July 24, 2007
A New Yorker in Shanghai
When you rent a place in Shanghai, the landlord gives you presents. This is a terrific shock for a New Yorker. My agent told me I could ask for special furniture, TVs, gym memberships — the landlady would actually take me shopping. . . . I was flummoxed by what to ask for. Finally I requested a washing machine and window screens to keep out mosquitoes. . . . My rental agent was so upset by my reticence that she insisted that the owner throw in a big TV and pay for the satellite service for a year.
. . .
I can also leave garbage outside my door against the lane wall. The first time I did, I was embarrassed: I put out a big garbage bag stuffed with unnecessary junk while my neighbors had almost no garbage at all. It was clear they used no paper products and ate every bit of food. I have not bought paper towels or anything that I can do without since.
. . .
People buy fresh food daily. They buy clothes directly from clothes carts or in markets. Things like nail clippers and cotton swabs are sold from carts in the street outside the lane, as are dishes and cups and most other household items. I went to buy some string one day and the man cut me a 12-inch piece.
. . .
Pets are new to Chinese people and they don’t know very much about them. . . . Many people are terrified of dogs, particularly given the country’s serious rabies problem. Twice when I was walking Skippy, young women caught sight of him and screamed in terror at the top of their lungs.
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4 Responses to “A New Yorker in Shanghai”
great post, India.
I can’t wait to hear more.
If you want to know more about day-to-day life in Shanghai, aside from reading the rest of the Times article, you might want to browse around on Shanghaiist. I know that the Shanghai-obsessed friend who sent this story to me follows that site.
Excellent article.
I visited China for ten days on a business trip in 2005, with stops in Hong Kong, Shenzhen, Ningbo, and Shanghai. Ten days in China does not begin to scratch a molecule’s surface.
Privacy in China is mental rather than physical. You make yourself unaware of who’s right next to you, whether it’s someone shelling beans or having an argument or brushing his teeth in his underwear.
I guess it’s a defense mechanism employed to protect one’s psyche from the crushing weight of a hugenormous population. People do not acknowledge your presence unless they have to. Opening doors for someone is almost unheard of. There is a lot of pushing and shoving and queuing, but all done in an almost detached and non-aggressive way.
And then there’s the pollution.
I’d love to go back and spend more time there. Visiting China profoundly changed my view of the world, and gave me some insight into what other people’s expectations from life are.
I don’t think I have the courage and depth to actually live there, though. Maybe Hong Kong.