On my quest to visit some of China’s Ghost Cities, I found three near Shanghai, perfect for my trip. I expected to find empty cobblestone streets and block after block of empty and under construction Tudor-style homes. What I found instead was Shanghai’s Instagram capital and much more than I anticipated.
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Remembering My Visit
During this period of lockdown and quarantine, my mind wanders to past trips. One of my favorite finds in China was one of the many “ghost cities” though as you’ll find, it’s not really an accurate nomenclature. I look forward to returning to see more of them soon but for now, this will have to do.
Build It And They Will Come
The lure of the so-called Ghost Cities of China captivated me for years. Stories on the BBC, Al-Jazeera, and Bloomberg showcased massive cities with no inhabitants. In a particularly persuasive piece, a reporter for Bloomberg found himself all alone in the middle of a city the size of Manhattan.
However, the West’s understanding as to why China builds Ghost Cities in the first place is generally incorrect. The book, China’s Ghost Cities, helps redirect the western thought process of efficiency. In western nations, we build more communities when we need more communities, where we need them. In China, however, because of the economic control the government has, they take more of a Field of Dreams approach, build it and they will come. And in order to make sure they do, the country will move universities and government offices there, lure businesses to build factories and faster than you would ever believe could be true, they have fulfilled their mission. Bloomberg has since updated that the aforementioned Ghost City is no longer vacant.
China’s Ghost Cities are built near major metropolitan areas but Shanghai’s are unique. Originally, downtown Shanghai (Pudong) was a Ghost City CBD (Central Business District) that is now one of the busiest areas of the city and home to some of the highest rents. For further expansion outside of the city core, Shanghai focused on a replica community approach. Several such cities were built, one themed as an English city (Thames Town, after the river in London), another was German-themed Anting Town with a focus on auto and a nearby Volkswagon plant, for example. I settled on the easiest one to reach with a nearby metro station.
Thames Town
Stepping out of the cab from the closest train station (Songjiang Xincheng) and paying the fare of 17 CNY ($2.85) I nearly scared my driver to death. As I opened the door, another car driving on the nearby sidewalk slid between my door and the curb. I was dangerously close to scratching or denting a brand new Porsche Cayenne. The driver’s look made it clear who was at fault – me. How could I blindly open the door towards the sidewalk, shouldn’t I have expected her to drive there?
As I walked through the village, star struck by the intricate detail put into the town I was also disappointed. I was in search of ghost towns and this was no such place. Every street was lined with cars, predictably expensive imports. One particularly well-heeled block didn’t hold a single vehicle that would retail for less than $50,000.
As I walked the streets, Chinese families and couples were snapping photos, walking dogs, and chatting. In front of a statue of Churchill, I stood with my camera mounted on a tripod for better than ten minutes before I could get a clean shot. Ghost Town, my ass.
While I was disappointed not to find the barren streets I’d been promised I was also delighted to find Chinese people experiencing a taste of Europe in their own backyard. Behind the Churchill statue in a cafe by the same name I found true European culture than I have missed for years since our last visit. A man at an outside table flips pages of a newspaper while he sips coffee, and ashes his cigarette. Occasionally he glances up and watches passersby. Mostly, he’s exactly where he wants to be enjoying a Saturday afternoon as anyone would on the boulevards of Europe.
Meandering down streets that wind incongruously, I could pretend I was back in Manchester. Tudor-style buildings have ground floor beer bars and apartments upstairs. If it weren’t for the Chinese characters and flashing neon additions it would be hard to definitively judge by only looking at a photograph where in the world I was.
About every third shop was related to photography and more specifically wedding photography. Tux rental shops, tailors, even wedding dresses for hire all available to make your English wedding photo dreams come true. It wasn’t just wedding photography, kids photos, families, cars, even those that would put your photos on microfilm – for whatever purpose that would serve – all paint the picture of what is becoming plainly obvious. This isn’t a city, it’s a set.
China, like the rest of Asia, is already a “selfie” culture. Posing against brick walls or tossing a two-fingered peace sign has and will be part of Chinese youth. Parents get a little more sophisticated, or so they think. They attach selfie sticks and hold them up with inane objects of no meaning. Their photos must scream “Here I am with a bush” or “There I go, walking again”.
Thames Town, originally built to house the expansion of Shanghai and create a suburban culture, has instead become the backdrop for Shanghai’s wealthy and photogenically-inclined. Whether visitors are sharing benches with English playwrights or high-fiving prime ministers, they have come here for one purpose and one purpose only.
At one point, there were three separate brides and their grooms all having the same photo taken as other Chinese walked around and behind them, undoubtedly included in the background of every shot. One bride reduced to tears as a result. In fairness to the others, the bride was standing at the front entrance for close to 20 minutes on a Saturday afternoon and was frustrated that others wouldn’t let her have her moment. Perhaps her photographer could have snapped faster. She had a point (couldn’t they wait just a few minutes) but then she didn’t (what should she expect in a busy day at a touristy location like this?) Personally, I took her visible anguish as an indication it was time for me to find another way into the church.
I was asked to remove my shoes on the way in, something that happens at many churches and temples throughout Europe and Asia, though, confused when I found mine were the only ones. I had just seen another visitor walk in, so it struck me as odd. Turning the corner to enter the sanctuary revealed no less than 30 Chinese visitors, mostly young couples, sitting in pews and reading what I can only assume was the story of Christianity. It was instantly clear that this was more of a living museum than a place of worship, but I was still surprised that there was anything on the inside at all. Having seen plenty of churches in England and elsewhere, I quickly exited, retrieved the only pair of shoes waiting (mine) and slipped out the door.
I made my way to what I have read is the crescendo of this village opus, a traditional English church. There’s very little religion in China and I had understood the building to be used solely as decoration. When I approached the steeple I noticed the doors were open.
On the side of the building was yet another couple, this one the smartest yet, taking wedding photos against a disused entrance to the church (likely a façade). In the garden outside, full-on photo shoots with Instagram-husbands were in effect. The “models” pranced through a vine-covered lattice as if it were a runway, striking different poses and then running over to see the result. A quick fix of their hair or shirt and they’d return to their stage. Their significant others were putting on a brave face but from the looks of it, this was probably their afternoon. It was at that moment, I didn’t mind being on a solo trip.
I found myself on a seesaw of emotion. On one hand, I felt utter contempt for the country to build a literal backdrop for Chinese social network photos. On the other hand, there were groups of girls at an outdoor cafe with their dogs having tea and coffee, the gentleman I mentioned at Churchill’s reading the paper, an old man admiring dragonflies on a park bench. It seemed that despite the facade and scenery a real transposition of cultures was taking place and I admired it and its participants.
While I regret having missed the true Ghost town I had sought – I must have been years too late – I did enjoy my time in Thames Town. Only one question remained: if Facebook owns Instagram, and Facebook is blocked in China by the Great Firewall, then where are these photos going? #ThamesTown #NotGhostTown #WeddingPhotoFolly
Have you been to a Chinese Ghost City? What did you think? Is the building of mirror cities the ultimate form of flattery, or an example of unoriginality?
Small museum??? Seriously? That’s a church dude.
It wasn’t very long ago ( maybe 30 years, a bit more) that one could stand on The Bund and gaze across at the open fields of Pudong.
It’s more than a bit ironic that, having torn down large parts of the original European concession zones, there is now an interest if not a nostalgia for such things.
The real ‘ghost’ towns are not like these, but rather never-ending rows of soulless high rises, mostly apartments in the style of Singapore public housing.
20+ years ago one stood on the Bund and saw nothing but shaky hi-rises clad in flimsy bamboo scaffolding shooting up out of the Pu Dong mud, the view dominated by that hideously-ugly Pearl TV Tower.
I haven’t been back since 1999 but I can’t imagine it’s any less crowded and filthy.
We long for buildings and cities built to the human scale, as can be seen here. No one would go to a CBD, surrounded by skyscapers to have their wedding photos taken. Cities built for walking and with aesthetically pleasing buildings are what we’re attracted to, even subconsciously.