gotten to me in the worst possible way.

Hibernation swiftly took over and I stubbornly refused to get out of bed on the weekends. One Saturday afternoon, I woke up groggy, my heart and bones felt heavy as if trying to break out of a funk. I stared out of my window to see overcast skies and a dull fog. Grey seemed to constantly plague my weekends. I crawled back into bed.

I have often thought to myself that there was simply no excuse for bad weather to get in the way of shooting. We are reflecting society as is, and bad weather, warts and all, are exactly that. I knew deep down the most amazing pictures would come out of people fighting rain and cold. Nature versus man! Authenticity! I thought, yet laughing at the absurdity of my city-mindset. I lived in Shanghai, for pete’s sake.

And so it went for days, then weeks.

Then suddenly, there was a buzz around me. Sunshine this coming weekend! A colleague clutched my arm to exclaim. strawberries picking! Window shopping! Hot coffees in the streets! Picnicking!

Satuday came and it was half of what had been promised. Sunshine bathed busy streets. Frowns and hunched backs turned briefly into easy smiles and relaxed postures. I counted on two hands, youngsters snacking on ice-creams even when their breath was visible as they spoke.

In my first hour of walking, the camera felt unwieldy, almost alien in my palm. Still, it felt good to be get my rhythm back, measuring people and distance on my 35mm. Children were screaming as they played thieves and robbers in alleys. Shopkeepers joked back and forth. Loud conversations and the clattering of mahjong tiles drifted out of open windows.

By the 2nd hour, I pressed deeper into alleys and emerging in equally quiet streets where the temperature fell from the absence of bustling human bodies. The soundtrack of the warm afternoon had dimmed. My cheeks were pinched pink from the brisk air and my fingers felt slightly numb even in my gloves.

Adjectives failed me. I was freezing. As the sun slipped back behind clouds and the proverbial mountain, the evening chill forced bodies indoors, leaving only those out with a purpose. Places to go, bellies to be filled.

Bodies began to hunch again and layers piled on you only see eyes and red noses. Another 12 more hours and good weather will be upon all of us again. I was waiting. For Sunday promised to be as brisk but infinitely cheery.

February 2012

04
Jan

A review of 2011 (part three)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications, Off the Streets of Shanghai and Street Stories

This is the third installment of my review of 2011. Picking a favorite story from each month is difficult. All posts take time, including research, photo editing and writing and re-writing each paragraph to the best effect. It can sometimes be tiresome, especially when I would linger on a post for weeks, to the point of it remaining stubbornly unpublished. And believe me, there are quite a few. I sometimes have to revisit the place to jog the memory of the details, smells and sounds.

Yet there are moments which pass you by as quickly as they come. A look, a body movement or a sound can trigger an entire composition never to be recreated ever again.

July: I published a piece on exploring the port architecture of Shantou in Guangdong, where the Old Quarters, while crumbling miserably, is a beautiful place worth visiting. The city is home to Teochews, a dialect group, of which the overseas disapora number over 30 million.

Another favorite is “Reflections at high noon”, a photo essay on the most unknowing inspiration for street photography.

August: I’ve often feature the Chinese street photography collective Zaijietou.com (在街头) as an example of the popularity of street photography among a select few in China. Here, an interview of Chinese and German perspectives on street photography in China.

September: In lieu of blogging, my September was packed with activities. My biggest event was  “The Living Streets of Shanghai and the Hague”, a video exhibit by Shanghai and the Hague’s best street photographers. I co-organized it with  Five Spices, a Dutch design company, and the exhibit was held in Shanghai and subsequently in the Hague.

One of the featured photographers of the above exhibit was Tan Tien Yun, whom I interviewed. Working in the one of the countless factories in Minhang, Tien Yun took the time to take in the the more rural aspects of Shanghai’s suburbs including the local migrant communities.

A review of 2011 (part one) (part two) (part three)

31
Dec

Happy New Year! and 2011 in review (part one)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications, Off the Streets of Shanghai, Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories, Suburbs of Shanghai and The Fading Vestige

In the tradition of pensive reflection of the past year, I present to you the blog’s ”2011 in Review”. Below is the first of four installments rounding up my favorite stories each month. Hopefully this will keep you entertained over the long weekend. You can also read my review for 2010 here.

The pace of old housing demolition in Shanghai has slowed a little in comparison to the frenzied activity prior to the Shanghai World Expo in 2010.  This might be related to the Chinese government’s strict property tightening measures to scale back the real estate bubble, and the general malaise of the global financial crisis. On a positive note, on a recent visit to a half-flattened longtang, residents tell me they are now protected by laws to prevent forcible removal from their properties until all negotiations are complete. While not universally enforced, I am hearted by the small development.

2011 for me has been a significant amount of traveling to new cities and countries. In addition to revisiting Berlin, London and of course, home in Singapore, I visited for the first time Dubai, Seoul (and a very exciting jaunt to the North Korea border!), Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Vietnam. It was a year of new boundaries and new friends and I expect 2012 to be more of the same.

I want to thank regular readers, faithful commentators (you know who you are!) and occassional passers-by for visiting the blog. I occupy a small sliver of space in the vast Internet but work hard to piece together the stories and photos for our mutual pleasure. As always, I welcome your suggestions on how to improve my photography and writing.

My best wishes of good health and happiness to you for the New Year! I leave you with one of my favorite quotes, something I remind myself daily and find very apt for fresh starts in general.

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

January: Meeting Mr Cai (photo above) in Shanghai’s suburbs, whom I have designated “The Happiest Man in Shanghai”, was a fortuitous affair. I am reminded of his cheery optimisim at his old age which warms my heart each time I have a nasty encounter in Shanghai.

February: I was very glad to have documented the beautiful mosaic-tiled public service posters in Ruihua Lane (瑞华坊) which preached good manners and respect amongst the neighborhood’s residents. Unfortunately, the lane has emptied out in anticipation of razing.

On another note, my trip to the very sunny and excessively opulant Dubai.

March: One of my favorite photo essays on discovering life and color in dying neighborhoods undergoing demolishment. This one was in northern Jingan district, which I had rarely visited. Beauty often lies in character, and Shanghai’s old lanes are filled with them. Everytime you pass by an unassuming lane, make it a point to poke your head in.

A special mention of my contribution as co-author (along with Old Shanghai establishments including Tess Johnston) of the book “Still More Shanghai Walks” which we presented at the Shanghai Literary Festival and our booklaunch at the beautiful and quaint Old China Hand Cafe, where it is still available. I covered the former Jewish Ghetto and street markets of Tilanqiao.

A review of 2011 (part two) (part three) (part four)

02
Dec

Confessions in Desheng Lane (德生里)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories and The Fading Vestige

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The entrance into De Sheng Lane (德生里) was like a door into nothingness. Surveying the vast sea of fallen brick and mortar, bleached by the blazing sun, I began treading slowly across the rocky terrain.

De Sheng Lane hugged the corner of Huimin Lu (惠民路) (formerly known as Baikal Road) and Dalian Lu (大连路)(formerly known as Dalny Road). After much reearch, I’ve theorised that it might have been named after Lian Desheng (连德生) (1893一1935) who was the bodyguard of a covert dual agent for the Chinese Communist Party, Yang Dengying (杨登瀛), who spied on the Kuomintang Party. Lian Desheng had previously worked for the British Tram Company located along Huimin Lu, not far from the lane, which leads one to assume he used to live in the area. Unfortunately, I had no one to confirm this with as all of the original residents have left.

While weather-beaten, the lane entrance was beautifully engraved by Qing Shannong (青山农) (1880~1969), a famous writer, painter and calligrapher. The few remaining structures in the longtang (弄堂) appeared to have been well-preserved even before demolition. The reddish brick hues and white outlines were clean and distinct, which made it a bigger shame to see them hollowed out.

Gingerly, I hopped from brick to beam to wood, watching for rusty nails and potential cave-ins. I knew I must have been a silly sight to behold, like an ant lost in a mess of dirt. But I was not alone.

In the distance, an elder woman in her 50s appeared to be sorting bricks. She waved upon seeing me, I could have sworn I saw the briefiest glimmer of her gold tooth reflected in the sun. Or perhaps it was from the brass buttons on her cheery sweater.

From Kaixin, Chongqing, Mrs Wu’s son-in-law owned the rights to the area of Desheng Lane for demolition and cleaning up. I’ve noted over the years that many people in this particular business were from Chongqing, drawing in many relatives and hometown friends to Shanghai, where they’d live and work together. Mrs Wu readily confirmed with a vigorous nod.

“I’m retired and just passing the time, you know,” she added as she deftly picked and separated piles of bricks, often used to refurbish old houses. “Look here, you see? The bricks are very good quality.” She pulled out a sturdy red brick, marked with “1934″ – the year the longtang was built, others were marked ”C.S.”, the manufacturer of the bricks.

At RMB 0.30 a brick redemption (RMB 0.25 for the smaller grey slates), it was quite a lucrative retirement. I joked about pitching in to split profits. She laughed, infectious and hearty, and continued chattering when I asked her if she goes home often. Not since she moved to Shanghai to join her children 9 years ago, she said.

“Although, I was there a few months ago to bury my daughter.”

I stopped, unsure how to respond. I was thrown off by her easy admission, of how her 31-year old second daughter had passed on due to a white blood cell-related disease. She waved her hands to excuse my murmured apologies, as if having sought closure a long time ago. She paused, her smile wavered ever so slightly, and resumed jabbering on about Kaixin, Shanghai, life and everything else in between.  Her husband, Mr Wu, and another neighbor later joined us, and minutes became an hour of folksy tales and shared photographs.

I noticed that some people that I have met in Shanghai, especially those far from their hometowns, shared details of their lives very easily. There were always stories of children left behind, mouths to feed, mortgages to pay and family members who were ill or even missing. They bury the stress on a daily basis, which forms a tightness in their chest that swells and gush forth at the slightest probe, which lasts as long as you had the patience to listen.

For a country where people are so distrustful of each other, confessions to strangers may be the catharsis they seek in a large and lonely city like Shanghai.

November 2011

10
Aug

How children take to the Roving Exhibit

By Sue Anne 3 Comments
Categories: The Roving Exhibit

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As some of you may know, I gave a showing (video and talk) of The Roving Exhibit at the twocities gallery back in June. Unfortunately, I had recklessly used the photo boards as shelter against heavy rain that evening. Softened from excess moisture, the boards subsequently hardened into a permanent curve. Given its sorry state, I can’t quite decide if I should offer it to some construction worker as a conveyor or to the kids in my neighborhood to go sledding on the grass.

On second thought, I could simply give the board to the gaggle of cheeky children I met on my last “rove” back in May, who showed me the wonders of a simple plank of cardboard.

After a long meandering walk with the photo boards through street markets and along noisy sidewalks, I had slipped into a longtang along Dongchangzhi Lu (东长治路) in Hongkou south of the Bund, drawn by the soundtrack of a busy Saturday afternoon.

Pushing past the ubiquitous public trash bins, I found the place to be almost cavernous. The structures and beams were taller and the alleys more generous in width. Or perhaps it was the presence of children playing in the midst that made the place look much larger than it really was. It was a nostalgic sight, reminiscent of my childhood days when ‘fun’ didn’t involve an electronic gadget. Nimble fingers were for bursting soap bubbles, not slaying virtual aliens.

Like Pipe Piper, the children trailed after me as I leaned the boards against the wall and began unpacking my equipment. The next thing I knew, neighbors, relatives and friends were called upon to have a gander. The attention was fleeting after the customary “What is this all about?”

The children were less interested in the photos or what they represented, which was often the case. But the unwieldy nature of the boards provided plenty of entertainment. Through the boundless imagination of youth, the boards became wings of imaginary airplanes, fighting swords and magical fans that turned into deadly weapons etc. Receptive and energetic, everyone wanted to pose and play with the camera at the same time. We were loud, boisterous and carefree.

Just then, a loud honk pierced through the air. A grumpy man on an electric bike raised his fists, demanding we get out of his way in the alley. As he passed, a young girl reassured me, “Don’t mind him, sister.” she stuck at her tongue at the man’s receding back. “He’s crazy. Nobody likes him.”

20
Jul

The life and times of an old brick in Luwan* district

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: The Fading Vestige

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Located only minutes away from the hectic Xintiandi (新天地), the desolate longtang was as barren as the silence was deafening. February’s wintery cold only added to the vacuum.

More than two thirds of the shikumen in this neighborhood along Jinan Lu (济南路) between Hubin Lu (湖滨路) and Taicang Lu (太仓路) has been demolished. What had been weaving alleys crowded with residents a year or two ago was now a giant plot of land strewn with debris and weeds.

In a bright orange worker’s uniform, he looked like a traffic cone amidst the many scattered piles of brick. Behind him, the iconic stone arches of the remaining shikumen were prominent but dull with age. Their expansive entrances were a tell-tale sign of the wealth of the original tenants when they were first built.

Hunched over, the man was searching for something in the ground. The back of his uniform had “Luwan municipality (or district)”  emblazoned in the back.  As I neared, I noticed he was wearing thick gloves with a blunt instrument in hand. He picked up bricks, examine them and scrape off layers of dirt, finally tossing them a nearby wheelburrow.

Why ignore the perfectly fine looking bricks in then nearby piles? I wondered, and plucked a solid brick from a storey-high pile to give him, like a child who had discovered an intriguing piece of trash for the first time.

He smiled but shook his head. The good bricks were reserved by the demolition company which will haul them away to be reused, he said. He wanted bricks that were discarded by the workers but in good enough condition to build a temporary wall elsewhere.

And it couldn’t be just any kind of brick. His preference was for older clay bricks, which had been baked fierily in the early part of the 20th century, and held up better than the grey cement ones. To prove his point, he hacked off a corner of a brick, revealing a fresh, almost bold, reddish hue. The clay was so densely packed it looked brand new.

He continued, “These bricks should be over 60 – 70 years old, German made too.” He tapped one that was engraved with the word “Lun Hing” which sounded more like a Cantonese firm than a European one. Later, no amount of online research revealed the name in question, and perhaps some rifling of old reference texts will be necessary.

As old houses are demolished, the bricks one finds can be very revealing from the color and texture (red clay to grey stone), to the sometimes mysterious hieroglyphic symbols, Chinese characters or untraceable English words. Regardless, good quality bricks that they are, their life span can be long. For one, they transition from being part of a wall of someone’s home for decades to that of a tempoarary filler used to seal the entrance of a shikumen to prevent squatters.

As the man wheeled his harvest away, I walked along a temporary wall made entirely out of recycled bricks, a mix of grey, red and wet cement holding it all together. I traced my finger around the bend, only to reach a faux brick wall made out of cardboard, upon my disappointing exit.

February 2011

* It should be noted that Luwan will no longer be a stand-alone district, and is to merge with neighborhing Huangpu district as of June 2011.

12
Jul

A dog’s life and a cat’s world

By Sue Anne 0 Comments
Categories: Street Stories

I’ve encountered my fair share of pets while roaming in old neighborhoods. Live poultry aside, they range from scruffy half-heartedly adopted dogs and cats that looked like they needed a really good wash, and the celebrated category of toy pets, excessively groomed and beautified.

As the city becomes more compact and kids grow up and move out of the family orbits, older residents have taken to lavish greater attention on their pampered poodles and slick felines. But dogs definitely remain a greater status symbol due to the one-dog policy in Shanghai and the tedious registration process of owning one.

Ironically, the greater amount of time and attention lavished on these dogs has resulted in their declining loss of dignity. I’ve seen poodles with their ears and bob tails dyed a horrific green or pink, beagles and Yorkshire puppies uncomfortably squeezed into stuffy dresses and tiny shoes, hoppity hopping along the sidewalks.

In one breathy gush, an elderly resident described to me how his poodle sleeps in the same bed as his daughter and the extensive wardrobe his pet now has. Meanwhile, said poodle sat next to his master, scratching uncomfortably in its new pair of “Addidas” running shoes. At a street market, a middle-aged woman was buying yards of ribbon to decorate her dogs, entwining them in blue, pink and gold.

Cats, on the other hand, would roam alone, lying languidly on roofs and window sills, watching the world go by with great suspicion feigned by disregard. More often than not, they tend to be strays, or “domestically challenged”. Whatever the color of their fur, ginger, striped, pale or dark, they would be tucked in cracks in the wall or hiding under the eaves of roofs. When you’re shooting in quiet old longtangs, these cats can be your companions, quiet and unassuming. Sometimes, they are so stealthy, you wouldn’t notice them until you see a pair of shiny eyes staring back at you from a dark hole somewhere.

And once in a blue moon, theirs eyes are of different colors and they can be mesmerizing.

 

23
Jun

The street patrons of the Roving Exhibit

By Sue Anne 11 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications and The Roving Exhibit

First of all, a word of thanks to all the folks who braved the torrential rain last Friday to attend my talk at the beautiful twocities gallery. I myself was caught in the downpour on the way over but the photo boards came in handy for shelter!

Special thanks to Eva, Chelsea and their wonderful staff for hosting me. Eva was a most excellant interviewer and I’m sure many twocities visitors will miss her when she leaves.

For those who could not attend, below is a short slideshow I screened at twocities, a compilation of all the places the Roving Exhibit has been to. (if you can’t see the video below, here is the link.)

The Roving Exhibit started off as a curious experiment - taking street photography back to the streets in the form of show and tell. At the end of the day, the Roving Exhibit could not have been anything without its array of colorful street patrons – local residents, street sweepers, construction workers and street hawkers – that largely made up my audience.

Ahhh, what stories I have (and shared) and the various shapes and sizes they embody. So here I present to you, a snapshot of my average patron:

The art critic: When I first started out, a woman selling socks on the side of the street had bluntly told me to improve my photograhy skills. No, I’m not joking. Like her, I’ve had a few who spent more time telling me how to improve my work than looking at the photos.

Feedback has ranged from the friendly, useful and some bordered on plain old criticism. Some have been very useful, such as adding headings and context to the photos. Others preferred more color than black and white. Some had issues with the composition, framing, depth of field and more. I get it, it’s a rather Chinese way of expressing care which I am familiar, and I’ve taken all of them in stride. Rarely do critics border on being hostile. Disinterest is your greatest fear.

The logistics guy: They have a million questions, not about the photos or exhibit but the set up. How much is your camera? What lens do you use? Do you know how much XX lens costs? How much do you earn? How much are these boards? (Proceed to finger and poke the board).

The docent: God love them. They are usually locals with a lot of free time and a love for attention. Once they grasp the concept and details, they’d take over with show and tell, often in Shanghainese. They’d draw crowds with their booming voices and large gestures and sometimes add a bit of their own narrative along the way. Rarely does the docent register my presence, it’s about them and their thoughts on someone else’s platform. I take what I can and appreciate them for their enthusiasm.

The archivist: My favorite. They are almost all older local residents who have lived in the neighborhood for decades. One was a retired civil servant of the local housing co-opt in Hongkou. He gave me an exhaustive list of places I should visit before they were completely demolished, and even gave me his contact number for follow up. Through their their wisedom, I learned a great deal of the various types of housing that used to pepper the old districts that no longer exist and the history of neighborhoods long past. I love that the photos gave them a platform to share their memories and intricate knowledge of the city. They have a firm finger on the pulse of old Shanghai, and are invaluable contributions to its living history.

The Roving Exhibit isn’t over though the sticky summer heat may be a bit of a challenge. If you want to sell lemonade alongside me to draw crowds, let’s talk. Enjoy the video if you haven’t already!

22
Jun

Standing tall on Tanggu Lu but not for long

By Sue Anne 5 Comments
Categories: Street Stories and The Fading Vestige

A little north of Suzhou Creek, nestled behind the cacophony of Qipu Lu’s (七浦路) hectic wholesale clothing district lie two rather statuesque structures on Tanggu Lu (塘沽路)*.

One is the entrance of Changchun “Long Spring” Lane (长春里), a crumbling longtang marked by the ubiquitous brick archway under the lane’s name chiseled in stone. It had a very auspicious address: 858 in Chinese is “ba wu ba” but can sound like “fa wo fa” (发我发) as in “prosper I prosper”.

Ironically, the fortunes of the lane had been less so. Residents in the front section of the longtang have moved out after negotiating their compensations, turning the main alleyway into a repository for rotting trash and festering vermin. Meanwhile, the once-lovely balcony overlooking the street was being slowly eaten away by termites and humidity.

The back portion of the longtang was still intact with a few families but slowly emptying out, evidenced by the bricked-up shikumens. Fenced in by wide asphalt roads and office warehouses, the fate of 858 Tanggu Lu was likely going to be that of the latter.

Down the road stood a handsome bungalow with Roman columns supporting a large balcony. It was sandwiched by two large wings of the house with bay windows and frames lined with small eyelet carvings.

An elderly woman was sitting in the walkway eyeing me as I climbed an outdoor stairwell that was built to accommodate families on the second floor. What was once the home of a rich merchant family before the Communists took over, had changed into a crowded apartment for at least 10 families.

She later smiled and told me that the house received many curious visitors, the day before was a group of Tongji University architecture students taking copious notes and photographs.

I asked her if she knew how the neighborhood was going to turn out but the old lady shrugged. Just like the high walls surrounding the house, she was guarded about what to share with strangers. Given the inevitable fate of her neighbors and the commercial chaos that maps its surroundings, the families are no doubt in negotiations for 动迁 (dongqian) whereby the government takes back the property for redevelopment upon an agreed compensation value.

Standing along this sliver of Tanggu Lu, I watched vendors hustle back and forth, unloading and repacking wares. The Qipu Lu area has traditionally been a major hub of commercial activity. Before it became the behemoth of wholesale trading of fabric and tinsle, Qipu Lu was a hub for tea trading as early as the 1920s. Tea houses represented from the best tea growing plantations across China gathered to trade tea and its location by Suzhou Creek and Huangpu River made export an importance aspect of their business.

That afternoon, I watched a woman zoom by on an electric bicycle, precariously balancing her child and two mannequins. I mused at how the frenzy of activity ignored that stateliness of the two residences, one falling to the wayside, the other still standing strong.

For now.

* to be precise, it is located between Fujian North Road (福建北路) and Shanxi North Road (山西北路).

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