The ride from Pudong to the service apartment was long, silent and unnerving. It almost seemed like Shanghai’s existence can only begin beneath its bright lights and blaring horns. Away from the title of “Paris of the Orient”, Shanghai on this side of the river was just that much quieter at 12 in the morning. I quite like this other side of Shanghai yet i looked forward to the sun rising as the city begins to awake to the dust, noise and human tide.
My sister had already informed me of the many plans she had decked out for the next two days. Along with my cousins, we were supposed to take Shanghai by storm, almost like one of those whirlwind 2 day city tours across town; that the lack of time was of the only essence in our days together. Perhaps it was so. But I would prefer to believe that my sister’s enthusiasm was due to her excitement about my arrival to “her” land. She now walks the “Shanghai” walk and talks the “Shanghai” talk, an impeccable mark of her assimilation (and yet not) into the foreign land she has temporarily called “home”.
Shanghai, indeed, lives up to expectations as a city of change. The present has a way of reminding us that the past might not have been that long ago after all. Growth and development are themes not unfamiliar to the city and as the government paves its way for Expo 2010, all I’m reminded of is how rapidly things have changed and NOT changed in a city infamous for being at the forefront of “newness”. Being in China reminds me of why I studied what I studied in the first place. The people, the bustling city life, the expansion of China’s economy, the unmistakable Chinese slogans and most of all the beauty of the Bund (though now under reconstruction). These were the very things that made me fall in love with the stories that China had to share, as the communist-capitalist land, as the geographic boundary to one the largest community of people with 56 different ethnic groups, home to large disparities between rich and poor, country that went through the Cultural Revolution and is still in search of some sort of cultural identity. I guess I miss being in academia, not for the writing perhaps, but for the tons of useless information I read that might not even be related to life beyond academia.
I love travelling especially to people watch. I profess to be one of those people who sit around cafes trying to figure out if the person beside me has some story unbeknownst to the world and is just dying to share it for fear that over-containment might deprive the world of another source of gossip. Yet in all honesty, people watching occurs because stereotypes exist and that we place people within these definitions of who is in and who is not. In an attempt to factualize that these people do indeed exist in our world, we create their story, enhance their lives and hope that he/she fits into the mould we have assumed for them. It is somewhat exciting and definitely judgmental. On the other hand, isn’t it comforting to know that stereotypes still exist and most certainly function as highlights of our days in the midst of those who try to “undo” such labels into non-existence.
Shanghai in 10 days was all about just being able to do nothing. My sister introduced me to a few fine young gentlemen. It was refreshing to meet these people who weren’t trying to re-write some convoluted social theory that related to a random sort of human behavior or kids who whined that I gave too much homework. It was genuinely a time to unwind and revisit the world as it is. That being said, I admit that being away from everything allowed me to re-evaluate my goals, passion and desires. Decisions aren’t always easy to make, especially when they are life changing. But I think the moment the plane landed in Pudong, the clockwork started unknowingly. That silent, long drive into the city was merely the part of the first glimpse at the end of a long long tunnel. Whatever happens, life will go on. As my sister said, “as much as they love me, I know they won’t miss me.”
Yet I will sorely miss them.
