Zhangjiagang through an expatriate's eyes
( China Daily )
Updated: 2012-06-07
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It was the sort of assignment no self-respecting journalist would turn down: Go to the city regarded as the cleanest in China, where the locals are regarded as the most polite and which is considered to be a model for the future of the nation's metropolises and compare it with life in Beijing.
Well I was blessed with the time of year - spring - when the flowers and blossoms were out and the climate was mild. So, first impressions - and as the saying goes, you only ever get one chance to make a first impression - were good.
It was remarkably litter-free. No plastic bags wafted through the air on thermal currents. No cigarette butts despoiled the sidewalk or gutter. Very rarely did a car horn announce its owner's anger or frustration.
Only during rush hour was there heavy traffic congestion.
When I walked into a bar, everyone, local and expat, was friendly and welcoming. The hotel staff could not have been more helpful.
People gave you the time of day, their expressions putting that land of smiles, Thailand, to shame.
Many foreigners in this extraordinary country occasionally have what are called "China days", when the challenges of living in a sometimes alien culture get on top of them.
Beijing is a more than just a bustling city. Not even "heaving" gets near to capturing the sheer density of activity, the vastness of the population, the lack of privacy beyond your own front door, the never-ending loud dynamism.
In consequence, there is a "me-first" attitude.
Lining up to pay for an item in a shop is a concept some consider a waste of time.
Expelling mucus from the throat is not something done discreetly.
It is almost rejoiced in as residents double up to extract maximum leverage as they vacuum up phlegm from the darkest, deepest corners of their lungs and send it splattering like a squashed oyster on to the pavement - accompanied by a guttural roar that would make a banshee with bronchial pneumonia blush.
I witnessed none of that in Zhangjiagang. By contrast, the city, which has a population of just 1.3 million yet has a huge per capita GDP - among China's highest - is genuinely genteel - and proud of it.
As a tribute to its reputation, tourists flock there in the thousands to witness firsthand a very different China - a more orderly society, a place that is safe, attractive and all the more successful because of it.
So what are the downsides? Captains of industry all have one complaint.
They cannot attract enough talented people to work there.
Young graduates, they all say, did not want to work in a small place. They preferred heading to the bright lights, big city of Beijing or Shanghai, their competitive spirits determined to stamp their mark where it is more likely to be noticed, their ears throbbing to the underlying theme of Frank Sinatra's anthem New York.
If they can make it in China's toughest, cruelest but most famous city, they can make it anywhere.
They want to be a part of it, their vagabond shoes wanting to stray right through the very heart of it.
They want to wake up in that city that never sleeps and find they are king of the hill, top of the list, head of the heap.
So much for youthful ambition. When the grim realities of high-cost housing, cramped living conditions, cacophonous commutes, subways that make sardine tins look not so much cozy as spacious, the omnipresent hum of traffic and throat-searing pollution gradually wear them down and their blood cools, they may reconsider - if they are not too trapped in the rat race.
Until then, Zhangjiagang's bosses will continue to think up ways of luring the next generation of leaders.
They have tried offering high starting wages and career advancement plans. They have tried to beguile with free housing and cars. They have sponsored university courses.
They have even sat potential recruits down and pleaded with them to find out what they can do to make them commit - so far with little success.
From my perhaps jaded perspective, these youngsters are mad.
I would jump at the opportunity if I were in their shoes.
But, then again, I, too, was beholden to the big dream in the big city, enticed by the intangible and oblivious to the reality.