I have been living in Shanghai since the end of July. Each day I try hard to adapt to this new life, also try to pick up the memories that I have with the city.
I first came to Shanghai when I was 13 years old. My mother and I visited the city in a very hot summer- it was one of the few times that I ever traveled with my mother. The highlight of that trip was when we were brought up to the top of the Jinmao Tower, then the tallest building in China, and watched the Oriental Pearl glittering in front of me like a huge pinky disco ball. How cool! I thought.
In my college years, I made a secret getaway to Shanghai with a friend to see a concert. Although it was only for a weekend, to me, that was a successful escape from my boring student life. We took a green paint coated train for hours, then got on a late-night bus to a hostel. Cellphones had limited functions back then, and I remember holding a map tightly in my hand wherever I went. We stayed up late after the concert and wandered around the city. Walking on a little street, I looked up and saw clothes and bedsheets hanging outside of apartment buildings, flowing like flags in the grey sky -that scene impressed me deeply and became my visual image of Shanghai to this day.
After college, I left China for the States. Once every other year, I’d stop by Shanghai for a quick business visit. I became familiar with the surroundings of the Oriental Pearl, now looked small comparing to the new gigantic towers nearby. The infrastructure changed rapidly; what I liked was meeting some friends at rooftop bars after work, ordering a couple of drinks and observing from high up what had been added to this land.
Though I never thought that I’d live in this city. Born and raised in Beijing, I have been long told of the “feud” between Beijing and Shanghai. There is a popular joke about a Shanghainese guy taking five hours to finish eating a little Chinese crab on the train from Shanghai all the way to Beijing, cleaning up every bit of meat in the tiny claws-it vividly represents the stereotype that we northerners have of Shanghainese.
However, Shanghai is where I took my husband first in China, and for most westerners, it is by no doubt the best start of their China adventures. Most foreigners are fascinated by the grandeur of the Bund, by the narrow streets lined with Chinese parasols in the French Concession, and by the night sky covered with colorful neon signs on Nanjing road. The city looks familiar, yet foreign, and it is attractive.
So, when the decision was made to move to China, there was not much debate about “where to go” between us-we agreed that Shanghai would be the best compromise, or even the ideal destination, maybe.
Then began our process of moving back. It was mentally and physically exhausting to pull up one’s roots, ten years deep, then to get resettled thousands of miles away. There were too many things that we sold off, gave away, or left behind in a small storage unit. In the meantime, we kept questioning ourselves or were confronted with questions about whether this was the right thing to do. After all, the life that we built in New York was comfortable and thriving. Having spent a decade overseas, I have become somewhat estranged from my hometown. I do not know where this China life would lead us when everything might have to start from scratch again.
But I felt obligated to go back, before getting too old to even try. As a single child, I want to fulfill my duties as a daughter, which I’ve rarely done. In that sense, I cannot regret my choice. However, I feel indebted to my husband, who gave up an established lawyer’s life and followed me to a foreign country as a business school student. I pray that things will work out for both of us.
So here we are, with two animals, fourteen boxes and some newly purchased furniture, ready to begin our Shanghai journey in a small apartment. Many stories are yet to be told, and many to be remembered…