preface
For me, it was the wrong journey. All the belongings are packed into mini boxes and delivered to endless railway lines along with the imagination and anxiety of the past few months. From Shanghai to Kashgar, 5,000km, four months, leaving the sea, the viaduct, the miniskirt and the cafe behind, heading west to west at an uncertain speed. “Travel is part escape, part quest.” Paul? Mr. Lu said. It was in this escape and pursuit that I came to Shanghai, and the destination of others’ dreams became the starting point of my journey. On June 29, 2016, I was in Dong Jiadu, Shanghai.
1
“What do you think I am?” Uncle Jiang seemed to be asking me, and seemed to confirm it in his heart. “I am an emperor, and when it is moved I shall have a million.”
His thick eyebrows quivered at the corners of his eyes with great confidence. At a fruit stand in front of him, Thai grapefruits for $5 each paint the street in exotic bright colors.
Standing at the intersection of Dong Jiadu road and Mei Zhu Road, the houses block the late June Shanghai heat, the sky accumulates the weight, will be a block of houses very low, as if even the people who move in between are compressed. Ignoring his blue sweatshirt and cat slippers, The stooped Mr Chiang, in his early 50s, looks a bit like Tony Leung. He slowly raised his right hand in the manner of a military parade of national leaders and gestured for me to take his picture.
“Are you a reporter? Is ah? Oh, you know how often I’m on TV!” Jiang Shu a Shanghai cavity slippery, nimble movement from behind the arbor out of the bench. Say to me in a voice you can’t refuse, “Come on, you sit here and write it down. I’ll talk to you.”
He lived in Dong Jiadu for 30 years, and his life was a long story.
Some may briefly forget that Dong Jiadu, in the centre of town, is also Shanghai. Here, the fly pavilion connects the vegetable stall, chicken blood and fish scales roll off the flagstone road, and the gap is filled with market jokes; The house extends at the end of the lane, three generations in a square box. Clothes are hung out in the street, and the young are so optimistic that open-air bathing becomes a game. Here, the function of the street is extended again and again. Cooking, washing, playing cards and gossiping are all done in the sun, and the news flows rapidly from the street to the end of the street. Life is interconnected, and giving up privacy becomes a survival strategy.
In Jiang Shu’s mouth, Dong Jiadu is not called Dong Jiadu, but “broken place”. People who can live here for decades are amazing, like him, like the neighbors, “You can bend as you go.”
It is located on the bank of huangpu River and named after Dong Jia Ferry. Before a few years to the Jiaqing period, the sand boat industry prosperous commercial. The south Bund, where the market is packed with crowds, is a memory, not a present. Under the attack of the Bund and Lujiazui, Dong Jiadu’s shantytown with its overlapping houses looks rather awkward. Some people say that this is the last microcosm of Shanghai’s civic culture, but the last microcosm will also be dispersed, the demolition is approaching.
The people tied to Dong’s hukou are eager to escape and move into apartment blocks, though they cannot hide their weakness for the future because the price of demolition is out of their control.
In Dong Jiadu, only the sky is old and new.
2
In the 1980s, Jiang started his seafood wholesale business at The Shanghai South Railway Station, earning thousands of yuan a day, he said. “My face is worth money. Business is good.” The rush of morning and night did not SAP his spirit. He was young and handsome and did not know that good fortune would not always come his way.
“When I had a drink and a fight, I was caught. Later the shop was also closed, his wife ran away with 170,000 yuan.” Since then, Jiang Shu lived in Dong Jiadu, selling fruit, but never attracting business.
Uncle Jiang is proud. Whenever a passer-by makes an inquiry, he always turns his eyes down and gestures to the guests to read his handwritten price tag. He never says another word. Perhaps he knew, as clearly as a mirror, that a $5 grapefruit would never return to its former glory. “Otherwise, I would still be a big shot.”
Jiang Shu repeatedly stressed that they are great, the family are “great”, even ran away wife in his eyes also shining. Instead of resenting his wife, he admires her for her ability and talent. She is “a powerful woman who can talk to the mayor of Shanghai”. Then he began to sympathize with her. The woman who ran away with the money ended up divorcing him. “She was poor, too,” she said. “She was killed.”
He sighed, his thick eyebrows twitching. In his words, this broken family, and a “great man” son to worry about him. His son, a computer expert who grew up in England, had been out of touch for years. The boy, like a fictional character, disappears into a distant blur of England.
Now it’s all Dong.
Thai grapefruits for $5 each paint the street in exotic bright colors. Thai grapefruits for $5 each paint the street in exotic bright colors.
He has known every street here since his youth. To the east 500 meters away, a Xiaoxian sheng Jian frequently appear in the food program, but still can not block the shop dirty old. Further east, a dong Jiadu Cathedral, built in 1847, sits between two construction sites. Signs for the Shanghai Construction Machinery Industry Group and the China Construction Eighth Engineering Bureau dangle in midair.
From the old street in the name can also look at the old shadow here. The sweet smell of maltose, which used to haunt sugar-mills, melted in the summer heat; In the reed street, reeds are interlaced with each other, and rivers float on the geometric grain. Huayi Street is the first seduction of women, everywhere cotton line, batches of colored silk from the rolling sea of cotton.
Temptation is everywhere, pulling the heart.
Since 2002, Dong Jiadu has been moving and transforming. The price of demolition hostage, slow progress, on and off. In slow progress the old house was torn down, its walls like a scar. In 2014, Dongjiadu area, from Wangjia Wharf to Dongjiangyin Street, was auctioned at a high price of 24.8 billion yuan, setting a new record for Xujiahui plot. The media focused on this area and a new generation of land Kings was born. Now, a new round of demolition tide surging, some people caper, there are people worried. The neighbors talked from time to time about where they were going, and before long some of them would be millionaires.
Uncle Jiang may be one of the millionaires, demolition became his biggest concern. “Then you don’t have to sell fruit.” I felt relieved for him. “People have to do things.” Uncle Jiang planned his future. “When I get a million dollars, I’ll go into the fruit wholesale business. You’re sitting at home drinking and whoring. A million isn’t enough for you.” “He smiled and paused.” But money doesn’t matter to me now. I suffer more than money.”
3
Ducking into the East Jiangyin Street, the atmosphere of the old lane reminds people of the southern town. Space and time move in memory, 900 kilometers to the southwest, time seems to go back 20 years, that kind of narrow alley breeding, the touch of people, SLATE and SLATE pushing… With no cafes, whiskey bars or Michelin stars, from wontons for 8 yuan a bowl to shirts for 20 yuan a shirt and hair cuts for 12 yuan a pop, Dong offers everything he needs at a bargain price.
There were no young people in the 12 yuan barbershop, just elderly aunts and uncles who knew each other. The owner’s wife from Yangzhou carefully wraps an apron around the neck of a guest. “This is not a normal dress,” she says.
‘Oh, you understand! White shirt Mr. Shanghai approves.
“Of course.” The landlady responded gently and artfully. The room of 10 smooth rice, because 3 or 4 wait for the guest that cut hair and appear steaming hot, there is green luo luo in the mineral water bottle on the table, cui Cui.
“The price of the oil treatment has not gone up,” said madame, skillfully applying the gray paste to the guest’s hair. “It was the same price at 1600 yuan, but it is still the same at 4000 yuan.”
To locals, demolition is a promise of a new world. To outsiders, it is a cancellation of past efforts. Distant construction site noise regular operation, no hurry to change the ground.
Jin Yucheng Shanghai writer talked about demolition of old buildings, “such a great cohesion, old old buildings but have been torn down, such as the bund along the river, the pier, ship Qiang standing, shiliupu, Dong Jia cross a complex landscape of the livelihood of the people, especially those that are plain old detail, finally are simple lines of screeding embankments, dull green avenue.”
Electronic musician Ma Haiping is optimistic about Shanghai’s transformation. He grew up in a lane in Changning District, where the sticky texture of street life is preserved in his youth’s memory, which is both human and uncomfortable. He experienced the same discomfort in the hutong where relatives lived in Beijing, where the living space was small and sanitation facilities were lacking.
“Shanghai culture was once so brilliant in history that some locals with Shanghai complex were reluctant to part with it. However, conservatism could not hold on to the vanished nongtangs. The old Shanghai culture is disappearing and the new Shanghai culture is being built.”
4
Young people see Dong Jiadu as an archaic and conservative last gasp of traditional Life in Shanghai, but it attracts foreigners in dronumbers to salvage a decent possibility.
To them, Dong jiadu is synonymous with haute couture. Sheets of colorful fabric stretch from Nancang Street into the textile fabric market of the South Bund. Exotic faces flood into the inconspicuous three-story buildings. “Making clothes” is their common purpose. Here, for only 800 yuan, you can choose the fabric, style and even match buttons, embroidery and so on, and hand over to old tailors to make a suit for you by hand. The low prices attract foreigners working and traveling in Shanghai, who know more about the fabric market than locals do.
A maze of shops, each no bigger than a few square metres, compete for attention among the suspended garments and fabrics. Most signs are old-fashioned, named after their owners and filled with Tommy, Mike and Jenny Tailors.
Each shop is the struggle of a businessman from other places in Shanghai, filled with sweat, tears, desire and competition. Two adjacent shops look so similar in style, both inspired by Paris and Italy; The Dior, Gucci and poster on the suit, shirt and dress are similar, so it is hard to judge which one is better. As a result, there is no shortage of shops will be foreign guests hand-written recommendations or buyers show in a prominent place.
Everyone behind the counter knows that once a new customer picks him, he will stay focused for the next few years.
Shanghai Dong Jiadu: Old and conservative, or new and brilliant
Jack was the first friend I met on the South Bund.
When The second time I passed the corner of the silk stall, he was still undead beckoned me to go over to have a look, “pure silk, famous brand.” Jack, a stocky little man in his early thirties, came from Jiangxi province. After learning that I was from Hunan, he quickly replied, “Half a fellow countryman!” This is the first year he and his wife Judy have started a business in the fabric market. A few years ago the market was good and life was going well by selling counterfeit handbags and watches. No such luck now. He was squatting on the floor, with short black sleeves, khaki overalls and sandals, looking through piles of silk scarves tucked into transparent plastic bags, sunlit powder and mustard yellow fluttering around him, Chanel and MOSCHINO logos pouring from the corners of his scarves.
Warm-hearted Jack took me to meet his friends Jeanne and JoJo, two Girls from Jiangsu and Zhejiang who were also doing business in the market. Jeanne takes care of leather clothes and JoJo runs a dress shop that takes up two shops.
They were the first wave of businessmen to enter the market in 2006, a decade after they moved from the old, demolished market. If you count the time my parents had been struggling in Dong Jiadu, it would be another 20 years. Both generations left their youth between gabardine, Hangzhou silk, suede and cashmere on the South Bund.
“I was fooled by them. I made two sets, I don’t know.” Just as a customer came to JoJo to pick up his previously ordered clothes, the Huawei eyeglasses man leaned back on the fabric table and ran his fingers through the sleek black silky suit, ignoring the curiosity of his American friends who had spilled over him.
“Please give me a recommendation for your friend.” JoJo smiles and winks at the bespectacled man.
“I don’t recommend it. It’s his own business whether he makes clothes or not. I don’t take any advantage of it.” His eyes were fingering the buttons of his suit, and his face was full of principles, his chin a little crooked from his long drawl. Next to them, a Polish girl lifts her newly made orange wool coat into the air, throws her head back and screams, “It’s sooooo beautiful.”
“This is an old visitor.” JoJo whispered to me, her eyes flashing with a meaningful smile.
5
Dealing with the guests every day is what JoJo and Jeanne do most of their work and life. As “the second generation”, they also are reading age was between senior silk, leather and odd bits of seasoning, Lao shifu sewing machines were looking at fabric is how to through the stitching thread splicing, become a dream dress, was taken to Europe, America, Australia, with some people experience love, happiness and the difficulties in the work place.
Unlike the older generation, young businessmen no longer have to use calculators to bargain with foreign customers. They already know enough English to be useful, honed by international accents. Instead of reading fashion magazines and following trends, they need to update their understanding of fashion quickly, and the next guest comes in with a prediction in mind.
Even the cool, air-conditioned rooms with ceilings are different now. They remember the old fabric market before the demolition, the dense stalls open in the open, the heavy rain in summer, the hot sun in winter, the frost and snow in winter. Who wants to go back in time?
But business is not going back. “Now I wake up in the morning and wonder if I’m going to be alone all day.” JoJo folded her arms. High street brands abound in Europe and the United States. Internet shopping also offers more choices. On the other hand, rising rents and workers have squeezed profits, even if the fabric is cheaper than it used to be. What’s more, sewing has become a scarce skill.
“No young person wants to do this.” Jeanne looked helpless. Several of the tailors in her fur factory, who have been working for more than a decade, are in their 50s and nearing retirement. “It was the tailor who begged us, now it is us who beg the tailor.” “You have to coax them, or they’ll have to do it in another store,” she says. “There’s plenty of people to do it.”
Worry transforms as space shifts and develops as time progresses, and the solution is often hidden in the smooth lines. Jeanne believes there is something irreplaceable about hand-made customisation, not just online shopping. JoJo, on the other hand, wants to find a way through the Internet, which has rocked the industry. The idea came to her after a client approached her with an address recommended by a foreign website. “Sitting at home business is not automatically sent to the door, or rely on the Internet, more online to do some promotion.”
No one knows where the fortunes of the fabric market and traders will go. People who have lived here for a long time know that the world is changing so quickly that you don’t have to think about it for a long time.
6
If you live in Dong Jiadu, you will never understand its full meaning. On my last night in Shanghai, I went to the On Stage Livehouse in hongfang Art District, where electronic musician Ma Haiping will perform the final performance of his new album “Folding Traces” nationwide tour.
Electronic music is nothing less than a modern sorcery, which uses technical means to pick up, splice together and transform the scattered timbre of the universe to create a kind of unknown pleasure like visitors from outer space. The music is a natural fit for the city of Shanghai, and both are products of the future.
Ma haiping, who was born in the early 1980s, still has a vague impression of the pattern and lifestyle of old Shanghai. Lane life has its own set of rules.
However, in an expanding city, it is unrealistic to dwell on the past. In the performance named “City Lights of the Future”, Ma Haiping uses musical notes and rhythmic architecture to imagine the city, and combines the rain and rain of Los Angeles in 2019 in Blade Runner with the city of Desire in Shanghai, which is an orgy that combines past experience and virtual future.
At 10 p.m., the show is about to begin. The musicians dressed in black, DJ Jackie, trumpeter Xia Bao, keyboard player Gao Jiahao and guzheng player Wang Meng took their places beside Ma. As the musicians make their final communications, the lights are dimmed and the young people raise their glasses repeatedly, waiting for the music to invade and sink on the dance floor.
Baudelaire understood modern life as fleeting beauty and sighing. Kevin? “We’re not going to go down this path,” Kelly said. Faced with tomorrow’s problems, we will use tomorrow’s tools, not today’s… The future is a land of expanding possibilities.” In Ma haiping’s futuristic city, time and space are dead, the world is in a state of absolute, and the beauty of speed is creating a new aesthetic.
From dong Jiadu to the On Stage, you find that the future is not necessarily better than the past, and the past is not necessarily full of pride and reason, but also rooted in it.
The meaning of urban civilization is that people can have more choices. This choice is not only about the future, about technology, but also about human experience leaving indelible marks on the riverbank, a skilled response to the old life. Of course we should have electronic music, but why kill sheng Jian Bao?
Electronica smooth melody like silver plated swings in the industrial space of the wind, I swallowed a mouthful of ice lemon soda, reminiscent of the foggy Dong Jia watanabe, aging of the Catholic church, reminiscent of the roll in the color of cloth, Jack, Judy, jo-jo and Jeanne, nature also cannot forget slowly lift arm Jiang Shu, grapefruit, orange rind won a rougher texture layer, under the refraction of the sun, its light.
Resources:
- Jin Yucheng: Endless Flowers, Chen Yuanxi
- Dialogue with Ma Haiping: Shanghai at rainy Season Dusk like Los Angeles in 2019, douban musician
- What Does Technology Want, Kevin Kelly
- Documentary Dong Jiadu, Zhou Hongbo
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