Impressions of Shanghai

Duration: 1 day. The author visited these places: Huaihai Road, The Bund, Oriental Pearl Tower, Yu G[...]

Duration: 1 day. The author visited these places: Huaihai Road, The Bund, Oriental Pearl Tower, Yu Garden, Maglev Train. Posted on March 16, 2006 at 18:08.

When I first came to Shanghai, it was in the early autumn of a certain year. The streets are long, the buildings are tall, and the traffic is heavy. When we asked the taxi driver about Pudong, he said disdainfully: “That used to be the countryside.” The aunt in the supermarket spoke Shanghainese to me. Seeing my confusion, she still spoke Shanghainese. Most of the people on the road are in a hurry. I don’t know how many of them are native Shanghainese. It’s just that Shanghai may have such an ability to make everyone who joins in quicken their pace. Thinking this way, I found that my companion and I unconsciously quickened our steps too.

I took time to visit Huaihai Road. I also went to Nanjing Road. I heard that this is a road that locals don’t like to visit very much. When I was strolling, my bag was targeted by a thief. I looked back at him. He walked away nonchalantly without any intention of running away. When passing through small streets, I occasionally saw old alleys, Shikumen, old two-story buildings. Some clothes and pants were drying on the balcony. There were small stalls for repairing bicycles and mending shoes. There were discarded vegetable leaves on the ground. The worldly Shanghai poked its head out in my hasty glance and then disappeared quickly.

That time we also went to The Bund. Chen Yi’s bronze statue is by the river, solemnly examining the brilliance between heaven and earth. The Oriental Pearl Tower stands tall in the distance. Cruise ships on the river cruise slowly. After taking pictures as a formality, I looked at everything as an outsider and calculated my return journey in my heart.

After visiting several more times, Shanghai gradually became amiable. I like her plane trees, sunshine, and streets the most. I like walking in the shadows of trees, searching in the shadows of trees, chatting and humming in the shadows of trees. When I stood under the plane trees on Hengshan Road for the first time, I found that reality and imagination are always separated by such a distance. The coming and going vehicles broke the quiet reverie, but this did not prevent me from deeply liking Hengshan Road.

In late autumn on Hengshan Road, the sunshine is unobtrusive. Behind the noisy city sounds, sad old songs are faintly audible. I also once strolled slowly on the fallen leaves of Hengshan Road on a sunny and blurred afternoon. Someone came up to ask me for directions. I shook my head apologetically. I thought rather idly in my heart, “Am I so familiar with Hengshan Road?” In fact, even now, if I were left on Hengshan Road, I would definitely not be able to find my way. But this road has become a gentle bookmark, inserted in the memories about Shanghai.

There is another road whose name I can’t remember. I only remember passing by on this road and seeing someone setting up an easel and painting this road in front of them. The bare plane trees, with branches stretching out like arms, are all colorful. It turns out that in the eyes of painters, the sunshine is really so colorful.

Shaoxing Road is the quietest one among the Shanghai streets that I remember. There are some small western-style buildings by the roadside. I peeked through the large carved iron gate and saw signs with words like so-and-so studio. Some iron gates are ajar, but I never have the courage to push the door and enter. Some studios display oil paintings at the entrance on the first floor. After looking at them for a long time, I couldn’t understand. On the second-floor window, on the iron railing, some clothes are occasionally hung. The long sleeves of the cotton autumn clothes are hanging in the wind, swaying nonchalantly.

Opposite, on the large poster of the Kunqu Opera Theater, the performance date of ‘A Dream in the Garden’ is posted. Du Liniang and Liu Mengmei’s gazes are intertwined. The sound of silk and bamboo seems to be about to come out through the paper. Upon careful listening, there is only the rustling sound of the wind blowing the plane tree leaves.

As cars whiz by behind, they raise a wisp of dust that dances in the sunlight. There is an outlet of Shanghai Publishing House on this road. I went in and took a look. Many discounted books are placed on the shelves. Some books are really quite obscure. Looking through them, I thought to myself about how painstakingly the author must have written this booklet. Few people listen when the strings break. Presumably, this is a common occurrence in the world.

There is also a Hanyuan Bookstore on this road. Pushing the door open and entering, people reading books are sitting scattered. The shelves are filled with all kinds of books. I ordered some refreshments and then chose a book about Shanghai to read. The text and pictures are both good. I found Shaoxing Road in it. While reading the introduction in the book, I looked at the outside road through the window.It was quite interesting. When tired from reading, I dozed off leaning against the bench. Unknowingly, I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was already late. Thinking about the people in a hurry on the street during the day, it was a bit unbelievable. Could such a leisurely time actually be spent in Shanghai? I was uneasy in my heart.

After nightfall, the lights of Shanghai dance in the eyes of outsiders. Night Shanghai is a charming term full of allure. And I really like her night scenery, as well as the wind, the sky with or without the moon. Is it because it is near the river? The wind in Shanghai seems to be stronger. Last summer, walking with a good friend in Xujiahui at night, turning a corner, the wind blew, and the corners of my skirt were fluttering in the wind. My mood was also like just turning a corner, suddenly becoming bright and clear. I like walking in the wind, with my hair blown in a mess. My eyes look around in the wind, and my mood dances in the wind.

I like looking for a place to eat on the street at night. It doesn’t matter where. Eating itself is a very enjoyable thing. Of course, walking at night is also enjoyable. The plane trees grow so well. I only remember looking up and seeing the branches and leaves. But I have already forgotten whether between the branches and leaves, what I saw was the moon in the sky or the streetlights on earth. The mortal world comes surging in all directions. The moon on the street and the streetlights all illuminate people on their way home. In the night, the buildings show their magnificent outlines with the help of lights.

Recalling the alleys, vegetable markets, and inconspicuous storefronts seen during the day, and then联想到 the Shanghai ladies written about in the texts I have seen before. Plainness and magnificence. Perhaps the combination of the two is the real Shanghai. This makes people feel even more real and tangible. It is very difficult to combine the Shanghai in front of me with the imagined Jiangnan. Listening to the soft Shanghai dialect, I can’t think of the term ‘Wu Nong’s soft language’. Only in Yuyuan Commercial City, lining up in a long queue waiting toAfter taking the customary photos, I observed everything with detachment, calculating the time to return. With each subsequent visit, Shanghai gradually became more amiable. I loved her plane trees, sunlight, and streets the most. I enjoyed walking, searching, and chatting while humming songs under the shade of the trees.

The first time I stood under the plane trees on Hengshan Road, I realized that reality and imagination always have a gap. The constant flow of traffic shattered the tranquility of my thoughts, but it did not diminish my deep affection for Hengshan Road. In late autumn, the sunlight on Hengshan Road was subtle, and behind the noisy city sounds, a melancholic old song lingered faintly.

I also remember slowly strolling on Hengshan Road on a sunny, hazy afternoon, stepping on the fallen leaves. Someone approached me for directions, and I shook my head apologetically, thinking to myself, ‘Have I become so familiar with Hengshan Road?’ In truth, even if I were dropped on Hengshan Road now, I would still be lost, but this road has become a tender bookmark, nestled within my memories of Shanghai. I don’t remember the name of another road, only that as I passed by, I saw someone setting up an easel to paint the scene before them—the bare plane trees with their branches stretching out like arms, each one a spectrum of colors.

In the eyes of painters, sunlight is truly multicolored. Among the Shanghai streets I remember, Shaoxing Road is the quietest one. There are some small Western-style buildings by the roadside. I peek through the large carved iron gate and see signs reading ‘So-and-so Studio’. Some iron gates are ajar, but I still lack the courage to push them open. Some studios display oil paintings at the entrance on the first floor. After looking at them for a long time, I still can’t understand.

On the second-floor window, on the iron railing, occasionally some clothes are hung. The long sleeves of a cotton autumn garment sway in the wind, seemingly unconcerned. Opposite, the large poster of the Kunqu Opera Theater announces the performance dates of ‘A Dream in the Garden’. Du Liniang and Liu Mengmei’s gazes are intertwined. The sounds of silk and bamboo seem about to emerge from the paper. On closer listening, only the wind rustles the phoenix tree leaves. Behind, a car whizzes by, raising a cloud of dust that dances in the sunlight.

A certain publishing house in Shanghai has a storefront on this road. I went in and saw many discounted books on the shelves. Some books are really quite obscure. Looking through them, I thought to myself, the author of this book must have put in so much painstaking effort to write it. Few people listen when the strings break. Presumably, this is a common occurrence in the world. There is also a Hanyuan Bookstore on this road. Pushing the door open, people reading books are sitting scattered around. The shelves are filled with all kinds of books. I ordered some tea and snacks and then chose a book about Shanghai to read. The text and pictures are both good. I found Shaoxing Road in it. While reading the introduction in the book, I looked at the outside road through the window. It’s quite interesting.

When I got tired of reading and leaned against the bench to take a nap, I unknowingly fell asleep. When I woke up, it was already late. Thinking about the people in a hurry I saw on the street during the day, it was a bit unbelievable. Had I really spent such a leisurely time in Shanghai? I felt a bit uneasy.

After nightfall, the lights of Shanghai dance in the eyes of outsiders. Night Shanghai is a charming term that captivates people. And I really like her night scenes, as well as the wind, the sky with or without the moon. Is it because it is near the river? The wind in Shanghai seems stronger. Last summer, walking with a good friend in Xujiahui at night, turning a corner, the wind blew, and the corners of our skirts fluttered in the wind. My mood also seemed to have just turned a corner and suddenly became enlightened.

I like walking in the wind, with my hair blown in a mess. My eyes look around in the wind, and my mood dances in the wind. I like looking for a place to eat at night on the street. It doesn’t matter where. Eating itself is a very enjoyable thing. Of course, walking at night is also enjoyable. The phoenix trees grow so well. I only remember looking up and seeing the branches and leaves. But I have already forgotten whether between the branches and leaves, what I saw was the moon in the sky or the streetlights on earth. The mortal world comes in all directions.

Moonlight on the streets, lamps by the roadside, both guiding people home. In the night, the buildings display their magnificent silhouettes withIt’s hard to reconcile the Shanghai before my eyes with the imagined Jiangnan. Listening to the soft Shanghainese dialect, the phrase ‘Wu soft language’ doesn’t come to mind. Only at the Yuyuan Mall, waiting in a long line for Nanxiang soup dumplings, do I inexplicably sense a hint of Jiangnan flavor. Indeed, Shanghai should be Oriental, the Pearl of the Orient; no term fits her better.

Another place that left a deep impression on me was the airport. Once, transferring from Hangzhou to Shanghai, after boarding just as dusk fell, the lights were just coming on. Leaning against the window, I saw the brilliant lights around Hongqiao Airport, and the cars on the road had their headlights on, flowing like a long snake. Amidst the huge roar of the plane, I was lifted off the ground, looking through the window at the Hongqiao in the starry rain, so clear, so distant.

Another time, rushing back to Pudong Airport, I took the maglev train and intentionally chose a backward-facing seat. As the speed increased, watching the scenery outside the window speed by, I felt as if I was left in a tunnel by time. Shanghai swiftly receded from my sight.

That flight was delayed by six hours, and I sat in the waiting hall of Pudong Airport, leaning back, looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the maglev trains coming and going in the distance, the scene in front of me gradually becoming less real. Announcements of incoming and outgoing flights echoed through the PA system. Bored, I imagined how many people from Shanghai were leaving their hometown that afternoon, and how many foreigners, either anxious or indifferent, were arriving in Shanghai? What expectations, dreams, concerns, and sorrows do they carry? Shanghai, who’s starting point, who’s endpoint?

Tired, I dozed off. Outside the dream, Shanghai was quietly welcoming another dusk.