06 August 2006
Postcard from Shanghai - June 2005
The Peace Hotel in Shanghai claims to be the most famous hotel in the world, and is certainly an icon of survival against the odds. Built by a British Jew in the 1920s at the height of Shanghai’s time as an international open city, it survived being invaded by the Japanese, the civil war between the nationalists and communists, the Communist and the Cultural Revolutions, calmly serving Mao Tais, green teas and providing rooms to international guests the whole time. The worst threat today is the unlikely prospect of an invasion by fake Rolex salesmen, who prowl outside waiting for trade. (I have never seen a fake Rolex sold by the way, but that is not the only unexplained mystery about the Chinese economy today.)
The Peace Hotel is on the corner of Nanjing Road and the Bund, the two most famous roads in Shanghai. Across the Huang-Pu river, it overlooks Pudong – the brash new Shanghai – with its collection of skyscrapers, each taller than the next; flashing neon lights, conference centre out of a Star Wars film set, and enormous television tower (no-one can explain to me why such a tower is actually needed, other than to show off). It is a striking contrast with the Bund on the other river bank, with its Gothic architecture which would not look out of place at Blackfriars Bridge. The most dramatic building is probably the old Customs House (now a bank), with its copy of Big Ben on top of a building that looks like Somerset House. Apparently the stones used to build the buildings on the Bund were all shipped in from England. It shows.
At the north end of the Bund is an iron bridge that could be a miniature of the Forth Bridge. Although now inadequate for the increased traffic, the Chinese have left it as an historic landmark: it marks the point where the Japanese invaded the international settlements in 1937.
Shanghai clearly buzzed in its heyday in the 1920s, and it is doing so again today. The streets teem with shoppers, salesmen, people out with friends and others just going about their work. There are old bars, new bars, sleazy bars and smart bars. There is every choice of restaurant, where you can pay London prices, or eat for just £2 a head. The shops have the latest Italian clothing, or Chinese silks, antiques, Jade or just cheap trinkets. A newspaper article reported local government worries of the population declining – a sign of economic development perhaps – but the 50,000 reduction is more than offset by the 2M people who come without permits to look for work.
With only 36 hours in this amazing city, we follow the main tourist circuit: the Bund; the Shanghai museum with its old potteries; the museum of Urban Planning with a fantastic model of Shanghai as it is today, a full size model of the city in the 1930s and a great collection of old photos to show how the city has developed; go up the 88-floor Hyatt hotel with its views through the pollution down to the city; and of course an evening in Xintiandi, the party quarter. This is a development by a Hong Kong company with old buildings restored to a higher standard than when they were first built. With its old architecture, boutique shops, bars and restaurants and hoards of young people, it has the feel of Covent Garden. (Mind you, I can’t see a night club in London employing schoolgirls in uniform to advertise itself).
We enter “T8” (where we ate) across a small slate bridge over an indoor artificial river. The restaurant, with its gleaming exposed kitchen, extensive wine list and over-designed interior, would be more comfortable in Menlo Park, Manhattan or Mayfair than in the middle of the world’s greatest communist state. Our host Lisa asks George – now that he’s been in China for a few days – whether he wants to ask her anything. Anything at all, she stresses: it could be the one-child policy for example. After we’ve got over the first teenage-style question (“with 5,000 characters, how do you send text messages?”), his next question hits the spot: “Is China a communist country?”. Lisa hesitates, replies “Yes”, but then spends several minutes explaining how it isn’t really. This is a country undergoing a huge change.
The after-dinner activity involved 3 bars: supposedly French, Chinese and German styles. George ended up dancing with a very attractive Taiwanese girl of 22, although I was less comfortable with being left with her overweight lesbian aunt, who spoke 5 languages, but none in common with any of mine.
I knew George would enjoy Shanghai, it’s almost impossible not to. Next stop Xi’an, an ancient capital.
The Peace Hotel is on the corner of Nanjing Road and the Bund, the two most famous roads in Shanghai. Across the Huang-Pu river, it overlooks Pudong – the brash new Shanghai – with its collection of skyscrapers, each taller than the next; flashing neon lights, conference centre out of a Star Wars film set, and enormous television tower (no-one can explain to me why such a tower is actually needed, other than to show off). It is a striking contrast with the Bund on the other river bank, with its Gothic architecture which would not look out of place at Blackfriars Bridge. The most dramatic building is probably the old Customs House (now a bank), with its copy of Big Ben on top of a building that looks like Somerset House. Apparently the stones used to build the buildings on the Bund were all shipped in from England. It shows.
At the north end of the Bund is an iron bridge that could be a miniature of the Forth Bridge. Although now inadequate for the increased traffic, the Chinese have left it as an historic landmark: it marks the point where the Japanese invaded the international settlements in 1937.
Shanghai clearly buzzed in its heyday in the 1920s, and it is doing so again today. The streets teem with shoppers, salesmen, people out with friends and others just going about their work. There are old bars, new bars, sleazy bars and smart bars. There is every choice of restaurant, where you can pay London prices, or eat for just £2 a head. The shops have the latest Italian clothing, or Chinese silks, antiques, Jade or just cheap trinkets. A newspaper article reported local government worries of the population declining – a sign of economic development perhaps – but the 50,000 reduction is more than offset by the 2M people who come without permits to look for work.
With only 36 hours in this amazing city, we follow the main tourist circuit: the Bund; the Shanghai museum with its old potteries; the museum of Urban Planning with a fantastic model of Shanghai as it is today, a full size model of the city in the 1930s and a great collection of old photos to show how the city has developed; go up the 88-floor Hyatt hotel with its views through the pollution down to the city; and of course an evening in Xintiandi, the party quarter. This is a development by a Hong Kong company with old buildings restored to a higher standard than when they were first built. With its old architecture, boutique shops, bars and restaurants and hoards of young people, it has the feel of Covent Garden. (Mind you, I can’t see a night club in London employing schoolgirls in uniform to advertise itself).
We enter “T8” (where we ate) across a small slate bridge over an indoor artificial river. The restaurant, with its gleaming exposed kitchen, extensive wine list and over-designed interior, would be more comfortable in Menlo Park, Manhattan or Mayfair than in the middle of the world’s greatest communist state. Our host Lisa asks George – now that he’s been in China for a few days – whether he wants to ask her anything. Anything at all, she stresses: it could be the one-child policy for example. After we’ve got over the first teenage-style question (“with 5,000 characters, how do you send text messages?”), his next question hits the spot: “Is China a communist country?”. Lisa hesitates, replies “Yes”, but then spends several minutes explaining how it isn’t really. This is a country undergoing a huge change.
The after-dinner activity involved 3 bars: supposedly French, Chinese and German styles. George ended up dancing with a very attractive Taiwanese girl of 22, although I was less comfortable with being left with her overweight lesbian aunt, who spoke 5 languages, but none in common with any of mine.
I knew George would enjoy Shanghai, it’s almost impossible not to. Next stop Xi’an, an ancient capital.
# posted by DavidF @ 14:35 
