Two cities bound by a glorious yet tumultuous history stand on the verge of economic supremacy on the global stage. JUSTIN FISCHER takes us on a brief tour of Shanghai and Beijing’s rapidly changing landscapes.
Shanghai: Shining, Shimmering, Splendid
Stand on the banks of the Huangpu River in Shanghai and you’ll see the future and the past engaged in a protracted staring contest. On the west bank sits the Bund. Stalwart and stone-faced, it comprises more than 10 blocks of relics from Shanghai’s days as a treaty port. This was once the city’s commercial and financial district, home to foreign-owned banks, trading houses, hotels, and gentleman’s clubs bedecked in stately colonnades and Victorian spires. For decades after the Chinese Civil War, much of it laid empty and dormant as a swath of state-owned properties moved in. In the late 1990s, however, this riverside promenade saw a renaissance and many of its stately edifices were renovated and repurposed. It started in 1999 with the opening of the restaurant M on the Bund, which still enjoys a reputation of being one of the city’s hottest tables.
Since then, a handful of luxury hotel brands have followed suit, attempting to recreate Shanghai’s heady heyday. Starting at the northern tip of the strip, there is the Peninsula. Best known for its classic afternoon tea and green Rolls-Royce limousines, it actually occupies one of the youngest buildings on the Bund; it was completed just over two years ago. However, its sleek, elegant Art Deco motifs could fool even the most discerning eye.
A few blocks south, the Fairmont Group has restored the iconic Peace Hotel to the original splendor of the 1930s, when it was owned by Victor Sassoon and known as the Cathay. Back then, it was the digs of choice for Charlie Chaplin and U.S. general George Marshall of the Marshall Plan fame. English playwright Noël Coward even completed his famous work Private Lives in one of its rooms.
Across the river, Lujiazui thrusts brazenly upward toward the sky, hell-bent on outdoing the Bund. Some might even say it already has. Just 30 years ago, this was nothing more than marshes and rice paddies. Today it’s home to one of the most audacious skylines in Asia—if not the world—and is emblematic of China’s meteoric rise as an economic power. It’s Bladerunner meets The Jetsons, a surreal landscape of geodesic bubbles, sweeping parabolas, and shimmering lights. Here you’ll find three of the most distinct structures in the city. A 468-meter column of cylinders and spheres called Oriental Pearl Tower stands like a rocket ship ready for a voyage to the moon. Scan southward and you’ll see the Jin Mao Tower. This 421-meter high pagoda of concrete, steel, and glass is built around the lucky number eight: 88 floors and each of its 16 segments is 1/8 shorter than the 16-story base. Across the street, glimmering like a cosmic bottle opener, is the Shanghai World Financial Center, the world’s fourth tallest building and home to the world’s second highest hotel, the Shanghai Park Hyatt. And the city is far from done. A third super tall skyscraper is in the works, the Shanghai Tower. When it’s completed in 2014, it will be second in height to Dubai’s Burj Khalifa.
Just west of the river, Shanghai’s future has all but swallowed up the past. The city’s Old Quarter was once a cacophonous and colorful warren of lane houses. There were storefronts selling everything from rice wine to crickets. Every year, though, more and more of the quarter is falling victim to the wrecking ball. About all that’s left now is Yu Garden, which, to its credit, has been there since the Ming Dynasty. It’s no doubt worth a visit, but the surrounding souvenir bazaar, with its Starbucks, KFC, and McDonald’s, not to mention the tens of thousands of tourists who frequent them, all detract from the serene atmosphere.
The twain finally did meet: Shanghai's hip Xintiandi district, the site of the first national congress of the Communist Party of China on July 23, 1921, is now the bastion of capitalism.
Elsewhere in Shanghai, though, the boundaries between old and new begin to blur. There is no better example of this than Xintiandi. Literally translated as “New Heaven and Earth,” this was once a community of shikumen, or “stone gate” residences, an architectural form unique to old Shanghai. Real estate developers the Shui On Group commissioned American architect Ben Wood to redesign and renovate them. The end result is a hub for upscale nightlife, dining, and shopping. In a priceless twist of irony, Xintiandi, a center of outright capitalism and consumerism, is also home to the site of the First Congress of the Chinese Communist Party.
Modern-day Beijing Beckons
With roughly 800 years as capital under its belt, Beijing covers a far broader swath of history than Shanghai. On any given thoroughfare you’re bound to encounter pieces of the past oddly juxtaposed with the present.
Tiananmen Square is an obvious starting point. Here, symbols of political powers over the ages compete for attention. The majestic Forbidden City holds court at the northern end of the square. Once home to legendary emperors like Kangxi and Qianlong, as well as venal tyrants like the Empress Dowager Cixi, the power has shifted across the street to the southeast to the Great Hall of the People. Built by volunteer labor in only 10 months, this is the beating heart of the Chinese Communist Party and its government. As a reminder of who’s running the show, they’ve adorned the Forbidden City’s main gate with a looming portrait of Mao Zedong with the inscription “Long live the People’s Republic of China. Long live the great unity of the people of the world.” Mao gazes almost as inscrutably as the Mona Lisa at his final resting place, which is flanked both by a traditional Chinese gate and socialist statues of lantern-jawed soldiers and proletarians.
Scattered about the city are vestiges of old urban life in Beijing known as hutongs. As Beijing rushes to meet the growing demands of modernity, more and more of these unique courtyard houses are being demolished and replaced with swish apartment towers and shopping malls. Sadly, those that remain are fast becoming nothing more than tourist attractions.
Among the countless sweeping terracotta rooftops in Beijing, some new exotic species have taken up residence in the wake of the 2008 Olympics. Among the most distinct is China Central Television’s national headquarters. Designed by Rem Koolhaas, it consists of two towers that lumber forward, kink at the top, and then connect at a seemingly precarious overhang. The closest visual approximation one could make is that it looks like a pair of boxer shorts. That is, in fact, what the locals have come to call it. Whatever it looks like, it is, without a doubt, one of the most distinctive designs in the world.
