Village Voice October/November 2013 | Page 21

A ROOKIE WESTERNER IN CHINA Shanghai Pudong Airport is by no means quaint or oldfashioned. Decked in up-to-the-minute technology and encased within sweeping modern architecture, it sits in the sweltering outer suburbs of Shanghai as a symbol of China's progress. The pitter-patter of noise from the queues at Customs is muffled by the enormity of the structure. A chanting football crowd from Wembley would struggle to be noticed here. Large fans blow wet air around the terminal to help 'aliens', as foreigners are called on their arrivals card, adjust to the immense heat of July after the cold, conditioned air on the plane. However, nothing can quite prepare you for the extraordinary heat outside - extreme heat that exists even at seven o' clock in the morning. Your clothes quickly begin to absorb the beads of sweat your body seeps in protest. With rush hour in the city, and the prospect of the fare meter rocketing in motionless traffic, frugality takes a bus. All curtains are drawn, and the air-conditioning whistles at full throttle, as the bus coughs and splutters its way towards Shanghai's city centre. A peek through the curtains shows a mass urban sprawl, of which the suburbs are decrepit and barren. Shacks of housing sit askew and uninhabited and old factories lie worn and tired in the shadows of shiny Shanghai. Sky highways, built to help the dense flow of commuters in and out of the city each day, remain under construction and in fragments. Cars and trucks clog the roads and glisten in the early morning sunshine. Suddenly the Maglev train, which would have left the airport moments ago, shoots past the bus at 200mph without a flicker of a delay. It will reach the centre of Shanghai in a crisp seven minutes. The bus, however, trundles for over an hour to the same destination. Off the bus, and under the shade of the tree, it's time to hail a taxi. With Chinese eyes as they are, interrupting the taxi driver's peripheral vision requires more than a mere flick of the fingers. You could be performing a rendition of Cirque du Soleil's headline act on the pavement beside them and they still wouldn't bat an eyelid. What is more, there is no sign of 'the knowledge' and so you are expected to give the exact intersection of the roads of your destination. And, if you do not have a word of Chinese on your tongue, you should have the address written down in characters and hope that the driver is not illiterate, which is occasionally the case. Ultimately, taxis are a cool, refreshing oasis on the hot streets of Shanghai and do not charge much for their service. Conversely, real estate in the city is relatively expensive. This is despite the huge number of residential blocks across the city - mostly brand spanking new - that sit unused and empty. This surplus of housing stems from the government's aim to capitalise on China's current cheap labour force; it will cost them less to build these residences now and leave them empty for ten years than build them in ten years' time when the cost of labour will have dramatically increased. All land is government-owned but the Chinese can buy the property. Generally, the Shanghainese population live in vast blocks of flats, which protrude above the skyline. Unfortunately there are no majestic Georgian townhouses or leafy Eaton Squares in Shanghai, (or at least there are no Chinese equivalents). The majority of expats live either in hotels or apartments. 19