Poll Dancer by Keith Ng

"From Shanghai", from Melbourne (Part 1)

Some experiences define your perception of a place. I visited China just before Christmas, and what defined it was when a kid, around 6 or 7 years old, came and grabbed my leg, begging for money.

It was in Suzhou, a famous tourist spot about an hour from Shanghai.

I'm not sure if it made it worse, but the kid was very "professional"; he was posted on a bridge, so there was no way around him; I saw him "mark" me from about 20m away, but didn't make a move until I was two steps away; he grabbed my leg and refused to let go until I gave him money.

One passing local grinned at how utterly helpless I was against this kid. I guess I was a little bemused, too, knowing that this was routine that he regularly practiced with, I assume, some success.

Later on, at a famous historcal estate (a retreat for scholars and A-list cultural elites in centuries past), an old woman was scrounging through the trash looking for plastic bottles (to be recycled for money - very, very little money).

Back in Shanghai, a man who had suffered severe burns to his face was prostrated on the streets begging for money.

--

Nobody really *begs* in New Zealand. On rare occasions, people ask for money, but really, I'm not sure if the concept of "begging" - as in geniunely grovelling, without a shred of dignity - even exists in New Zealand.

I swear to you - see it once, understand what it means for poverty to grind a human soul into nothing, then you will appreciate what the welfare state has done for New Zealand.

--

They say that Shanghai is the jewel of China. It was terrifying. I wouldn't say that about many cities (granted, I haven't been to Bagdad lately), but Shanghai is more than a mess, it's an omen.

As the brochures say, the shopping in Shanghai rivals any city in the world. The neon-glazed streets were full of opulant baubble from the wanky brands of the first-world, modelled by skinny blonde models, in abundance and variety to rival any modern city in the world.

It's the carrot that's dangled in front of the city's donkey - the educated, white-collar middle-class. They drive the engine of capitalism that runs the city, and they in turn are driven by the relentless consumerism of the city.

Shiny watches, senselessly sexualised cellphones, miscellaneous trinkets on skimpily-clad models... The tabacco companies, of course, have been very successful. About three-quarters of the population smokes. The other quarter are lighting a cigarette or buying some.

Even getting on a regular commuter train was a near-stampede. A few older women were screaming out as they were crushed between the crowds and the barriers, while others were giving as good as they got nearby. The place was dynamic alright - a perpetual state of pandemonium.

(To be cont.)