Tag Archive for '%e9%bb%84%e6%b5%a6%e6%b1%9f'

10
May

Shanghai’s Future Real Estate Developers?

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Building the China Dream and Street Stories

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The boys were on a mission.

Focused and resolute, the objective was to build a faux irrigation ditch to channel the trickling stream of water cutting across the dusty road along Wanyu Street (万裕街).

Demolition has stepped up considerably north of Wangjiamatou Lu (王家码头路) to give way to the third phase of the current luxury estate called Bund House* which faces the Cool Docks.

The two young leaders of the operation were unsuccessfully digging the ditch with a stick. Sweat beaded around their foreheads as they furiously prodded and pushed the soil. In the background stood a stately old house with beautiful fixtures, quivering on its last leg of life.

“We need more water!” the tall lanky one shouted. Two smaller boys ran toward a filthy lake, created after a heavy rainful, and began scooping water with whatever they could find. One cleverly used abandoned styrofoam bowls construction workers used for takeaway. Another filled up empty soda bottles.

As I watched them dip their hands into the brownish and muddy liquid, my hand automatically began scratching an imaginary itch on my ankle. Fleas and bacteria are rampant in demolition sites, the humid summer is like a Mardi Gras party for them.

Amongst the team stood a small boy of maybe 5 years old, bereft of tools and creativity. I told him that I had seen a pile of empty bowls dumped in the next street over. I had not mentioned that they looked like they were breeding mosquitoes for the last few days. He sprinted furiously in his dusty slippers, and emerged minutes later waving the styrofoam bowls triumphantly in the air.

By then, the spectacle attracted a few construction workers who squatted and smoked, amused by the childrens’ antics. I crouched next to them and joked, “It looks like they are mimicking you.”

One of them laughed, a mouth full of bad teeth, and responded, “Who would want to grow up to be laborers like us! If they study hard, they can be rich real estate developers to hire laborers to do that.”

*The Bund House was formerly known as the Dongjiadu Project, and its first phase apartments fetched an average price of more than RMB 16 million (US 2.3 million).

May 2011

22
Nov

Farming in the city

By Sue Anne 4 Comments
Categories: Street Stories, The Fading Vestige and The Lives Within

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How much land does a man need?

Leo Tolstoy had posed and answered the question in a 1886 short story about a greedy Russian peasant Pakhom, intent on securing as much land as possible. He had boldly proclaimed that “if I had plenty of land, I shouldn’t fear the Devil himself!”.

One day, Pakhom entered into an agreement with the Bashkirs who were selling land for cheap (a ploy possibly concocted by the Devil himself). The Bashkirs promised all the land Pakhom could encircle around on foot in one day, marking his desired territory and ending where he started.

Being the greedy man that he was, Pakhom overestimated his stamina (and greed) and despite rushing to the starting point to seal the deal, he collapsed and died from exhaustion. Pakhom’s servant eventually buried him in a six-foot long grave, a tragic yet ironic answer to the question posed by the title of Tolstoy’s story.

Tolstoy’s (an early socialist thinker) character Pakhom should have learned well from the migrant families living in demolition sites here in Shanghai.

I recently returned to Dongjiadu (董家渡）upon learning that westward demolition has resumed with the intention to completely flatten the north part of Old Town (which also hangs blocks away from the Huangpu River (黄浦江) by early next year*.

In the sole structure that has been spared for refurbishment – the Shangchuan Huiguan (商船会馆) or Merchant Shipping Hall – lives a family from Anhui who are responsible for organizing the razing. Nearby, another crumbling structure housed workers from Chongqing, also involved in scrapping and demolition.

These migrant families have been moving around the area and into whatever available space while doing their jobs. The Shangchuan Huiguan is the latest accommodation before it has to be renovated.

On my way out, the matriarch of the family was picking some vegetables from a tiny space of land on what had been rubble only months ago. In effort to reduce costs and control their own food supplies, the families planted small plots of vegetables (bak choy seems hardy and easy to grow, large cabbage, spring onions etc) which look so out of place amidst dump trucks, cranes, scrap and rubble.

The family from Chongqing had a more ambitious farm plot, managed communally by neighbors living in individual shanty shacks (6 planks of wood, a bed and a small table).

3 months and soon to be harvested, one lady proudly tells me. Squatting amidst her kingdom of wild greens, she used scraps of string to hold up her cabbage to allow them to grow vertically. Some of the vegetables looked a bit weak, clearly ravaged by the surrounding construction and dust.

A year ago, concrete blocks and old alley houses filled this several block radius of land. 6 months later, it was covered by excavators, sand, scrap and rubble. Now, wild grass popped up in random tufts in contrast to neat rows of edible vegetation. For the migrant families making their home in the demolition site, their living space may shrink or grow, but they make it work with what arable land they can find.

It would have been a good lesson for Pakhom.

*For those interested in the rare structural architecture that are being razed, please follow Katya Knyazeva’s documentary here.

November 2010

10
May

Sunrise on the Bund (Part 1)

By Sue Anne 11 Comments
Categories: Art, Games and Hobbies and Street Stories

It was one of those moments that occur to the (semi) conscious mind at 430am.

Dark blue hues were giving way to light, inch by inch. A lone bird chirped, for it too was an early riser. The sun will reveal itself in the barest of moments.

Sunrise in Shanghai. The endless opportunities to discover if one was courageous enough to swing out of bed.

Even the cab driver was barely awake during the journey. The hum of the engine served as a monotonous soundtrack as the cit swept by, empty and dead.

I hopped off by the newly constructed Bund, which only weeks ago, had thousands of people thronging and jostling on the pedestrian walkway.

A friend had remarked, “I only saw bobbing heads, not a skyline. If there was a time to start hating humanity, this was it.”

I hated crowds. Thus, 5am seemed like the perfect time to start my morning affair with the city.

Standing by the river, I watched the wind whip the clouds playfully as they gathered and rolled. The sun gained strength as it grew higher, its bold rays streaking across the skyline.

I’ve never seen Shanghai like this before.

It was as if the Bund belonged only to me, … and a few others. The average age was 50 and above. Retired kite-flyers, joggers and the occasional lone photographer peppered the Bund. The enduring landmark was being enjoyed by its residents, as it rightfully should.

It was about 7am when a large group of elderly folk began their morning excerise. The peaceful strains of qigong jarred unharmoniously with a nearby blairing radio entertaining some cha-cha dancers.

Just as the tourists started arriving. it was time to leave. I walked toward the city as it opened up and swallowed me back into the noise and bustle.

8am. Time for bed.

May 2010

13
Apr

The Love of Kite-flying Part Two

By Sue Anne 3 Comments
Categories: Art, Games and Hobbies and Street Stories

It was a most random yet lovely sight. Spread out over a large field, with tall incinerators serving as a backdrop and passing ships along the Huangpu River (黄浦江) blaring horns in the near distance, a smattering of retired and middle-aged men were flying kites with very interesting paraphernalia.

Chatting with them, I discovered that a core group flew kites every day in the field, barring rain or the absence of wind. They also belong to a special club focused on kite-flying and would even conduct demonstations for their former work units (单位).

They also gathered at sunrise on the Bund to fly their kites until about 8am. “Before the crowds and cars become distracting, ” one man said. “You don’t want your kite crashing on someone’s head, or worse, on a moving car!” Another sniggered, “Or ruin your kite.”

The “leader” of the pack, they teased, was Mr (or Master) Li. Incredibly dapper in a red sweater and a smart tie, he showed me his favored eagle kite. I watched him lay it on the ground and gradually swing the contraption in a circular fashion until the eagle was high enough to soar unencumbered. No forced yanking. Only graceful light steps forward and back to maneuver in accordance to the winds and your own fancy.

It takes a certain skill to fly these kinds of eagle kites, Mr Li boasted and the rest nodded in agreement. You don’t see many people flying these kinds of kites in public parks or the city centers they lack the space.. and skill.

“You could train non-stop for 3 months and you might maybe master the basics,” he said while inspecting his prized paper aves.

Each gentleman has several models to practice, and most craft the kites themselves with patient precision and after many rounds of testing. Many of the men had several stashed in their nifty kit boxes affixed to the back or the front of their bicycles.

After a half hour, three men heaved up from their foldable chairs and packed up their tea and gear.

As they wheeled their bicycles across the field, they waved and yelled, “See you all tomorrow!” and added, “ Depending on the weather!.” Hopping on, they bicycled off in a neat row.

Taken by 2523 Yangshupu Lu (扬树浦路), right by the shipdocks

April 2010

06
Apr

The red bag (and buying a 2-wheeler)

By Sue Anne 0 Comments
Categories: Street Stories and The Civilized Conveyance

Shanghai is a dense enough city that getting around can be quite a breeze.

The city has an ever expanding metro system which carries 3 million people each day, we’re up to 10 subway lines now and it is estimated to be double the size of London’s tube system by 2020. Cabs are relatively easy to flag down on the streets and if you’re lucky, you’d spot one of the new shiny Expo Volkswagon or Buick cabs that actually have seatbelts that work.

But there are also tens of thousands of people on two wheels zipping by the street while you are sitting in traffic, which seems to have worsened over the years. The mobility can be liberating.

I’ve been eyeing a moped (MOtor+PEDals) for a while but may settle for an electric bike. The former seems unwieldy, and the latter, if stolen, is easier to bear.

It’d be perfect to beat the arduous traffic clustering around my office area and head to the nearby wet market for groceries. I regularly cross the Huangpu river by ferry, along with the thousands of day-workers and pay 0.5RMB a trip, 1RMB if you’re on a 2-wheeler. If you’ve never done it before, I heartily recommend it as the view can be amazing.

Yes, I’m beginning to like the idea a lot. Stay tuned.

20
Feb

The Singing Ship

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: The Fading Vestige

This old and rusting ship was moored off the Pudong side of the Huangpu River (黄浦江) by Zhangyang Harbour (张扬码头), but is no longer there.

Nobody was ever able to tell me its history except that it belonged to a family in Shanghai that had been looking for investors to restore it.

In the few times that I’ve been on board after much cajoling, the interior looked as if it entertained Shanghai’s rich and playful in the 1920s and 30s.  (Ed note: A friend – see comments – has wisely corrected me in that the ship was likely borne from the 1980s given that it was welded. Blame my romanticism for such assumptions.) Musical notes were carved into railings, stairs and walls. You could feel ghosts linger in shadowed corners as you walk on rotting floorboards and dodged rusted metal.

I doubt many have seen the ship in its full glory. Sometimes, it looked like an abandoned outcast amidst the hustle and bustle of shipping containers and garish tourist boat traffic.

Other times, the ship looked like a defiant relic proud of the era it represented, as if it was the only thing that stood between the frantic reality we lived in and the tenuous history we so easily forget.

It was an especially iconic sight when the mist comes in after a heavy downpour.

According to a guard who used to live on the ship, it has been towed to Nantong Port (南通港口)in Zhejiang  to be restored in time for the Shanghai Expo. Whether it will look as majestic as its former self, or morph into a cliché strobe-lighted circus on water remains to be seen.

April 2009

09
Feb

Making his way home

By Sue Anne 4 Comments
Categories: Street Stories

I was running for the ferry when I came up alongside an old man. He was blind so a kind dockhand helped him on board. As we bobbed across the Huangpu River (黄浦江), the old man sat silently clutching his cane as if listening intently to the small waves lapping at the ferry.

However, when we alighted on the other side, the dockhand had to return to work and positioned the old man physically toward his destination.

And so I stood there, watching the old man tap his way alone toward a major intersection.

Where are you going, Grandpa? I asked him. He cocked his head, a little uncertain of how to react to me. To the bus stop, he said. May I help you, I asked and then lightly gripped his arm.

I wonder what he felt when a hand would purposefully hold his arm. Is it instinctive fear or a rush of warmth?

He told me he was visiting friends in Pudong (浦东), east of Shanghai, though he rarely left his house. It takes about 2-3 hours for a one-way journey for him which would otherwise take about half hour by car.

Just as we approached the stop, I saw his numbered bus pull up. I signaled to the driver to wait up. The sullen looking driver looked right past me and pulled away.

Reduced to waiting, I sat the old man down on the bench as he told me about growing up in Shanghai. As his eyesight deteriorated, he missed much of the changes the city had undergone. He told me how proud he was of Shanghai and what a modern city it had become, according to his neighbors.

Suddenly, he clamored back on his feet. Best to wait standing, he smiled, the buses don’t always wait for you.

Finally, his bus arrived and the old man struggled up the bus steps. I offered to help him all the way home but he didn’t want me to spend money on the fare.

All I could remember was the back of the old man, covered in dust from when he sat on the bench.

Standing by the side of the road, I suddenly found myself crying. For the lack of kindness you often witnessed in large cities, and for the resilience and optimism that some people held, even if they deserved so much more.

September 2009

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