Shanghai, China—a provincial-level city in southeastern China with a population of 24 million people—is exactly 6,979 ½ miles from Keokuk, Iowa. I made the decision, over a period of many months of applying to universities and filling out government forms, to live almost 7,000 miles from home. The question I get most often, both here by those passing though and when visiting home, is Why?
The answer is not satisfying, but it’s the only honest one I have: I’m not sure. I spend quite a lot of time reflecting on just what the hell I’m trying to accomplish here—and maybe this is a useful exercise in-itself. The time spent not questioning my existence is divided between three main activities: studying, adventuring, and interning at a gallery near the city-center. This column will mostly be about these four topics. This week will be dedicated to telling of seeing the sea.
While Shanghai’s city borders technically touch the sea, to visit by taking public transportation is a chore. However, growing up within spitting distance of the Mississippi River, I need to occasionally visit bodies of water, so when my classmate Rory suggested we go, I pounced. We met up at a faraway metro stop in order to get a bus that would take us the rest of the way. My solo train ride was surprisingly quiet; the bus ride was crowded and smelly, with the cries of children and scream-talking of locals mixing into a chorus with the steady beeping of the on-board turn signal indicators and sporadic honks outside.
When we arrived at our stop, we noticed a film of something-og (fog or smog?) over the sea and scene—which included a medium-sized Ferris wheel with the ocean on one side, and a mix of buildings with European and Chinese-style architecture on the other. The area was packed with people, ordering from food stalls, standing along a large deck area, and playing on a sad-looking beach area. We decided to keep walking, seeing a few beautifully-kept parks, eventually stumbling up on what seemed like a large sea wall with the gate wide open. We walked atop the wall for 25 minutes or so. Rory had brought a kite, and the wind was perfect. We flew the kite for quite some time, almost maxing out the string at just over one-quarter of a mile as confused strangers walked by looking for the kite, exclaiming in delight when they saw the long-tailed speck high in the sky.
After bringing the kite back down to earth, we decided to explore some more, finding another open gate (this one was lined with razor wire though). The attached stairs led to the bottom of the wall on the sea-side, allowing us to walk along and interact with people who seemed to be making their living by catching what they could—barnacles, fish, crabs, and the like. We walked for a long while, coming upon an intense scene of three men and a boy watching a fourth man walking in knee-high water that was secluded from the sea. We watched for some time as he disturbed the water, occasionally reaching in quickly and coming back empty-handed each time. He began clearing rocks, glass, and plastic out of the water, I suppose to give him a better angle at whatever he was going for. At last, he reached with both hands, coming out of the water like lightening with a fish between his hands and a look of pride on his face. The crowd that was gathered let out all the noises of satisfaction—a few cheers, some sighs of relief, and Rory with a classic “All riiight, well done.” We spent the rest of our time watching the water before making the long ride back.