A midnight stroll through the Jing’an Temple area of Shanghai
As I left my apartment around 12:30am as Wednesday was ushered in here in China, I braced myself for the cold, windy weather which lie ahead. I was en-route to the nearest convenience store near my apartment in Shanghai to buy a re-charge card for my mobile phone, which has been running through its 100 rmb credit faster than usual thanks to various important incoming calls from the states these past few nights.
New York City (where i’m from), has a cliche saying, “the city that never sleeps.” Perhaps this is true, in the sense that there are people who love to enjoy themselves into the wee hours of the morning, and therefore there are people who are required to provide services for those that have the luxury of enjoying themselves into the wee hours of the morning.
To be honest, Shanghai isn’t really the “New York City of the East,” which it undoubtedly aspires to be, but it is no less a city that never sleeps. However, the restaurants and convenience shops are not filled entirely with party-goers seeking a late night snack, but instead with down to earth people from both Shanghai and afar (Chinese migrants, not laowai a.k.a. foreigners), who have worked their friggin a$$ for 12+ hours and are enjoying a decent meal, a few Tsingtao beers or baijiu (Chinese white liquor which packs a serious punch).
As I walked into the convenience store to buy myself a re-charge card for my mobile, and yes, I admit a bag of Lays potato chips (I am very gringo when it comes down to certain things), I gave a “migrant” looking guy a nice ninhao), which is the respectful way of saying hello in Chinese… and something a migrant worker would never expect to hear from a laowai (foreigner). The store clerks who know me quite well at this point because I’m a frequent customer said their hellos and asked me if I was cold from the weather and strong winds. I naturally replied that I was and that I was hoping spring would soon come, impressing myself that I was capable of saying such in Mandarin.
As I approached the counter to pay for my chips and re-charge card, this migrant worker (which I confirmed at this point by hearing his utter total inability to speak legitimate Mandarin), whips out a wad of money I estimated at around 3000-4000 rmb. This is the amount of money a Shanghainese taxi driver earns in a month. The mere fact he has such money in a giant wad inside his pocket tells me two things. First, China is a lot like Latin America in the sense the masses are excluded from the main stream banking sector. If they were not, would this kind migrant worker not save his money in a bank? Second, China’s saving rate is not anywhere near what the West thinks it is.
I don’t believe that this guy was dis-encouraged from saving his money in a bank because of the exact same reasons poor people are in Latin America. In Latin America many are not allowed to open bank accounts because they lack legal titles on their property or have insufficient funds to be worthy of a bank account… but rather, here in China I believe it is because the costs of doing so probably so outweigh the benefits of having your money safely deposited in a bank account that its simply not worth it.
Something to think about…






