Last days in Shanghai

The purchase of tickets on a ship to Tsingtao required a visit to the docks. To make our trip a little more interesting, we were confronted with torrential downpours caused by Typhoon Ed that hit shore as a tropical storm just north of Shanghai.  In 30 plus degree weather, cold was not an issue however, with rain streaming down our faces and limited visibility, it did make finding the ticket office a bit more interesting.  No line-ups greeted us like every purchase we’d made for transportation in China.  This should have been a warning.  Interactions with Chinese clerks were always challenging because we knew almost no Chinese and they knew no English.  This particular purchase proved even more challenging because we first had to grab the attention of a woman who didn’t want to serve us in the first place.  Two gweilos interrupted her otherwise peaceful afternoon so she ignored our pleas until they reached the level of irritation that defied ignorance. 

A few days after the purchase of our outbound ship across the South China Sea, Mr. Ye approached Nicola, Marilyn and I with an invitation to participate in a television commercial for the state television.  After the shock of discovering that commercials actually existed in a communist state, we gracefully accepted.  Mr. Ye told us to dress in our best clothes so I discarded my shorts and tried on a pair of pleated, blue cotton pants that the University of British Columbia wrote was expected in a country where shorts were considered unacceptable.  Too bad, the Chinese hadn’t received the same memo.  We were also told to bring our own toilet paper which led Myrna, one of the older ladies in the course, to ask Nicola to be her roommate.  She feared she’d be forced to bunk with Lorna, another woman her age, who had failed to bring her own.  Ironically, when Nicola invited both women to our wedding in a remote and freezing Tumbler Ridge, they came together.   You just can’t fight providence. 

I had lost so much weight from the heat and eating a fat free Chinese diet, that my special pants barely hung on my waist and looked ridiculous.  Both Marilyn and Nicola wore loose fitting, cotton dresses that were ideal for the climate.  Before going to the location, we detoured to a local beauty parlour.  Nicola’s hair was already short so little could be done with it while Marilyn received an unwanted and unneeded haircut in a style she never imagined for herself.  To make matters worse, her middle-aged hair dresser announced that trying to make a nice haircut with her hair was like trying to make a beautiful dress out of a cheap piece of cloth.  I received no such scolding by the feminine young man who blew dry my hair to the same bouffant perfection as his and many of the hair of other, young, stylish men of Shanghai.  Once finished, it stood about three inches above my hair with the same helmet like appearance as John Travolta’s in “Saturday Night Fever.”

Filming took place in the bar of the ­­­­New World Shanghai Hotel, the latest and greatest of Western hotels in Shanghai back in 1984, at least from the Chinese point of view.  The main filming took place in the bar where, just to the side, a long curving staircase led from the main floor to the restaurant just above.  Windows extended the full two stories providing enough light that the obviously inexperienced director felt no need for fills or reflectors.  Upon our arrival, one glance at us, or more specific me, and he’d decided that we just weren’t “it.”  So, instead, I presume he went looking and sure enough, he found “it” in a young couple dining in the restaurant just above our heads on the second floor.  They were both wearing shorts, the girl’s being considerably shorter than the guys.  They were both attractive but really, what the fuck? I kept thinking.  You dress me up like a buffoon and then abandon whatever idea one of your flunkies imagined as the ideal young Western man only to prefer what I would have worn normally if you’d asked.  While the tourists danced to the piece of junk boom box the Chinese were attempting to advertise, Nicola and I were relegated to a table by a pillar supporting the staircase while Marilyn balanced the image of white folks lovin’ the beats by sitting at another table by the windows on the other side of the room. 

We received a plastic wallet and key chain from the same manufacturer, something like Shanghai #2

Me (with the hait), Nicola, and Mr. Ye

Radio Factory.  However, the real compensation for putting up with all that nonsense was lunch with Mr. Ye.  We’d both felt a connection to the man and I’m not sure if it was because we were looking for something from him or vice versa.  Nicola and I both had very empathetic fathers who leaned toward the left on the political spectrum.  we grew up in families where money was valued however not worshipped.  Occupational ambition had not been encouraged for either of us.  We were encouraged to love learning and to be good to people.  Both our fathers were promoted to become school principals by default.  Their superiors recognized their leadership capacities and encouraged them to apply for principalships.  They didn’t have to sell themselves. Both spoke out when they believed that others were being wronged.  And both were maligned by their superintendents toward the end of their careers.

Final Dinner

I felt the same about Mr. Ye.  He wanted what was best for his country.  He lived through the cultural revolution.  He embraced the free exchange of ideas and he complained to us that change wasn’t happening in a manner that he would like. He loved literature and enjoyed talking about the books we’d read.  He sought recommendations for English books he should read in the future if he could get his hands on them.  And he told us about his wife and infant son that he cared about deeply. 

Chinese showing their pipes.

On the last day of the course, before we all travelled our separate ways, the instructors and translators held a final banquet in our honour.  As a final gesture of cultural exchange our Chinese hosts regaled us with a few songs they all learned from school or as loyal Mao followers we’ll never know.  We responded with a Beatles song or two, a rendition of “This Land is Your Land” and the title song for “The Beverly Hillbillies.”  Our final going away anthem was, of course, “Auld Lang Syne” at which point, I’m embarrassed to say, I became verklempt and snuck off the washroom.  The emotional impact of that song has remained with me ever since.  Perhaps, it’s always been there. 

Daily life for students at East China Normal University - 1984

Life as a student at East China Normal University in Shanghai eventually developed a routine.  At 7:30, we ate breakfast in the cafeteria.  This consisted of a sticky bun and black tea served in a clear drinking glass without a handle which, like the Chinese, we became practiced at holding without burning our fingers.  On the train, I’d see Chinese gentlemen pour water from a thermos into a clear glass canning jar with loose green tea leaves on the bottom.  When finished, he’d pour more water in with the same leaves. 

The classroom we abandoned for air conditioning

At 8:00, we attended classes in the dorms’ only air conditioned room on the second floor.  Instead of desks, we sat at a long, rectangular table.  The professor lectured while seated in the centre with Charles or Mr. Ye, our translators, by his side.  The room also served as our access to the summer Olympics where we could watch the one television in the dorm. That year, China participated in their first Summer Olympics since 1952 so there was lots of coverage.  Obviously, we knew little about the performance of Canada at the games.  Nor was it easy to find out without shortwave radio.  So, we found ourselves cheering for the Chinese.   

Yuyan Gardens

Occasionally we would use the afternoon to visit a local site. One was to the Yuyuan Garden in Shanghai, very different from the British or European gardens grown with which we are accustomed.  Yuyuan Garden featured finely shaped bushes, pools and interestingly contoured rocks.  Inside red trimmed Chinese pagodas and walkways windows and openings are carefully placed to add to frame a small part of the garden.  Unlike the large garden parks built by the British and European aristocracy designed for walking and contemplation, these seemed designed more for meditation in keeping with the Buddhist foundation of their religion.  For us, it was a peaceful respite from the crowds that swarm in all directions just outside its walls. 

View from museum window

Another afternoon, we visited the French quarter where beautiful tree lined streets and old, run-down colonial houses offered a stark contrast to the cement and tarmac only areas found in much of rest of Shanghai.  Mr. Ye pointed out embassies and high commissions as we passed large stately manors built by the French. We stopped at a museum that mainly consisted of small artifacts such old china and pottery displayed in dusty old cabinets with descriptions in Chinese.  A Chinese mummy and the view from one of the upper windows provided the only sources of interest.  Nicola’s strongest recollection of the visit was the sound of a talented pianist practicing in the building across the street.

Playing the Erhu

The university organized a tour to a local fine arts school for us to see.  We watched one class of young children aged eight to ten practicing the violin and another class of children the same age performing ballet.  Another class sawed away at the Erhu, also called a southern fiddle.  About the size of viola, and played like a cello, it wails with the same quavering sound of female singers in Chinese opera.  We’d previously heard the Erhu at the Chinese opera Mr. Ye took us to on the first night of our arrival.  Jetlagged and bored, I slept through most of it lulled by constant stream of background white noise created by audience chatter.  The courtesy of silence did not extend to the protocol for attending a performance.  Mr. Ye translated the action on stage for Nicola sitting beside him so she didn’t get the luxury of sleep that evening. 

Computer class

Each class in the school gave us a performance and being white and therefore significant celebrities for these children, we clapped enthusiastically to show our appreciation.  The existence of classes in acrobatics and computers most surprised us. I’d always associated the acrobatics with balancing acts with the circus.  Here children learned the art at a very young age.  No wonder the Chinese circus amazed audiences around the world.  Computers had only recently been introduced to the Canadian classroom, so to witness children of an elementary age keying programs into clones of the Apple II here in China was a little unexpected. Obviously, these children had been carefully selected to pursue a single talent to perfection.  No wonder China advanced so remarkably over the next three decades.  Although, a phys. ed. class was not included on our tour, it’s no stretch to imagine this same practice being used to mold world class athletes. 

A rural commune located close to Shanghai offered a glimpse of the idealized communist lifestyle.  Farms provide one of the better venues to demonstrate egalitarianism.  Both Mao during the Cultural Revolution and Pol Pot of Cambodia believed the egalitarian ideal was to be found in the countryside.  So that’s where they sent their educated elite such university professors, doctors, engineers, and teachers, to the rural commune. 

Like the Hutterites, everyone lived in long rectangular dorms with matching structures for the pig

Brian inside commune apartment

sties.  Two story cement buildings accommodated everyone in small apartments.  In the main living space of those apartments, each had a couch, table and chairs, and a tiny kitchen.  Beneath the glass protecting the wood table were photographs of the family in front of various landmarks such the Great Wall and the Temple of Heaven in Beijing.  It pleased Nicola to see further proof of her stereotype that the Chinese will pose in front of any landmark just to prove as proof of their visit.  Their English counterparts would share this love of their own image with the introduction of Facebook and selfies. 

Our guides insisted we climb to the roof of the apartment so that we could see the solar panels used for heating water.  Never having seen the like in Canada, we were sufficiently impressed. 

Solar panels for heating water

Members of the commune served us a lunch in a cafeteria at large round tables traditional used by Chinese as most of their dishes are shared. Nicola claims emphatically that the meal was “more delicious than we had at any restaurant in China.” We argued the point in Beijing after enjoying a particular scrumptious meal of Peking duck in a crowded restaurant where we’d had to share a table with a couple of Chinese fellows.  I thought it to be the best tasting meal we’d had since arriving in China to which Nicola with her comment about the commune meal and then we engaged in one of those impossible arguments that no can really wins like what’s the best band in the world.  With only a few bands in existence at the time, it was an argument that could be had.  Now, even more pointless than it was then.

Like most tour groups visiting China today, we too were taken from one factory to the next where we

Carpet factory

witnessed the labour intensive work required for ivory sculpture, needlework, and carpet making.   After, of course, there’s always the showroom with all their handiwork on exhibit for purchase.  We should have been outraged by the use of ivory however we could not help being amazed at the detail carved into the many tusks on display.  The same with the needlework that featured transparent screens of goldfish swimming or birds or flowers. I kind of wish I’d bought one because I’m sure the prices were a lot less than they are now.  That said, I wouldn’t know what to do with it now any more than I did then. The qualities and prices at the carpet factory made me think like an entrepreneur.  Could I create an export/import business for trade with China?  Obviously I might have been very rich today if I had.  After all, we’d developed some connections at the Normal University in Shanghai. It would only have been a matter of building on those.  Or, maybe not. 

Needlework factory

I never even considered the possibility of manufacturing consumer products in China even though we’d learned about economic zones in class. Deng Xiaoping and the communist party had created a number along the coast no long before our arrival. Apparently, they were a huge success. I still don’t understand how they rationalized inviting corporations to produce vast quantities of consumer goods within the parameters of the communist ideology.  Maybe they knew what they were doing.  According to Bloomberg News, in 2012, “the richest 70 members of China’s legislature added more to their wealth last year than the combined net worth of all 535 members of the U.S. Congress, the president and his Cabinet, and the nine Supreme Court justices.” 

Me holding my bike and Honore's

Most afternoons, we were free to do as we pleased.  I rode my bike everywhere, sometimes with Honore but mostly alone.  The experience of being the lone white man clad in burgundy shorts and Hawaiian shirt listening to Wang Chung (yes I did) or UB40 or the Rolling Stones on my headphones attached to a Sony Walkman while surrounded by hundreds of black hairs wearing identical blue or green, cotton Mao suits and white, polyester, button-up short sleeved shirts was absolutely surreal.  At intersections, hundreds of us would all crowd up to the stop line with no car with no cars to interrupt the flow of this massive stream of bicycles. 

Swimming pool - International Club

Nicola and I frequented a number of expat hangouts during our free time in Shanghai.  Inside the art deco interior of the Jinjiang Club, we could swim, bowl and drink.  We preferred the outdoor pool at the International Club and we only bowled once because it required running to the end of the lane and manually replacing the pins on their spots after every player but the full array of Western alcohol in the small intimate bar was excellent. 

East bank - Huangpu River - 1984

The Bund is a famous road that runs along the west bank of the Huangpu River, the major water front running through Shanghai.  In 1984, the view from the bank included junks with their strange, triangular sails, one amidships and another, smaller one at the bow.  On the other side were wharfs and docks where ferries load passengers and cranes haul goods onto freighter ships ready for transport anywhere in the world. 

East bank - Huangpu River - today

From that same spot today, you see a space age skyline like a scene from the Jetsons with skyscrapers like the Oriental Pearl TV Tower which looks more like a space station than a building or the Shanghai Financial Centre that looks like a giant sponge.  The Peace Hotel on the west bank of the Bund with was another popular ex-pat destination.  Inside was the only post-office where the clerks always seemed to be taking their afternoon sh shi or siesta, a great frustration to Nicola who must have sent more letters than the rest of us.  It was always a good place

Peace Hotel lobby

to stop for tea or a beer.  One evening, we discovered a big band on stage playing Glenn Miller era songs to the enjoyment of the elderly crowd of Western tourists.  A few of us from the University sat down to enjoy the music and practice our social dance skills that I never thought I’d use in a regular setting. 

One night, toward the end of the course, the Zimbabwe students held a party for our benefit.  They were in the same dorm but on a different floor.  It wasn’t easy being a black student in Shanghai.  The Chinese held a strong prejudice against the black Africans and so it can be a lonely existence for these students.  There were no female students from that country.  One particularly muscular African had taken a strong liking to Nicola.  Sometimes, at lunch, when she became bored with the middle-aged women or upset with their conversations about gastrointestinal difficulties, she would eat with the Africans.  She said I was always listening to my Walkman and so, not an alternative source of conversation. So, it’s no surprise that this guy got ideas.  To prove his superior masculinity, he challenged me to hit him in the stomach as hard as I could.  I gracefully declined.  Earlier in the evening, I had asked language they spoke in Zimbabwe to which he replied, “English.”  I was both embarrassed and amused.  It was an interesting evening and a chance to let loose just a bit. 

During our first week in Shanghai, I rode my bike with our profs, Brian and Honore, to the Jinjang Club where we shared a beer in that bar.  Brian talked of how fantastic and exotic it was to be riding a bike in the newly opened Shanghai city.  With the massive globalization taking place today, visiting a country that’s had little or no contact with Western culture is just not possible.  Even though, the two professors missed their families, they really enjoyed exotic life of Shanghai.  The honesty of the Chinese people impressed them immensely.  Someone had left a ten fen note (about 3 cents) in the bathroom of the visiting professors’ accommodation.  Brian exclaimed that it still taped to the mirror after a week and a half.  Why one of the cleaning people didn’t take it, he could not understand.  It was worthless to them.  They were a little disappointed by the age of the students they’d attracted.  They’d expected a younger more adventurous bunch.  These women were so needy, they complained. 

That said, as the course proceeded, the women did prove more resilient than Brian or Honore had predicted.  Almost all decided to extend their stay in the Middle Kingdom.  Most booked train tickets to Xian where the terracotta warriors can be found.  Nicola was quite adamant that she didn’t want to travel with the group.  So, we decided to take a boat up the coast to Tsingtao.  We would go from there to Beijing where Nicola would catch a return flight to Vancouver.  I would stay an extra day in the capital and then fly onto Tokyo for a short visit before returning home myself. 

Charles, ?, Julia, Kathleen, Peggy, Aaron, Don, Marilyn, Mr. Che, me, Mr. Ye
Front row: Honore, ?, Myrna, Kim, Eleanor. Nicola and Lorna