These Buildings Changed Hands

I took my students to the Bund, as part of their Chinese history class.  Beyond the obvious contrast of old and new, beyond the visually arresting waterfront view, I wanted them, in groups, to each find an old Shanghai building, and find out who built it, and when and what had happened to it over the years.  Go inside, if they will let you, and see what you can make of it. 

We all rendezvoused after their primary research out on the esplanade.  They told of Russian buildings and British buildings and Japanese buildings that had been built in the twenties, built in the thirties.  The longest bar in the world, the world’s first elevator, etc.  And I took some time to impress upon this cadre of history students who were studying within a business school environment, that all of these buildings were ultimately expropriated.  For the “owners” they were all tremendous investments, corporate showcases, and testimonies of enduring permanence.  And indeed the buildings are all still here.  But when the Japanese helped themselves to all the region's colonies, in 1941, ownership of these buildings changed hands.  And when the Japanese were defeated they changed hands again, sometimes back to the original owners, sometimes not.  And when the Guomindang fled and the CCP arrived in 1949, the ownership of these buildings, and the flags that flew atop them changed, yet again.  Commerce, ownership, hegemony, always ephemeral. 

And with that, I sent them on their way.  I had a friend I needed to meet with somewhere. “I’m over at the Bank of China” he texted.   Well, where is that?  I only know all the old names for places.  New names too, ephemeral.  “You mean near the old Peace Hotel?”  “Don’t worry, I’ll come to you.” 

I was thirsty.  He’d talked about a nice place for a drink.  I was imagining something remarkably new and hip.  What did he have in mind?  We went instead to a small side street.  And it was a quite but cozy only they didn’t have any drinks.  Only tea.  I guess I’d like something a bit stronger than tea, I suggested. 

And on this street there is the old YWCA, and a small church, that families frequented for decade, after decade.  I gazed over at the iconic building over the bridge that Yankees built to let everyone know they were here.  Right down the road from the Japanese section of town that no longer has anything much to do with Japan.

Wednesday 5/30/18