One day left and I gave myself a bit of a break today. I took some shots around my hotel area, including the shantytown along the Suzhou River that is soon to be demolished to make way for new apartments.
It was refreshing to give myself a break from the faux towns and, instead, I headed off to The Bund, running alongside the Huangpu River. I walked along the embankment, joining the crowds of tourists looking up at the soaring, seductive skyline of Pudong District across the river, with its super-modern architectural aesthetic. I was struck by how much this city, with its rich colonial past, is defined by difference and diversity and nowhere is this more apparent than within its architecture. From the French Concession on the west bank of the river to the indelible skyline on the eastern side, Shanghai exists somewhere between a postmodern, Bladerunner-esque vision of the future and worn-at-the-edges colonial style.
It reminded me of a comment made by Mr Cagnardi, the Italian architect I met, that Shanghai doesn’t have it’s own architectural history, but is rather an amalgam of other nations’ styles. Maybe then, these new satellite towns are merely an extension of this phenomenon? Yet, what they cannot build into these places is atmosphere; an indefinable quality that develops over time, layer upon layer, memory upon memory. And it is this sense of suburban-esque emptiness that I am left with when compared with the drama and allure of The Bund’s megastructure skyline.
I wandered back to the hotel to pack and head out for a final meal with Giel and Jini who had invited me to quite a swanky restaurant. Great food, but the sort of place where the waiter brings over your meal for the evening, alive and wriggling, to see if it meets with your approval. I mean, what was I meant to say?!
