Long Time No See, Shanghai
Having always lived in Beijing, I have no longing for big cities. For my vacations, I choose to get close to nature, accompanied by mountains and rivers, befriend streams and seas.
Suddenly, I felt like visiting Shanghai.
Many years ago, we stopped here for just a day as a transit point on a trip to Suzhou. Thinking back, it’s been almost twenty years since then.
Everything unfolds in the best possible way!
A blessing fell from the sky: in the last quarter of this year, enjoying a lavish extra-long holiday that couldn’t be wasted, I planned to take my parents on a trip every month.
Shanghai, called the Magic City, stands proudly at the mouth of the Yangtze River in the Yangtze River Delta. Exotic historical buildings line the streets, radiating a unique cultural atmosphere. Many financial institutions have their headquarters here, highlighting its important position in China’s capital market and earning it the name “Pearl of the Orient.”
A new hot destination in recent years—Chongming Island, the backyard garden of Shanghai—is China’s third-largest island after Taiwan and Hainan. With cross-sea bridges and an undersea tunnel, you can now drive straight there, sparing me the psychological dread of taking a ferry.
Zhouzhuang—I had been there many years ago, but my memories were fuzzy. My computer had a tantrum and took an unplanned vacation, so no photos survived either. This time I wanted to revisit it.
A rough plan for a trip to Shanghai and its surroundings began to take shape.
My best friends who ditched me on their summer Shanghai trip gave me super practical references and a chance to be lazy—especially restaurant tips. I almost felt I could order a tableful of dishes at several longed-for places without even glancing at the menu.
On many previous self-driving trips, we would arrive at the train station or airport and have our veteran driver take the wheel for the rental car. This time, my veteran driver had to work and couldn’t join. It was my first time renting and driving by myself, so I was a bit anxious. I booked with a company on Ctrip, choosing the cheapest Volkswagen Bora. Before departure, I looked up photos of the car, checked the fuel-tank switch location, figured out where to place the phone holder for navigation, and studied the mirror adjustment buttons... I packed two different phone holders and set off feeling nervous.
I also looked up Shanghai’s driving restrictions, but couldn’t quite sort out inner ring, outer ring, and elevated roads. I deliberately chose a car with a Shanghai license plate so I could go anywhere without worry.
Picked up the car right at the high-speed rail station, drove straight to the hotel for a rest.
In the late afternoon, we took a taxi directly to our only sightseeing destination of the day—Wukang Road. Taking a taxi was a smart move. Even one or two hundred meters before our stop, traffic crawled to a halt—there was absolutely no parking. At the intersection, police officers were directing crowds from several directions, occasionally shooing tourists who had strayed onto the road for photos back onto the footpath.
The Wukang Building at the corner is the landmark of Wukang Road and a hot photo spot. We circled it from different angles at the intersection, taking pictures, then stepped into the ground-floor arcade to admire this historic building up close. Its red facade walls, triangular window pediments, and small balconies with iron railings are strongly French Renaissance in style. The building’s ground floor features arcades common in Southeast Asian architecture, forming a covered walkway with a few small shops. The overall shape resembles an enormous cruise ship awaiting departure.
Wukang Road is known as “the celebrity road condensing nearly a century of Shanghai’s history.” As we strolled along, historic buildings displaying various exotic charms lined both sides. It’s also a neighborhood rich in former residences of famous figures—the former homes of Ba Jin and Soong Ching Ling are both here. The plane trees standing in neat rows, trunks upright and straight, crowns lush and layered, leaves dancing gracefully, couldn’t help but remind me of that romantic legend: “For a love of plane trees, Nanjing was planted full of them.” Apparently Nanjing isn’t the only city blessed by these love-filled trees—Shanghai has been graced by them too!
The restaurant my girlfriends recommended, “Lao Ji Shi,” is right near the Wukang Building. After exploring Wukang Road, we came here for dinner and a rest. I figured arriving a little past five, we probably wouldn’t need a reservation. When we got there, through the small entrance, we could already see tables crammed inside. The host glanced around, considered, and sent us up to the second floor, reminding us to eat quickly. The dining space was narrow, dimly lit, with steep, cramped stairs; tables squeezed against tables, chairs against chairs, already full. Only a tiny table directly facing the top of the staircase remained—no other choice. Besides the must-order Jishi braised pork belly, we also ordered Jishi salted chicken, braised water bamboo in oil, and seasoned bean curd with wood ear mushrooms, with scallion oil noodles as the staple. The braised pork was too sweet and cloying; one or two pieces were enough. The salted chicken truly lived up to its name—far too salty. The dishes fully embodied the “thick oil and dark sauce” characteristic of authentic Shanghai cuisine. As newcomers to Shanghai, we felt we should try this true local eatery recommended by locals and listed among the city’s must-eats. Prices were a little high.
Among the many water towns in Jiangnan, Zhouzhuang, one of the top six ancient towns, holds a unique place. Zhouzhuang belongs to Kunshan, under Suzhou, southeast of Suzhou city, about seventy-odd kilometers from Shanghai, with over nine hundred years of history and among China’s first batch of 5A-level scenic spots. Renting a car and self-driving was so convenient—we drove an hour and arrived. Zhouzhuang has several parking lots and many routes into the old town; just follow the canals to wander freely.
There are multiple ways to explore an ancient water town: you can “take a sculling boat and drift into a water-town dream.” We didn’t choose the boat but simply strolled along the riverbanks and threaded through lanes and alleys. The whole of Zhouzhuang looks like a painting of small bridges, flowing water, and homes—a water-town scene of quiet elegance and rustic architecture. The old town is crisscrossed by waterways; Ming and Qing dwellings are built along the water. Surrounded on all sides by canals forming a “#” shape, this is what gives the water town its charm. Where there are rivers and streets, there must be bridges. Zhouzhuang is famous for its many bridges. The most celebrated are the Twin Bridges (Yong’an Bridge and Shide Bridge)—one set horizontally, one vertically; one arch square, one round. Made world-famous through painter Chen Yifei’s works, they’re a must-photograph spot no one misses.
Along the streets and canals, all kinds of restaurants and small shops line up. Suzhou embroidered round fans, Wansan trotters, silk garments—all with a distinctive Zhouzhuang flavor—make you pause and admire even if you don’t plan to buy anything. The storied “Wansan trotter” is hands-down the most eye-catching sight. From the moment you park and look around, to every lane within the old town, it’s on sale everywhere. Wansan trotters and elbows are the signature delicacies of Zhouzhuang—glossy, beautifully packaged, conspicuously displayed at the front of shops.
The Shen Residence and Zhang Residence, former homes of the commercial genius Shen Wansan and other historical figures, add cultural depth to Zhouzhuang. They are truly imposing—layers of courtyards, carved beams and painted rafters with exquisite craftsmanship. The furnishings and hangings inside are artistic treasures that even modern tastes admire. The masterful work of past artisans is well worth appreciating.
After a long walk, feeling tired, we happened upon the “Wansan Restaurant” that I’d seen mentioned in reviews. Built along the river, its second-floor attic allowed us to rest and enjoy the scene of small bridges and flowing water. The set meal we ordered was affordable and came with the must-try Wansan elbow, plus steamed whitebait, silver fish scrambled eggs, and clams and tofu soup—just right for three people.
The painter Luo Guanzhong once commented: “Mount Huangshan collects the beauty of China’s mountains, Zhouzhuang collects the beauty of China’s water towns.” Although personal tastes differ, Zhouzhuang’s beauty simply cannot be hidden.
In the early afternoon, we returned to Shanghai. The roads were empty and smooth. Seeing it was still early, we decided to do a quick little tour before heading back to the hotel, choosing the nearby Site of the First National Congress of the CPC and Sinan Mansions. The brand-new red-and-gray brick buildings of the memorial hall and the site itself are a patriotic education demonstration base; visitors came in twos and threes in a steady stream—a nice stop for photos. Sinan Mansions, on Sinan Road, is a cluster of restored historic buildings now hosting cafés, a hotel, a florist—a blend of fashion and history. Parking in downtown Shanghai is so, so expensive!
For dinner, we went to another restaurant recommended by my girlfriends—Rui Fu Yuan Friendship Restaurant. Having learned yesterday’s lesson, I called ahead and reserved a table. We arrived a bit after seven and still had to wait a short while. I ordered the long-planned dishes: stuffed snails with minced pork, crab roe tofu, wheat gluten, four-season baked bran, salad, and pan-fried buns with crab roe—a tableful. The sweet-and-sour ribs I’d been craving were long sold out, they said. A stuffed dinner rewarded the elders after a tiring day.
A Must-See Day in Shanghai Proper
On our Shanghai trip many years ago, the photos were lost, and few memories remain—but the xiaolongbao at the City God Temple is an impression that lingers. The City God Temple and Yuyuan Garden are must-visits in Shanghai proper. Today, we didn’t venture far; we simply stayed within the city.
The City God Temple and Yuyuan Garden are close to each other, both in one large area—the City God Temple Tourism Area and Yuyuan Mart. I’m told many people know the name Yuyuan but only wander the commercial shops without actually entering the garden. The Yuyuan Mart is huge, accessible from all sides, a whole district combining sightseeing, shopping, and dining.
The City God Temple is a Taoist temple originally built in the Ming Dynasty, with over six hundred years of history. It isn’t large, but incense burns fiercely inside, smoke curling. Free incense sticks are offered near the entrance. With three slender sticks and a light heart, we made a small offering, wishing for smooth days ahead.
Yuyuan Garden is the quiet retreat amid the bustle. Free from the marketplace hubbub, it is a Jiangnan-style garden built during the Jiajing and Wanli eras of the Ming Dynasty, four to five hundred years old. Pavilions, terraces, and towers, accompanied by rockeries and genuine stones, wind along with meandering corridors. Verdant trees and deep, green pools.
Although it was late autumn, the Jiangnan weather was still warm, the foliage lush and flourishing, full of life. Precisely because it was late autumn, the osmanthus fragrance drifted in waves, bringing heart-soothing delight.
After a long, winding walk around the Zigzag Bridge, we entered another important theme: tasting big buns and small buns. In Shanghai, some buns are for eating, others for drinking.
The soup dumplings at Green Wave Corridor are giant—twenty-five yuan each, a hefty price, but the line waxed and waned yet never ceased. A bun larger than my palm sat soft on the plate; I carried it gingerly, the thin skin quivering with soup inside, threatening to burst at any step. We luckily found a bench nearby and sat down to eat without rush. When I’d read guides before, people were described eating standing, shoulder to shoulder, or even squatting—off-season truly is better! Eating requires finesse: first use a straw to poke a small hole in the top, let the steam escape, and the soup spills a little onto the plate. The plate must be held steady, or the thin paper plate might leak and the floor gets slick—the greasy splotches everywhere were a warning. After drinking the soup, barely any filling remained; the skin wasn’t tasty. But considering the dear price, we couldn’t waste it. Around noon, we wanted lunch at Green Wave Corridor, but the line to get in snaked from the entrance with a bend—so we quickly gave up. A few shops further, we reached the queue for Nanxiang Xiaolongbao. Among the few blurry memories from nearly twenty years ago, buying xiaolongbao at just such a corner lingered. We bought two steamers’ worth, took them back, and rested at the hotel.
At dusk, we set out again, this time for Nanjing Road. Our grand dinner was booked at Gui Man Long on Nanjing Road. It was still early, and we were well-rested from the afternoon, so we decided to explore Nanjing Road first, then eat.
Nanjing Road is reputed to be the crème de la crème of domestic pedestrian streets, lined with shops on both sides. As far as the eye could see, modern architecture mingled with old European-style buildings. There were century-old department stores and brand-new shopping centers, along with restaurants, boutiques, and food shops everywhere. Old Shanghai face cream dominates the niche souvenir market. Shop signs blazed in intersecting lights.
The Hangzhou-style restaurant Gui Man Long certainly didn’t disappoint. West Lake vinegar fish in the ancient method, braised shredded dried tofu, bursting-fresh shrimp—every dish was a classic. Brown sugar glutinous rice cakes and dry-fried stinky tofu were also delightful snacks, all beautifully plated. I’d had my eye on the Beijing branch of Gui Man Long but never made it; Shanghai finally satisfied my craving.
After the meal, we walked Nanjing Road again. Lanterns were just being lit, all kinds of signboards shimmering, creating a whole different atmosphere that broadcast Shanghai’s prosperity and fashion.
A Two-Day Trip to Chongming Island
Chongming Island, the third-largest island in China after Taiwan and Hainan, has become increasingly known in recent years. It’s a backyard getaway for Shanghai residents. The undersea tunnel and cross-sea bridge have especially shortened the distance, making it a convenient self-drive destination.
Chongming is very large, and sights are scattered, mainly divided into eastern and western zones. We first headed to the westernmost part: Xisha Wetland Park and Mingzhu Lake Scenic Area. Driving across, I was struck by how huge the island was—few cars, few people, lovely environment, fresh air. Roads were newly paved, flanked by countryside and fields, no high-rises. Driving felt almost like being on an expressway, with guardrails on both sides; only the occasional traffic light reminded me it was just a road, not a highway.
Entering Xisha Wetland Park, I saw vast expanses of saturated wetland with stands of tall trees in neat lines, roots sunk in water, trunks straight, leaves dense. We followed a wooden boardwalk deeper into the park. The towering trees gradually gave way to large patches of reeds; the boardwalk twisted through them. Just when it seemed the path ended, a turn revealed another long stretch. The fresh air, enriched with the scent of plants, made us forget our fatigue. The most lively residents here were undoubtedly the small crabs—much bigger than the sand-hole dwellers on a beach. I didn’t recognize the species; I read the sign but forgot. They definitely weren’t the commonly seen mitten crabs or swimming crabs. Looking anywhere across the wetland, there were crabs scuttling recklessly. Tiny holes were their happy homes. Judging by Chef Li’s standard, these could be used for drunken crabs! When we got tired, there was a small rest pavilion mid-way on the boardwalk, with an illustrated introduction to the world’s ten greatest wetlands. At the end, one can see the Yangtze River just a stone’s throw away. Leaning on the railing, I breathed freely.
Xisha Mingzhu Lake is a separate scenic spot three kilometers from the wetland park. Here, we hopped on a sightseeing tram to circle the lake. The eight-kilometer path was picturesque; riding through it, threading lakes, woods, and wetlands, we felt like odd intruders. Any man-made installation seemed to violate its pristine natural beauty.
We got off at the tram stop nearest the main gate and immediately plunged into the pink muhly grass for photos. I’d seen this grass in a few other parks before, but a whole thriving field here was irresistible—a spot of pink in overwhelming green always brings stunning contrast to photos.
Leaving Mingzhu Lake, we looked for a place nearby to have lunch. That’s when we felt the off-season bleakness: a handful of farmhouse restaurants all closed. We headed to another sight, Dongping Forest Park. Luckily, there was a restaurant at the park entrance—not a farmhouse, but a hotel-operated one. We managed to order just before the cook clocked out at 2:30 p.m. Some other guests arrived later and were told the cook had already left. We secretly rejoiced at our good timing. We tried a cold appetizer called golden squash—sweet, sour, and refreshing.
Stepping into Dongping Forest Park reinforced my first impression of Chongming: everything is so vast! In every direction stretched endless beauty and deserted paths. We decided to stick close to the entrance and explore just a small patch.
Dense trees, fresh air, countless flowering ornamental plants, a hint of autumn colors starting to show—rich and varied. There were signs for many amusement projects, specialty flower gardens, and barbecue zones. I imagined spending several carefree days here in this natural forest oxygen bar with family and friends would be quite a treat.
Even this tiny patch left my legs heavy with fatigue.
We had traveled from west to east across Chongming; Dongping Forest Park sits roughly in the middle, and the booked holiday hotel was nearby. We hadn’t planned dinner ahead. A restaurant we found via good reviews was already fully packed on the spot. Bayi Road Pedestrian Street seemed like the center of a small town, with shops and eateries. We grabbed KFC and returned to the hotel to rest well, rewarding ourselves with a chocolate ice cream for having driven over two hours from Shanghai to Chongming—our first longer self-drive of the trip.
On the second day on Chongming, we visited the easternmost tip of the island, Dongtan Wetland Park at the Yangtze River estuary.
In the wetland mudflats, flowerbeds of brightly colored blossoms were striking. Lotus leaves still flourished green, but alas, the lotus flowers had already withered. A tram took us deeper into the park; from there, we walked the boardwalk flanked by lush, vibrant gesang flowers. Venturing further into the blossoms, any photo came out beautiful. A small wooden house with a windmill among the flowers evoked fairy-tale longing. By the pond, enclosed ducks and geese honked, adding life to the scenery. Dongtan Wetland Park lies on a bird migration corridor and is a wintering site for waterfowl. Signs for birdwatching and photography were everywhere; unfortunately, the season wasn’t right for us.
Shanghai: History and Modernity
Back to Shanghai! We crossed the tunnel and bridge, smooth all the way.
Our hotel today was on East Nanjing Road, very near the Bund. Two restaurants I’d long been eyeing were close by. The great location came at a price: parking was a hassle. The hotel was surrounded by no-entry streets—perhaps the navigation didn’t know yet. We circled several times but couldn’t find a way in from any direction. Finally, we squeezed into a parking lot down a narrow alley. Twenty-four hours: 120 yuan. So expensive! But we had no choice.
A delicate, soft fragrance welcomed us as we entered the hotel, bringing leisurely pleasure and relaxation. We dropped our bags, stepped out again, and went to solve lunch first. My girlfriends’ highly recommended Dahuchun Shengjian was near the hotel. By the time we walked over, it was past 1 p.m., but still quite a few diners sat scattered about. We ordered one portion each of the three classic fillings: pork, prawn, and crab roe. Dipped in a touch of vinegar, the golden, crispy but not hard outer shell gave way to a fresh, generous, not greasy filling. Afterwards, I told my husband: “These are the best shengjianbao I’ve ever had.” Them being affordable and absolutely down-to-earth was a bonus. In our eagerness, we dug right in; only on the way out did I notice the walls plastered with honors: China Famous Snack, China Gold Medal Snack, Intangible Cultural Heritage of Huangpu District, Shanghai Top 100 Gold Medal Snacks, listed in the Michelin Guide, and on Dianping’s list—a whole wall of awards.
A short lane later, we were at the Bund.
Without doubt, the Bund is the very symbol of Shanghai. In movies and TV series from decades ago, Shanghai was invariably introduced by the image of the Customs House clock tower. The exotic architectural cluster of the Bund tells Shanghai’s history. Looking across the river, the trio of iconic landmarks in Lujiazui showcases its modern face and fashion. While admiring the views, we strolled along the Huangpu River to Chen Yi Square. Chen Yi, Shanghai’s first mayor, stands there in a dignified statue on the Bund plaza.
The Bund had a steady stream of visitors, but compared to the peak-season scenes I’d seen before, it was much better—no sense of being crowded. Taking photos was relatively easy, with no need for group shots. The only pity was the dreary, opaque weather that made pictures look dull.
We saw the legendary Peace Hotel. This century-old historic building is a landmark on the Bund skyline and a key national protected heritage site. It appears frequently on screen, and the mysterious tales about the Peace Hotel never seem to cease.
Cutting through right next to the Peace Hotel, wow—our Jinjiang Metropolo Hotel was right there. When I booked, I’d only noted it was convenient for several planned restaurants; I hadn’t realized we’d be neighbors with the Peace Hotel!
Making use of a brief hotel break, I dashed out to buy the butterfly pastry from the Park Hotel that my girlfriends recommended. There was an agency seller nearby—no long queue, but a bit pricier. The pastry was larger than my palm, bursting with buttery fragrance, the sweet milky scent compelling me to taste immediately. Eating required care—crumbs scattered everywhere if you weren’t careful.
After a short rest at the hotel, we headed out again at dusk, impatiently venturing onto Nanjing Road, cutting across to dine at “Old Man’s Bursting-Fresh Shrimp.” Our hotel was on East Nanjing Road; stepping out, if you looked left you saw the Oriental Pearl Tower, and going right took you onto Nanjing Road.
It’s completely possible to long for a city just because of one restaurant. I love Hangzhou and have visited many times. Ever since a colleague recommended “Old Man’s Bursting-Fresh Shrimp,” it has become a must-eat feast on every Hangzhou trip. This itinerary almost included a one-day Hangzhou detour because of it. Then I discovered a branch right near my Shanghai hotel—I was overjoyed. I’d searched before; there’s no Beijing branch. If “Old Man’s Bursting-Fresh Shrimp” opened in Beijing, I’d absolutely be their VVIP.
We stepped onto Nanjing Road once more. The old Shanghai face cream stall was set up right in a little kiosk in the middle of the street, and every time we passed, we were warmly invited to try some. Over these days, this old domestic brand appeared everywhere. I liked the light jasmine and osmanthus scents best. I’m no travel newbie though—right away, I ordered some online to be delivered home.
“Old Man’s Bursting-Fresh Shrimp,” long time no see. The classic must-orders: bursting-fresh shrimp, dry-fried belt fish, plus a few small dishes like West Lake lotus root charm, tender shrimp with sweet peas, and “bread no longer tempts” (a fun bread dessert). The unchanged deliciousness was so satisfying, as if I were back by the West Lake.
At night, the Bund was incredibly lively. The Oriental Pearl Tower kept changing colors, all sorts of lights flickered on the grand buildings, voices filled the air. The Bund entrances switched to one-way, with police keeping order. To take a photo at a prime spot, you had to queue and squeeze in. There were so many people, a word came to mind: “Stampede!”
Today was our day to leave Shanghai and return to Beijing. Outside, a fine drizzle fell, and the sky was overcast. We weren’t about to waste the precious morning hours. After a quick nibble of breakfast at the hotel, we headed for the Bund once more. The moment we stepped out, the rain stopped—only pale gray and dark gray clouds drifted around. Our luck felt outrageously good. Compared to yesterday’s murky haze, today’s photos turned out much better. There were very few people on the Bund, hardly anyone, starkly contrasting with last night’s liveliness. We could take photos freely, claiming a whole stretch of space—so extravagant!
We crossed the Garden Bridge (Waibaidu Bridge) and found the exact spot where my girlfriends had taken photos on their trip, posing for our own keepsake. There’s no avoiding comparisons—their summer photos with blue skies and white clouds were truly gorgeous. The Waibaidu Bridge isn’t long, just around a hundred meters, all steel in silver-white, already a century old, a classic filming location from past movies and TV shows. Crossing the bridge, we reached the Bund Origin area and wandered back along small lanes. Historic exotically styled relics, bearing witness to the past, appeared everywhere—dignified and deep, resilient and elegant. After I got home, my husband asked what had impressed me most. I said, “The old buildings in Shanghai—I couldn’t get enough of them. They bring a calm to my heart.” For someone who loves natural mountain and water scenery, even I was surprised by that answer.
At noon, we had an early lunch. I absolutely couldn’t leave with any regrets, so we ate the crabmeat and shrimp noodles at Yu Xing Ji—sumptuous and utterly satisfying. The set meal included squirrel fish, which made up for having had to choose between West Lake vinegar fish and squirrel mandarin fish at Gui Man Long. This trip’s dining was perfect: not a single planned feast was missed!
On the four-plus-hour high-speed train back, I started refining next month’s itinerary!
October 2023
