My Semi-Eco, Shanghainese Lifestyle

Trying to be environmentally mindful in a city like Shanghai takes a great deal of blind faith. It takes blind faith because almost every “recycling” or “sustainable” facility doesn’t look like that at all. In a country where I don’t speak the language or know much about local sustainability, I simply trust and hope that a few of my recyclables end up somewhere other than a landfill.

The air quality suffers in China, which means that my lungs suffer, too.

I lived in Davidson College’s Eco-House during my last academic year, so I had a relatively well-established routine in trying to be environmentally thoughtful. Of course, that routine was drastically changed when I arrived in Shanghai. In some ways, my carbon footprint has significantly increased, but in other ways, I have actually become more energy efficient while living in Shanghai.

Here’s an example of the advantages and disadvantages of an environmental lifestyle in Shanghai. In the United States, I carry around a CamelBak filled with tap water. In Shanghai, I carry around huge plastic bottles of mineralized water. The major downside is that I drink massive amounts of water, insane amounts of water according to my friends. I am always well-hydrated, so I amass piles of plastic bottles. I put them outside my apartment door with the rest of my trash, and I cross my fingers that the Tonghe employees throw them in with recycling. Or if walking on the street, I throw them into one of many old trash cans with two sections labeled “recycling” and “other waste.” I really do not know the ultimate outcome, though.

Fingers crossed that these get recycled.

Luckily, I am more energy efficient in other ways. For example, I hang-dry my clothes. The washing machines are not equipped to dry clothes, so like all the other nearby apartments, I dry my clothes on the porch or in my room. It saves energy, but I never actually started hang-drying my clothes until coming to Shanghai.

Hang-drying clothes is also a stylish way to decorate a dorm room.

Environmentalism is a complex topic for most developing countries, but especially for China. Shanghai had a global environmental spotlight for some time because Chongming Island was originally planned to be the world’s first purpose-built eco-city. As Chai Lu, Feng Ran, and I have researched throughout the semester, that eco-city has not come to fruition. Many of the environmental initiatives around Shanghai seem similar: they are great in theory but hardly executed in practice. Still, Chinese environmental efforts are definitely still active and on-going. My plastic water bottles might be plentiful, but I do believe that at least some of them are being recycled.

While the Group was Away…

This past weekend I stayed behind while most of the group traveled to Meixian. You know exactly what happened. That’s right, a trip to Han City. This outing was long overdue.

Myself, Shanel, Nicky, and Chai Lu set out early Friday morning. I don’t think any of us had been up so early on a Friday since we arrived in Shanghai. Before we arrived at Han City we made a pit stop at the South Bund Fabric Market. I toyed with the idea of having a winter coat made, but I didn’t like the shop girl’s attitude or price, so I opted out.

The visit to Han City was quite interesting. Maybe I had high expectations for the quality of goods, but many  vendors’ goods failed to live up to my standards. Thankfully, I was able to find a few items I liked. Like always, I bargained until I got the price I wanted. I am especially proud of one item, but again, I can’t let you see it. 🙂

This shopping trip I realized the benefits in group shopping. Nicky and Shanel took us to their friend’s shop. Due to the friendship formed between Nicky, Shanel, and the store owner, Cindy, we made several purchases without much bargaining. I was able to purchase a very nice “something” from Cindy at a price I knew she would never sell to anyone else except maybe family or longtime friend.

While Nicky made his purchases, Chai Lu bought iPhone cases. After she returned and we finalized our purchases, Chai Lu took me to the iPhone booth. With a little reminder to the shop keeper of the price she paid, Chai Lu was able to get me the same price. I found exactly what I wanted for only $3. And of course, I couldn’t leave with just one.

Later on I purchased Converse tennis shoes for 50¥. When Ben decided he wanted a pair, I took him to the same shop. Even though the seller tried to say I paid 55¥, Ben left with 50¥ Converses. I knew exactly how much I paid. Don’t let them play games with you.

I found a few parallels between Han City and Qipu. Bargaining goes without saying. At both places I have my preferred booths or stores, and I don’t feel the need to look elsewhere. Yes, my preferred stores are the ones with the best quality, but don’t worry, that just means more aggressive bargaining.

If I have to choose between the two, I enjoy Qipu more than Han City. Han City is for tourists, and I don’t enjoy bargaining with a tourist price. Qipu caters to the Chinese consumer. You can find a few westerners sprinkled here and there, but for the most part, Qipu serves as a cheaper alternative to H&M, Zara, and UniQlo. I thoroughly enjoy taking advantage of that.

Recently, my mom asked me about the quality of my new clothes and “fake” goods. I told her that if you know where to go, then it’s quite simple to find good quality at a decent price. Always remember to bargain, no matter the store. It doesn’t matter how many times you have purchased items from your favorite store, the sellers will always give you an initial rip-off price.

Believe it or not, this past weekend was not my last visit to Han City. In order to haul all my new clothes and such home, I need a new suitcase. Shocker! Let’s see if I can get the one I want for 150¥.

A Peculiar Piece of Shanghai

Three weeks exactly until we depart, and Justin and I decide to finally explore the infamous Hongqiao “Pearl City” Market. It wasn’t until hours later, after already thoroughly exploring the establishment, did we fully grasp how bizarre it was. Upon entry, you are not greeted with shouts and cries for attention, quite a contrast from Han City. Rather, it appeared to be a calm environment, where vendors waited inside their shop quietly, paying little mind to potential customers. Furthermore, it was (relatively) clean, un-crowded area. There was no sense of urgency or hustle and bustle. In fact it didn’t seem like a “fake” market at all.

Shortly after a quick run-through of the establishment, any notion of serenity was demolished. Never have I witnessed such discourteous behavior at any marketplace.

With over three months of serious (bargain) shopping experience, Justin and I came equipped with enough information in our knowledge-bank to get the biggest bang for our buck…or Yuan. Yet, even as the ultimate shopper duo, we were confronted with several unanticipated problems. Many times we had to walk away empty-handed. Frustrated by the complete stubbornness of the vendors, we failed to make potential good purchases…(for us) that is beyond abnormal, that is unheard of!

How was it that as seasoned shoppers who abide by the law of bargain struggled to make a deal?

For those of you whom are unfamiliar, the rule of thumb is to internally assess the value of the desired item, determine a maximum purchase price, and stick to it. If the vendor is uncooperative, walk away. Even so, this is all apart of the negation process and usually a counter bid is offered. Not a Hongqiao though. Not only was their merchandise lower quality, but the vendors were excessively rude! Charging ridiculously high prices and would actually stick to them. Multiple times, Justin or I would offer a more reasonable price, of which they would completely dismiss. Insolently a fake shoe vendor yelled “Bye!” in attempt to get us out their shop.

To top off the experience, we had absolutely no luck catching a cab. Even though the top light was on, indicating vacancy, three times consecutively, we were rejected when attempting to get a taxi. In the second attempt, the man incomprehensibly shouted at us in Chinese. Unable to get a ride home, we grabbed bite to eat and brushed our shoulders off. We tried to bargain some more with street vendors, one of which FOLLOWED us for three blocks and STILL would not concede to my asking price. This affair further reinforced the peculiarity of Hongqiao.

Even after Justin and I’s adventure, I am still at a loss for words. I don’t know what part of Shanghai we were in, but clearly their clearly conducting bizarre business. In the end, I’ll just have to chalk it up as 很奇怪 (hen qiguai=very strange)experience!

Happy Birthday, Wei! (祝你生日快乐,魏!)

On Tuesday, our Chinese teacher Wei Laoshi (魏老师) turned twenty-six years old. To celebrate my classmates and I took her out for dinner and drinks nearby campus. While walking to the restaurant, I thought about how we Davidson students have grown closer to Wei over the semester. Wei Laoshi is not a Shanghai native. She comes from a farming family in the countryside of China. Her hard work and academics brought her to Shanghai for college and graduate school. Her lighthearted personality, jokes and stories make our Chinese class interesting and entertaining. Although she is a tough professor, she is also approachable and personable. Moreover, she has made an effort to get to know each of us through our one-on-one sessions with her.

Earlier in the semester, we learned that Wei had never had a birthday party or birthday cake. She explained to us that, unlike American culture, birthdays are not emphasized in Chinese culture. Her friends never took her out to celebrate her birthday in college or graduate school. This was not considered mean or forgetful; it is simply not expected in Chinese society. This was shocking to most of my classmates, including myself, who were showered by birthday gifts and parties from family and friends every year. Wei did mention that her birthday was especially important and sentimental to her mom. On her birthday each year, Wei calls her mom on to thank her “for doing such a good job on this day X years ago.”

We were all excited to throw Wei a small celebration. Julie and I ordered a cake and appropriate “2-6″ candles. We honored Wei’s request and brought her to Helen’s, a western styled restaurant and bar. After eating dinner, we brought out the cake and sang Happy Birthday in Chinese. The restaurant even played Happy Birthday for Wei over the stereo system. Wei could not hide her excitement. With a smile stretched across her face and her eyes closed, she made a wish then blew out the candles.

The guests of the party slowly left the one by one. Soon, only Dan, Julie and I remained at the table with Wei. We stayed a while talking about life in Shanghai, love and dating. While finishing the cake, Wei introduced us to two terms: Phoenix Man and Peacock Woman. A Phoenix Man is an intelligent, hardworking man from the countryside who finds success in a big city such as Shanghai. These men are seen as phoenixes “reborn” into the urban, modern way of life. A Peacock woman is a spoiled girl born and raised in the city. According to Wei, the Phoenix-Peacock love story has been extremely popular in the plots of recent television shows and romantic movies. She knows of a few Phoenix men at Fudan and claims they all want quiet, obedient wives. I had never heard of a Phoenix Man or a Peacock Woman. This is just one example of many things Wei has taught us outside of the vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation of Mandarin. I am so thankful for time our class has had with Wei and all of the things I have learned from spending time with her. As Wei says, “You are all my friends!” And I am confident that we Davidson students all agree.

Silk Orders at the South Bund

The sound of a sewing machine rumbling reminds me of my mother. My mother, Ivy, works as tailor in a local boutique in Durham, NC. As a child, I could usually find my mother in her sewing room working on her clients’ clothes or a sewing project for fun. Many of the garments my sister and I wore growing up were custom made by my mom. My mother sewed us many things, including, smoking dresses, bedspreads, and Halloween costumes. She would often bring my sister and I along to shop for buttons, zippers and thread. While walking through the fabric store, my hands would move across the endless rows of fabric rolls; cotton, fleece, polyester, leather, silk and satin.

Last week, I made a trip to the South Bund Fabric Market in Shanghai. This market is popular among travelers and locals looking to buy custom made shirts, dresses, suits and jackets. When I walked through the front doors of the building, my mind immediately flashed back to the times I spent roaming different colors, textures and prints with my mother. The South Bund Fabric Market is a three story building jammed packed with individual vendor stalls. I was a bit overwhelmed at first; every stall was covered in fabric, model designs and finished orders from floor to ceiling. I did not know where to start.

After wandering around some, Shanel and I entered a stall on the first floor that was recommended by our professor. We were both looking to order traditional Chinese dresses known as cheongsams (qípáo). From my understanding, one or two storefront merchants operate each stall. These merchants help customers pick designs, choose fabrics and measure sizes. Orders are then sent to neighboring buildings and laborers to be made. Customers typically wait about one week to pick up their custom made pieces.

The stall we selected was about ten square-meters in area and was run by a husband and wife team. Before making any concrete decisions, we asked the storekeepers how much one cheongsam would cost. The woman merchant grabbed the calculator from her desk and typed “450¥.” We knew this was a good and fair starting price, but proceeded to bargain for a discount. In the end, we agreed to buying five cheongsams between the two of us priced at 360¥ each. So, this meant each custom made silk cheongsam cost about $60, a price impossible to find back home.

Through watching my mother sew, I have developed an appreciation for good craftsmanship and hands-on work. My mother has built up her clientele based on her quality workmanship. In the tailoring business back home charging $60 for a custom made cheongsam would result in negative profits. The South Bund Fabric Market’s low prices are made possible by China’s abundance of willing workers and low labor costs. Our vendor told us that the price of fabric and materials make up most of the retail price. The prices we encountered were lower than “off-the-shelf” items back home. For example, Nicky ordered three custom fit suit sets for the price of one off-the-shelf suit in the United States.

I see that sewing is a disappearing trade in the developed countries. It has become a specialty skill as more and more textile factories get outsourced to developing countries. There seem to be more tailoring booths in the South Bund Fabric Market building than there are in the city of Durham. The difference between tailoring prices and choices in China and the United States interests me. In my Chinese Marketplace class, my group is researching and conducting a field study of the South Bund Fabric Market. We will be digging deeper into the vendors’ daily lives, the power structure within the market and the supply chain. But, for now, I am most excited to pick up my three cheongsams tomorrow afternoon.

css.php