Paris in Shanghai
(French Concession: tree-lined street)
At first, it seemed a bizarre name for an area; that the Chinese might have handed over a section of the city to the French residents of the city, but that seems to have been precisely what did happen. You can see the French influence on this street, the road is lined with tall verdant trees and there are railings along the roadside. It feels very much like residential Paris; the wide boulevards, light percolating through the foliage and the quieter traffic. Even the workers seem to be losing their modern Chinese dynamism in the afternoon heat. Shanghai was hitting an uncomfortable 38 degrees by 3 o’clock and Ying and I were knocking back bottles of ‘Pocari sweat’, a deeply unpleasant name for a Japanese isotonic drink.
These streets are a pleasant mix of boutique shops, small restaurants and long suburban lanes leading from them. These lanes were recommended as an agreeable break from the relentless pulsating city, but they have been fortified with security for our type of invader – the tourist. Perhaps too may people were enjoying the leafy walks past people’s homes. When the security guard barred our way, we were perplexed – how could a tourist guide recommend something we couldn’t get to? A shame for us, but no doubt the residents are relieved.
I think this is what I find strange about this city, it has no real identity like other places I have been. It is changing so rapidly and has so many faces and areas and centres, it cannot be defined except as a true cosmopolitan metropolis. To me, Shanghai feels like New York, but is still more; around each corner is a new city, bigger surprises and different people. The prices are so disparate mere streets away; we both ate a hot noodle lunch for the equivalent of £2, with drinks and table service, yet ten minutes walk away, an ice cream cost almost £4.
