Gill's notes:
Hotel breakfast - Am. sunny but chilly, warms up later. Woke early, get ready to visit gardens. Need to get there early - before tour groups. Beautiful to walk around differing 'rooms'. Water and rocks, cherry blosson, bonsai. Pm. walked to Bund. Got ferry over to Pudong - snack by river on Italian restaurant - Lavazza!
The Yuayuan gardens are one of Shanghai's 'must see' spots. Built in the late sixteenth century by a wealthy merchant they are a series of water gardens linking ornate pavilions that surround the original highly decorated wooden house, a haven of tranquility from the bustling streets and alleyways of the old city. Or at least they should be, but the place is a honeypot for tourists and become so packed that most of the time they are frenetic rather than serene. They open a 8.30am. Our hotel was about a ten minute stroll from the gardens and jet-lag had made us perky by 6am. By 8.20, fully breakfasted, we were third in the short queue for the ticket office. When the gates opened a little over a dozen of us shuffled through the turnstiles. We were the lucky ones, for the first hour or so able to wander around the maze-like design at will and appreciate the haunting beauty and profound peacefulness without jostling to see a vista or lining up to cross the narrow bridges.
By ten o'clock the place began to fill up, an hour later and it was packed, reminding me of our visit to Monet's Garden where the effect of the place was entirely ruined by the volume of visitors. Major art galleries have the same problem, I don't think it is independent travellers that cause the problem but the effect of cruise ship organised trips where many people tag along because its something to fill in the time with little interest in the place itself. I will never forget our visit to Olympia, the first part of the morning was soulful and thought provoking, the latter part enlivened by the chatter from hundreds of British tour parties traipsing around the site looking bored behind minders holding-up a numbered placard to ensure groups did not get mixed up. As I stood in the museum looking at the 'Hermes of Praxiteles' an 'Edith' next to me regaled her fellow tourists concerning the more unseemly aspects of her irritable bowel syndrome; they reciprocated by repeating an interminable mantra of all the pills they were taking for this and that. In comparison today was not so bad, we seemed to be only westerners in the gardens so the guilty pleasures of eavesdropping denied to to us, and anyway the Chinese visitors were respectful of the place's tranquility, so even later in the morning when the gardens became crowded it was never frenetic.
As for the buildings themselves, mostly constructed in the 1570s, coincidently they are contemporary with the lete Tudor period, the time big houses were constructed in wood in England - think Little Moreton Hall.
The buildings here are more sophisticated and graceful than their Elizabethan counterparts whose rough hewn main beams and rectilinear design look somewhat rustic in comparison.
Nevertheless in terms of their ambiance there is a resemblance, particularly the dark panelled interiors, do have an oddly familiar Tudor feel, a solidity that is quite different to Japanese buildings from the same era which are light and airy.
The furniture looks quite rococo in its use of twisted natural forms. There is a big difference however in technique.
Rococo furniture makers such as Meissonnier were influenced by Chinese artefacts, however whereas in Europe the interwoven forms were the result of carving wood to mimic gnarled boughs, here naturally shaped wood had been carefully chosen then combined into pieces of furniture.
So each item is a unique assemblage of 'objet trouvé'. It is tempting to think that the difference between this furniture and European chinoiserie reflects a fundamentally different relationship between the craftsman and the natural. Here natural forms are appropriated and combined into beautiful things, whereas in Europe spars of sawn wood were carved to resemble natural forms; like much in Western art illusionism lies at its heart. Is it a truism to assert that Chinese and Japanese art harmonises with nature whereas the art of the West attempts to transform and control it through replication? Anyway, I found the chairs very thought-provoking!
Vistas, glimpses, natural forms framed by constructed ones, balanced masses and pleasing intervals, small delights rather than sweeping statements, the entire garden felt deliciously alien, its complex geometry non-Euclidian, the spirit on the place hinting at animistic predecessors rather than some neo-platonic archetype, it felt 'realised' rather than 'idealised'.
By chance we arrived in Shanghai during the first days of spring, In Tokyo 'sakura' would not happen for another three weeks, but the cherry trees dotted around these gardens were in full flower, many carefully positioned to be framed within a window or opening in the walls that separated one space from another.
As we as being delighted by natural forms it was impossible not to be equally impressed by the skill of the craftsman who constructed the house and its surrounding pavilions. Gables topped by spiralling dragons -
A wooden ceiling whorled like a shell -
Small figurative panels of scenes from myth and legend presumably, vivacious and joyous in their handling -
As well as the cherry trees planted in the gardens there were dozens of specimen shrubs in big pots.
Though bonsai is seen as a Japanese art, the habit of growing pruned trees in containers in fact emerged in China around 1300 years ago - called 'pun-sai' and was taken up in Japan a couple of centuries later.
In all we spent over two hours in the gardens, the experience was immersive, intense almost. The bustling streets of the old city, over looked by the gleaming towers of Pudong's financial district, came as a shock, like waking up suddenly from a beautiful dream and being discomforted immediately by the mundanities of everyday existence.
In reality Shanghai's old town is hardly mundane. Though the impressive sixteenth century city walls were demolished in 1910, most of the ancient settlement's streets were left intact.
Here too it is fascinating to simply wander, its colour, noise and the somewhat frenetic atmosphere proffering a dizzying contrast to the serenity of the gardens.
It was only late morning, so we decided to see if we could find the ferry to Pudong, Shanghai's recently developed financial district on the eastern bank of the Huangpu River. The west side near the Old City too is a recently developed commercial area, with mid-rise, slightly bland office blocks overlooking a semi-deserted broad esplanade. In ambience it was disconcertingly reminiscent of Milton Keynes.
Though the riverside walk seemed deserted the ferry was packed. It was a mystery where all the people had suddenly appeared from. Clearly Pudong was a popular weekend excursion, hopefully this would mean it would be easy to find somewhere for lunch.
The manufacturing boom in China in the late 1990s drew a massive influx of foreign currency into the country prompting massive state sponsored capital projects and the emergence of Shanghai as a leading global financial centre, third in the world these days after New York and London. The strap line 'Future Now' became the mantra of the emerging Pudong finiancial district magicked into being in the noughties. The style is eclectic. Towering glass towers predominate, overpowering monoliths of neo-liberalism.
However, given that the area developed less than a decade the architecture is refreshingly varied. For example the Oriental Pearl TV Tower is futuristic, channelling an IGN inspired vision of days to come, as imagined in a Dan Dare comic or the Jetsons.
On the other hand the nearby Shanghai International Convention Centre reflects a conscious historicism found in some low-rise post modern buildings, weirdly reminiscent of Manchester's Trafford Centre I thought.
Unlike Wall St. or London's 'square mile' the Pudong financial area is not wholly a jungle of gleaming glass high rise. The riverside has been developed as a serpentine green space and is a popular place to take a stroll at weekends. Beyond the glass wall Lujiazul Park provides another green space. We decided to give it a miss and look for somewhere nearby to have lunch.
By the early afternoon it was surprisingly warm considering it was still early March. The heat made the air quality deteriorate, a thin mist of particulates formed over the river. With a population of 25 million and a hinterland which is one of China's most productive industrial hubs polution is bound to be a problem. It was clear that the authorities have made some efforts to control it, private cars are less prevalent than in other mega-cities we have visited such as Los Angeles or Tokyo. Also the mopeds scooters and small motorbikes that throng the streets at rush hour have all been converted to electric, most of them ingenious self-builds by the look of it. Good for the environment but hazardous to pedestrians as they are silent and prone to come at you from every angle including on the pavement.
Places to eat seemed few and far between, but was happened upon a Chinese Italian restaurant advertising Lavazza. There is no way we are ever going to pass-by the opportunity for an early afternoon macchiato.
It was a good cup of coffee. I don't know why I should have expected otherwise, latent assumptions regarding European exceptionalism maybe. It is always pleasing to have your prejudices confounded, as good a reason as any to travel.
Our lunch was ok, the the restaurant's attempt at Italian food was considerably less successful than its coffee. In particular the stylishly presented prawn salad looked better than it tasted. In truth mediocre suited us fine, breakfast had been more than six hours ago, we had walked miles since then, we just needed to eat something, anything, fuel not deliciousness was our primary consideration.
We befriended a pug that had been tied to the fence next to our table, then we got chatting to his owner. It was the only time we managed to talk to a local, on the whole people seemed wary of striking-up conversations with Westerners. I am not sure if the ubiquitous presence of CCTV and the fact there tended to be a police officer at every single interchange discourages casual socialisation.
Anyway, the one person we managed to talk too turned out to be interesting. She had worked as a doctor in New Zealand for a number of years but had returned to China permanently to be with her husband. She explained, 'He cannot leave the country because he is an important atomic scientist.' She was accompanied by her niece, she too had an unusual story. When we mentioned that our daughter lived in Lisbon the girl mentioned she spoke Portuguese having lived in Brazil for the past few years. Their experience challenged my idea that China was a closed society - fuelled I suppose from memories from the 70s of masses of Chinese workers in androgynous 'Mao suits' dutifully slaving away beneath a giant poster of the god-like party Chairman. Prejudices are more easily acquired than divested. These days Forbes lists almost 400 Chinese billionaires and though the country has not yet developed a rich middle class to the same extent as in the West, nevertheless it was clear here in Shanghai that there was growing wealth and because of the size of the City alone - the biggest in the world with over 25 million inhabitants - there were lots of well heeled Chinese. So long as they avoided questioning the wisdom of the political establishment they seemed free to spend their new found wealth as they wished, including travelling for business or leisure.
After twenty minutes or so we reached the northern edge of the new financial district. Looking back a wall of gleaming glass faces you, the greenery of the roundabout accentuates rather than alleviates the seemingly endless sprawl of concrete.
Most of Pudong's hi-rise reflects the preferred vernacular of the neo-liberal financial elite, towers of steel and glass that exude power, but whose mirror-glass facades remain inscrutable. This building however took its inspiration from the art deco masterpieces of the Bund, just across the river. We headed there next.
One of Shanghai's charms is that the history of the city is written into its fabric which makes it s great city to walk around. From the mid-nineteenth century onwards European powers vied with each other to dominate trade with China, which in turn resisted economic colonisation. At first The British pre-dominated, attempting to use their monopoly in the opium trade to launch a narcotic fuelled economic war against the China. Our pursuit of the slave trade probably is the most disgraceful legacy of our imperial ambitions, but the opium wars must be a close second.
So the sight of a large Arts and Crafts house next to a Venetian Gothic style church are reminders of what amounts to an attemped genocide rather than monuments to British 'greatness'.
The former British Consulate, built in a vaguely Italianate style, similarly recalls our past imperial ambitions. In truth most of the major powers had a presence in the 'Bund', Russia, Japan and America all attempting to get a slice of the action. As in much of Southeast Asia the France too was a powerful colonising power. However they established their 'concession' a few miles to the southwest.
After the First World War British power declined as America's began to grow. This too is written into the architecture, the Bund's waterfront is full of 'Chicago-style' and Art Deco gems.
A small park used to occupy the spit of land at the confluence of the Suzhou Creek and the Huangpu River. In the heyday of colonialism it was reputed to have a sign at the gate which read, 'No dogs or Chinese'. Even if the story is apocryphal, the entire area does feel like a monument to Western imperialism, so it seems fitting that the site is now dominated by a giant installation commemorating the heroes of the revolution.
The giant friezes look much older than they actually are. The style of the monument recalls the stark, gigantic 'social realism' found in fascist and communist public art of the mid-twentieth century. In fact it dates from the early 1990s.
The place was semi-deserted, I got the distinct sense that these days younger people were more particularly interested in shopping than government propaganda.
Further south the esplanade has a less severe aspect and becomes a rather lovely tree shaded public space, a popular spot for a Sunday afternoon stroll, a place to be and be seen.
Chairman Mao surveys it all, I wonder what he would make of 21st century China, a betrayal of collectivism or a pragmatic compromise between state control and individual wellbeing.
I like this photo, it captures the contradictions of Shanghai, The people are overlooked by Mao, they stare into their smart phones, what they see is monitored and censored by the state, police CCTV cameras keep an eye on them from above, the child glances back towards his mother, basic human stuff goes on whatever.
What young Chinese people really like to do on a sunny Sunday in spring is dress-up and pose for the camera.
Some of the pictures may have been 'pre-nuptial' shots, like in Italy and Spain where some of the more artistic shots of the bride and groom are taken before the event, often in some memorable place.
Equally though there seemed to be amateur fashion shoots going on all over the place, as if a popular Sunday afternoon pastime was cosplaying an idealised version of yourself.
Something which was conspicuous by its absence was this - groups. It is very rare indeed to come across gatherings of more than half a dozen people, there is no automatic right of freedom of assembly in China, perhaps this simply makes people generally reluctant to gather together in crowds. This one definitely was organised, with a minders on hand.
Something else we saw little evidence of was other Western tourists. Most of the time we were the only non-Chinese around. Perhaps it was the time of year or the fact that the majority of people from the West opt to visit China as part of a package tour.
We got back to the hotel around 4pm. Gill's fitness App noted that we had walked over 12 kilometres. That, combinedwith the effects of jet-lag meant we needed a bit of a nap. By the time we woke-up the lights were coming on across the city.
For a while we were content to look out of the hotel window, then our curiosity got the better of us and we found ourselves walking down to the old city to admire the illuminated pagoda style roofscapes.
From there it was only a five minute walk to the riverside. The skyscrapers in Pudong on the opposite bank attempted to outdo each other with laser shows and giant animated graphics that turned their facades into screens hundreds of metres high.
What a day! Fascinating, challenging, beautiful, absorbing, confusing, knackering. It's why we travel.
