Part of the beauty about my gap year in Shanghai is that things that used to have little significance to me have started to unfold their hidden depths, revealing unexpected beauty and meaning.
My life spent at home so far has enabled me to contemplate my surroundings through distinct lenses. It feels like time and space are infinitely expanded as I now have the opportunity to thoroughly appreciate every inch of the land where I grew up. I recently took a refreshing bicycle ride down the Suzhou River, the vein of Shanghai and the river that witnessed every single milestone of my childhood and adolescence. Despite the river’s significance to my life, the more I pedaled along the newly renovated river banks, the more unfamiliar it felt. This bicycle ride challenged my long-term belief that the Bund is the best and only place to appreciate the grandeur of Shanghai’s skyscrapers. The surprising encounters of the Oriental Pearl TV Tower at different crossroads added much more color to my sightseeing experience. For the first time in a long time, I had the patience and energy to recognize the adventurous potential of the seemingly ordinary occurrences in my life.
For me, time had always been perceived in terms of academic success or if I was thriving in the social sphere. On top of that, the COVID-19 pandemic took an entire year of on-campus college experience from me. I spent my first year at Oxy in Shanghai, logging into Zoom class in the darkness of my bedroom night after night, while my mental and physical health slowly deteriorated. The amount of disappointment I endured during my first year of college pushed me to embrace every single opportunity and possibility when I finally arrived on campus my sophomore and junior years.
Taking a year off means I can take a break from being hustled. As I meandered though the city of Shanghai, coffee-hopping and city-walking, my revived curiosities drew me to memory lanes that had long been overlooked. This is the year for me to discover and archive the fascinating history of my family. Last year, when my great-grandmother died at 111, I was horrified by the cruelty of time. My great-grandmother always felt to me like an immortal figure, but her departure reminded me of the importance of embracing the present moment and people before me.
Recently, I walked around the old French Concession in Shanghai, now filled with chic bistros and bakeries. I couldn’t resist pondering if those lush and long-lived Phoenix Trees planted along the curb of the street still remember Shanghai’s colonial trauma and my great-grandfather’s legacies.
I took a trip to my grandpa’s house the next day, hoping that he could help me piece together more of his father’s stories. When the guard sitting at the ground floor of the apartment complex asked me what the purpose of my visit was, I realized that it had been a while since I last paid my grandpa a visit. Unlike when I was a kid, when I would rush to open the shoebox placed underneath his TV to check if he’d refilled it with new snacks, I found myself at a loss of words when he welcomed me in this time. It took me a while to gather my thoughts and bring up the topic of my great-grandfather.
My grandpa has a loud voice, especially when he gossips on the phone with his friends. However, talking about his father brings out a different tone. He tried to put an end to our conversation by bringing up a not-so-pleasant trait of his old man.
“My dad was an expert at spending all his money the minute he earned it,” my grandpa said, “That’s why he’s left us with nothing.”
Luckily, words streamed out when I brought up the coffee shop where my great-grandfather used to work. It all started in the early 1940s, when the Westerners started stripping away parts of Shanghai and claiming them as their own territory. My great-grandfather saw an opportunity when Didi’s Enterprise, one of Shanghai’s first cafes, welcomed its grand opening on Huaihai Road.
To this day, my 90-year old grandpa still reflects many of his father’s traits. Like his old man, my grandpa had the privilege to study at a Christian school, where he picked up fragments of the English language and a strong affection for coffee and dessert. However, many details about my great-grandfather still remain unexplained. How did he find himself in the French Concession in the first place? To whom does he owe the pleasure of making a fortune to support his family?
There will be more to come in the next article of my column. Stay tuned!
Contact Renee Ye at rye@oxy.edu
