Interactions with a stranger, who’d, felt familiar to you, translated…
As I left the bar, the gathering of foreigners in Tienzifang, followed the maps on Baidu, I was riding the bus to Fuxing Zhong Road, about to walk to the new square. It was crowded where I got off the bus, on the narrowed streets, there were rows of French parasol tree. I’d, walked on, and bumped into a half-demolished house by the side of the roads, with the broken down, abandoned bicycle discarded close by, the weeds growing everywhere, like a ruin. I could tell, that this place was once the Shikumen.
I’d not thought on it long, I’d immediately allowed the broken pebbled road lead me, picked up my camera, took photos of the entryway. As I’d clicked my shutters, out of nowhere, a tall man was taking his bike, leaving the entry, as he saw me, he’d smiled courteously, showing that dimple on his cheeks. As he got closer to me, the second before we’d bumped shoulders, he’d picked up the camera he had around his neck, said to me, “look, there’s a lot of pretty graffiti inside”. He’d pushed the buttons with his finger tips to show me, the colorful prints flashed by one by one, it was, truly, beautiful, it’d made me anticipated entering into the ruins even more. As I’d thanked the man, we’d gone separate ways.
I’d felt that unknown sense of familiarity toward that man for some reasons. I’d just, turned around to look at him, before I’d, entered the ruins.
I’d set foot down those pebbled paths, and, creaked through the small passage, to the not-completely demolished Shikumen. The area had been, long deserted, the wooden doorway was filled with cement bricks, blocked the entryway to the house, that cut out Chinese character of “Blessing”, covered with dust, still glued to the front door. The wash basin by the door was already cracked, with the pipes showing, it’d looked, desolate. The only thing that made the place come to life were perhaps, the graffiti on the walls, the radiant colors was hard for anybody to ignore, becoming a sharp contrast to the grayed walls. I’d taken a few shots of the graffiti and was done, moved toward the other end of the ruins.
Not far off, the elderly people stood between the quarters, a place where the bulldozer dipped in, chatted away. I’d moved closer to them, they were speaking using the Shanghaiese dialect. I’d asked them about Shikumen, as they were about to answer my inquiries, they’d curiously inquired if I was from Taiwan, and wondered why I was so intrigued by the ancient ruins. Actually, they didn’t understand what I was researching, but as they’d heard that I majored in the Chinese department, they’d grinned and said, “Good, help pass the culture of China to the rest of the world.” I could hear the ideologies behind their words, and casting it aside, there are, rarely any praises for Chinese majors in Taiwan, after all, everybody is already used to, placing it in the line of “not being able to turn it into a viable source of income”; and, it was, quite strange, hearing someone giving in commends.
The elderly got to know my backgrounds, and started talking about the demolitions. They’d complained on and on, about how the government casted the people aside, had rather put the money into developing the more populated areas. They’d asked me if there were similar encounters in Taiwan? I’d recalled the cases of land developments in Dapu, of Wenlin Estate, the assortments of cases where the government repossessed our land, even as we owned the lands, as the government wanted the blocks for uses, we couldn’t, stop them from taking our lands too.
I’d asked them didn’t the government give them reimbursements for giving up their lands? They’d stated, that home is home, is home. Then, there’s, that sink in the tone of the elderly’s voice, they’d not wanted to say goodbye to the memories too early, and decided, to last until the last moment before the mandatory moves. They’d stopped for a bit, then, changed their tones to smoother, sighed how things are changing so quickly in Shanghai, that perhaps, soon enough, they wouldn’t, recognize this city they’re living in. I’d not prodded anymore, fearing it might, rouse up their sorrows, just heard them carry on in their conversations. And, I’d turned my head around, to see this sight of ruins, as if attending the funeral of my distant relative. The wind blew, but, for the traveling man, I couldn’t understand things too deeply, just knew, that as we’d, stayed a long time in a place, we’d, set our roots down there.
As I’d finished shooting that last set of graffiti and wall, I’d put up my camera. And, came the man’s voice from the distances, “You lady, you’re in the wrong place, the graffiti I’m talking about is on the other side!” Ahh, it’s him. That man I’d, bumped into at the entrances, he’d turned back with his bicycle.
We stood there, talking in another hole of the abandoned ruins. He’d not caught my accent, asked me where I was from, as I’d told him Taiwan, he’d fallen silent for a long time, then, slowly told me that he too, was from Taiwan. At that very moment, I’d finally gotten to understand, that this sense of familiarity came from his accent. This was the very first person from Taiwan I’d met outside of school, I was, overly excited by it.
The man had been working in Shanghai for five years, he’d told me, there are already, half a million businessmen from Taiwan in Shanghai currently.
The man told me, that in these past five years, he’d clearly felt that Shanghai was changing fast, the new building came out one by one, taller than the last. And still, the traditional stone paved residents were, demolished by the bunches, leaving those like Tienzifeng, the New Square that showed modernization, the man also sighed, that he’d decided, to visit ALL these abandoned ruins in the city of Shanghai one by one. He’d turned on his cell phone, called the information of the ancient sites on a webpage out, told me how to use the temple as my starting point, how get to another sight, “There’s still an old building there, you must go and see if quickly, otherwise, it will be, gone for good.” His eyes shone brightly, like two brightly lit lamps, out of a ruin.
I’d asked if he’d liked it here, he said, “Rather than say that I’d liked it here, I’d become, more acquainted to this place.” I’d not just heard once about how the Taiwanese who came to work talked of their interpersonal relations here upset. The Taiwanese men’s softer tone of voice, their mild temperaments, were laughed at for being “sissies” by the locals. Just like how we’d made fun of the elderly folks who spoke Chinese with a Taiwanese accent too, or how the natives spoke with a lifted tone at the end of each and every word. Sound is a sort of a symbol for culture, a sign of political means.
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As we said our goodbyes, I couldn’t help, but turned around, watched him walk in opposite directions. In a foreign place, bumping into someone from Taiwan is easy enough, but getting to know the person is truly nothing easy.
He still had his back turned to me. Suddenly, I’d hoped, he could, turn around. If he had, I’d liked to thank him, for accompanying me awhile; if he’d turned around, I’d, asked him for his WeChat account; if he’d turned around, I’d wanted to ask him to see Shikumen with me; if he’d turned his head around, I’d asked him why he’d, turned back especially; if he could turn around………
But nothing, I just, quietly, watched him, turn the corner at the intersections up ahead…
So, this, is an encounter, that you wanted to keep going, but eventually, you two strangers who’d exchanged that long conversation about everything AND nothing had, come to an end, and, chances are, you will probably, never bump into this same man again, or maybe you will, depending on whether or not fate has plans for you two to meet back up again or not…
JUST the Unwinding of Thoughts 