Shanghai on Life

I have never been to Nevada and as a consequence I have no first-hand experience of the bright lights of Las Vegas. Therefore I am unable to to comment on how the glitz of Nanjing Lu compares to that of America's favorite oasis. However, I have seen my fair share of east Asia—an area very fond of its neon—and Shanghai's main boulevard is possibly the sparkliest, shiniest, flashiest thing I have ever seen.The main drag itself is an interesting blend of contrasts. The architecture is at once both frighteningly modern and wonderfully antique. At one side of the street will be a giant glass-fronted hotel or department store, on the other a colonial creation with wonderful lines and ornate stonework, albeit covered in neon. Possibly the best living example of the two contrasting faces of Shanghai—past and present—blending together comes in a building close to the start of the road, near the subway station where things are still pedestrianised. I would imagine that a century ago it would have been an elegant hotel, bank or the like. Nowadays though whilst it maintained the elegance of its design it was covered by a 30 feet high illuminated Coca-Cola bottle. I could not help stand and chuckle at the symbolism.Nanjing Lu could also be considered China's equivalent of Oxford Street in London, or Fifth Avenue in New York, thanks to the plentiful supply of brand named shops and designer outlets. However, the contrast on Nanjing Lu managed to continue through to the shopping. Not only could you pay high prices in high-rise department stores, but back on street level you also see guys selling watches, DVDs and all manner of other fake goods from out of a suitcase. I even got a taste of an older Shanghai tradition and another industry that is growing in the new China. Whilst walking and minding my own business, girls would appear and ask if I wanted to go for a walk or go somewhere more private. Again I could not help but think there was an echo of old Shanghai appearing in the modern environment.Despite the heavy crowds that frequent Nanjing Lu, it is a nice place to take a stroll and pass a couple of hours. You can shop, enjoy the architecture or perhaps watch a century of Shanghai's history and culture condense itself into a piece of architecture. Of course a gentle stroll along Nanjing Lu is always a reward in itself as when the street ends at the Bund you are greeted by the spectacular view of the Pudong skyline.

The tunnel that runs beneath the Huangpo River serves one important purpose, it allows you to travel from Nanjing Lu and the Bund on one bank to Pudong on the other. This is no small service; on the far bank Pudong boasts two of the world's tallest buildings, either or both of which are well worth the visit. The massive skyscraper that is the Jinmao Tower and the giant bawbled spike that is the Oriental Pearl Tower dominate the skyline and offer spectacular views across Shanghai. Having already visited Nanjing Lu and the Bund at least one of these two are a must on any tour of Shanghai.Getting across the Huangpo though, is made more difficult by the fact that there is no bridge close by. So if you don't fancy swimming in the decidedly murky waters, it is a choice between a ferry and the tunnel. Now without doubt the ferry is by far the most interesting option, allowing you to enjoy the river scenery as well as providing a great opportunity to take pictures of both banks of the river.To combat the inherent disadvantage to which it is placed, the tunnel has attempted to re-invent itself as a separate tourist attraction in its own right. There are posters all along the Bund advertising it. Unfortunately I was gullable enough to think that it was worth a try. I am not sure I could have been more disappointed in what I found.For starters the Haungpo is not that wide, nothing like the Hudson in New York and probably only similar to the Thames in London. So, the tunnel is not all that long. Second there just isn't anything to see. All that has been done to change the tunnel from a regular tunnel to a sightseeing extravaganza is that it has been covered in neon and twinkling fibre-optic cables. I could not help but think that considering that just a few yards away on Nanjing Lu there was enough neon to leave you needing sunglasses in the dead of night, the efforts in the tunnel were somewhat pointless. I disembarked the small carriage that journeys between the banks thinking how much better a ferry would have been.

There are two massive structures which dominate the Pudong side of the Huangpo River directly opposite the Bund and the end of Nanjing Lu. The tallest of the two is the Jinmao Tower, a giant metallic looking building that tapers up to a point at the very top. It is a stunning creation and manages to blend an imposing scale with delicate lines in a way that allows it to complement rather than overpower the Shanghai skyline. Whilst I am no architectural expert, it seems to me that it borrows some key aspects from structures like the Empire State Building or even the Chrysler Building.The strange thing is though, despite its stature and sparkling facade the Jinmao almost completely failed to grab my attention when I first visited Shanghai. That privilege instead went to the Oriental Pearl Tower. Now, where Jinmao looks to be somewhat classical and subtle in its design, perhaps even offering an architectural nod to the style of Shanghai's previous generations, the Pearl seems to be going for the gaudiest, most obtrusive look possible. It is almost as though it were designed as a giant skewer with a series of giant pink spheres impaled upon it like marshmallows ready for the fire or chunks of lamb on a kebab.The Pearl tends to polarise opinion; most people either love it or hate it. In all fairness giant pink balls tend to generate a response some kind of response either way. I have to admit, that despite the fact that that it lacks any form of subtlety whatsoever, I love it.I remember when I first laid eyes on Pudong. It was a hazy summer afternoon and as I approached the end of Nanjing Lu the giant pink balls thrust themselves through the mist. As I emerged onto the Bund the Pearl stood out like nothing I had ever seen before. In comparison, Jinmao seemed to hover in the background without really penetrating into either my line of sight or imagination.I remember standing on the Bund sort of transfixed by what I saw. It was hypnotic watching the sunlight reflect off the spheres creating a wonderful array of pinks, reds and purples.The view of the Pearl from the city side of the Huangpo was spectacular. However, I soon found out that the reverse of this was also true. From the highest and smallest sphere the views around Shanghai were stunning. Looking back across the river the city seemed to stretch away until it faded into a combination of summer haze and smog. I could also look across to where the Jinmao stood glistening and towering just a couple of kilometers away.

The one thing that struck me with greatest force about the Bund was the lack of anything to actually do. To get there I had walked along Nanjing-Lu, a giant throbbing boulevard filled with bars, restaurants and shops. The Bund in comparison seemed relatively spartan, a place to stand and enjoy your surroundings rather than be swept away in frenzied activity. In all fairness though I suppose that is just the ticket as there is plenty to see.What I love best about the Bund is its duality. It is a place where in a chaotic presence, elegant traces of the past and bright technological flashes of the future collide in a panorama that is almost too much to appreciate at one time. The Bund in itself maintains much of the classical elegance infused during the colonial era. Much of that period's architecture remains intact, evoking a permanence which many subsequent Chinese buildings have failed to match. The former banks and Customs House dominate the roadside, but still exhibit some wonderful decorative touches and deceptively delicate lines.

The split-personality of the Bund comes through the view it provides. From the elevated riverside you can stare across the river at the ultra-modern skyline of Pudong. The giant purple, pink spheres of the Oriental Pearl cannot help but grab the attention, whilst the far more distinguished Jinmao Tower looms subtly in the background. I may have been intellectualising things a little as I stood on the Bund, but it seemed to me that I was watching Shanghai enjoying something of a manifest destiny or even a modern and technological gold rush. It was as though the city was moving away from its past, which was defined heavily by European Colonial powers and had begun to migrate away from the old world towards a new one on the far bank.

My philosophical musings aside though, I have to say that I enjoyed strolling along the Bund and simply drinking in the sights.

The drizzle falling onto the Bund was feint, but incessant. The purple orbs of the Oriental Pear stood out against the mist, much of the rest of Pudong though was somewhat shrouded. The lines of the Jinmao were made feint and indistinct as reams of low cloud drew in. Oz and I stood on the quayside sheltering from the rain and wondering why we had picked such a day for a cruise on the river.As poor as the conditions were, in all honesty we had no other choice. We were heading out to Hangzhou the following day, making it a case of now or never for our river expedition. We were taking a boat from the center of Shanghai all the way up the Huangpo to where it met the Yangtze.Before we set off my head was full of romanticized notions of reliving the glories of old style steamships heading into Shanghai during its decadent heyday. However, I was to be a touch disappointed. Whilst the trip was tremendously interesting, the Huangpo is far from picturesque.The first blow to my illusions came as we boarded our vessel, a bizarrely decorated craft which for some reason had been mocked up in the style of a Mississippi riverboat. Regardless of the slightly confusing theme, the boat did offer great potential for snapping pictures of Pudong and the Bund. After we had eased away from our moorings and downstream from the center of the city, we passed beneath the Huangpo River Bridge. One of the largest suspension bridges in the world, it made our little boat seem dramatically insignificant as we floated beneath.It was after the bridge however, that my romanticism faded away. I was hoping that at some point the sprawl of Shanghai would give way to some form of countryside or at least non-industrialised land. Unfortunately the break just never came. Oz and I sat playing cards and watching as we passed succession after succession of barges and giant container ships. The only glimmer of interest came when we passed a string of Chinese naval vessels at which point an announcement came over the loudspeaker that we must not under any circumstances take pictures.It took two and a half largely uneventful hours to reach the Yangtze. When we did it felt as though we had reached the sea. The far side was miles away shrouded out by a dense fret. The waters of the Huangpo had been gently rippling with the breeze, but on the Yangtze proper there were genuine waves rolling in from the sea. Our little riverboat suddenly began to pitch and roll in a manner that indicated it was far better suited to slightly calmer waters. We slopped around for a few minutes before the captain decided he had had enough and turned for home. It had been a long trip for such a brief glimpse.

I will not even pretend that my thoughts in this entry are remotely original or represent emotions different to any exhibited by scores of people who have visited the French Concession before me. Yet I have to say that when I visited the quaint little district in central Shanghai I got the distinct impression that I had arrived too late, a few decades late in fact.In the early stages of the last century the concession was an integral part of Shanghai's decadent and colorful extravagance, which was world renowned. On the plus side the area still retains many of the architectural touches from the city's previous incarnation. Many of the roads are wide and tree-lined to give the effect of a Parisian boulevard. Coupled with this, along the main thoroughfares many of the buildings are only two, three or four storeys high; something of a rarity in such a fat growing city. It all adds up to a pleasant and slightly antiquated atmosphere at times.The problem with the modern French Concession is that it merely hints at, rather than fully divulges its past. Streets, boulevards and avenues that were once overflowing with the seedier, murkier aspects of the colonial era have been heavily sanitised, first by 40 years of Communist rule and subsequently by the emergence of a modern economically minded city. Where there were once adventurers, gangsters and prostitutes, there are now boutiques, mobile phone stores and branches of Starbucks.I have visited Shanghai twice. Once at the tale end of a hot summer and once in the dead of winter. Curiously enough, in the summer I found the French Concession far more inviting. I think the key to this was the trees on several streets. In the summer they were green and overhung the road to form a type of tunnel. This served to obscure many logos and much neon, keeping a little much of the modernity hidden and allowing the brain to conjure just a few brief images of the past. In the winter when the trees were bare, things were different. Shops and restaurants gave off a harsh light that declared it was a new century and all that remained was a decorated shell of the past.

For some bizarre reason, the only bus to leave Shanghai tourist bus station for Zhangzhou each morning departs at the ridiculously early time of 9:30am. The next one does not leave until well into the afternoon. So if we wanted a full day out, we needed to be up at stupid o'clock to ensure we could navigate the Shanghai rush hour and get there in time. From the station beside Shanghai Stadium the journey to Zhouzhang takes just under 2 hours, the majority of which was spent battling through the crowded city streets. Thankfully this allowed me to catch up on some of my lost sleep.

Zhouzhang is described by most guidebooks and local tourist companies as a scenic 'water village'. It is immensely popular with Chinese tourists and has developed a reputation as something of an Asian Venice, albeit on a far smaller scale. Just like its Italian counterpart, Zhouzhang is constructed around a series of canals and is explored as easily by boat as on foot.

Despite the immense amount of people who visit, Zhouzhang manages to to maintain a wonderfully quaint feel to it. It was originally built over 900 years ago with many of the buildings remaining intact and much of the atmosphere maintaining an historic edge. The streets are cobbled with many of the buildings overhanging and shutting out much of the light. It reminded me of medieval European towns such as York in northern England or Vannes in the west of France.

Aside from the wonderfully interwoven canals and picture-perfect architecture, Zhouzhang still has a few other little nooks to offer. The South Lake Garden and the Quanfu Temple are a little more open than the centre of town and are considerably less congested, both are awesome places to stroll by the water's edge. During my visit the town museum also had a superb exhibition of photography taken by some of China's top snappers. One little anomaly though was a pagoda on the edge of town, which despite being delicately crafted and elegantly painted was actually the town's water tower, camouflaged to maintain the picturesque feel.