How Shanghai surprises (even without a Xiao Zhan)

Text and photos by Thelma Sioson San Juan

Nothing, no one (not even my favorite Xiao Zhan), prepares you for the surprise that is Shanghai today, not even if you have just binge-watched Song Weilong in the C-drama Shine on Me (like we did), or not even if you had been flying there before the pandemic to watch the Federal-Nadal-Djokovic era of Shanghai Masters (like we would). Shanghai changes as if in a blink of an eye. The Bund is not the Bund of four or five years ago—its evening sky is now an even more dazzling mural of brilliant red and white lights, it’s a waste not to walk in the autumn night. Around it are more quaint retail shops and food hubs, instead of cookie-cutter commerce chains. You feel like you’re in the epicenter of contemporary chic.

Ours was a trip of friends late November last year, initiated by a good friend who has lived and worked in Shanghai from the ’90s to the new millennium, a time span that indubitably captures the multi-evolution of China’s biggest city and financial center. We had no strict itinerary; we just wanted each day to be a spontaneous, unpretentious experience (and leg-friendly).

A highlight was the drive to nearby Hangzhou to experience West Lake and its famous night show staged right on the vast expanse of water, perhaps the only one of its kind in the world. (You wonder about how they must have built contiguous platforms right underneath the water surface.)

My only bucket-list wish was to be able to see Xiao Zhan in the flesh (the design artist-turned-China’s top singer/actor in The Untamed, Legends of the Condor Heroes: The Gallants, Legend of Zhang Hai)—an unearthly thought that my friends didn’t even dignify with a reaction; they didn’t want to spend for my lunacy test.

My biggest surprise was that the air was clean, and the ground even more so (don’t remember seeing cigarette litter). I remember how decades ago, in Guangzhou and in Shenzhen, each morning, I thought it would rain, seeing that the sky was grey, only to be told by “mother” Ricky Reyes (the hair salon industry icon who’d let me tag along on buying trips to hair/beauty suppliers) that no, it was pollution. Apparently, they must have cleaned up their act in these mega cities, their thrust being towards renewable energy. The sun is back, literally.

The rivers and lakes are made alive. In Shanghai and Hangzhou, the riverside promenades are not only pedestrian-friendly but are also turned into the centerpoints of lifestyle, from the scenic walk to fitness activities and curated shopping. Inland are small bridges over clean canals running alongside the stretch of heritage shops and cafés. They give the local folk the reason to frequent these destinations. (Domestic tourism is a clear given in a population of 1.4 billion.)

The rivers and lakes are made alive. In Shanghai and Hangzhou, the riverside promenades are turned into centerpoints of lifestyle, from the scenic walk to fitness activities and curated shopping

Why could these mega cities do it, and we can’t? Turn heritage structures, even old buildings into repurposed, sustainable hives of contemporary lifestyle. The old is preserved—yet monetized—by the new. There are cafés, restos, curio shops, retail stores, galleries, museums, vinyl record shops, tea houses—name it. Neighborhood street markets are kept and promoted. There are vast malls, yet the target-market curation is apparent.

There was an attempt to do this with Paco Market—a heritage conservation effort that was hijacked by “trapos.”

Speaking of retail, Shanghai and Hangzhou showcase the growing strength of local fashion brands, which apparently are drawing the young market. The design—no longer costumey or stereotypical oriental—has a contemporary, sleek, even minimalist modern aesthetic: deconstructed or unstructured, techno-chic, even non-gender-specific, and most of all, good, if cutting-edge, fabric. Obviously, China is able to parlay its mass manufacturing and raw materials into high-end retail. Brands are no longer just copycats. Brands such as Benlai, JNBY are simply cool, and more important, accessible to target markets. 

Shanghai’s youth demographic seems to be synonymous with style and fashion. You catch their style attitude all over the place—and see it in their pups and cats, their furry friends just as well outfitted. (I felt the same curious discovery in the Chanel Tokyo of the ’80s, when the young wore black and pearls all over the place, and when Roppongi and Harajuku were taking shape.) 

Design is good content—viable, lucrative, vibrant, whether it’s for social media or for the business bottom line. Shanghai and Hangzhou embody that. These mega cities have become good destinations for design—and architecture. It is notable how it can distill—visually—the elements of China’s ancient architecture into spare, minimalist structures. Watching the currently top-rater C-drama, Love Between Lines, about architecture, I see how Shanghai’s “shikumen” (“stone gate,” referring to multi-story brick houses arranged in lanes), or lane houses, is used as inspiration by the male lead (Chen Xingxu, who just turned viral) to design a modern development. But that’s an aside. 

Shanghai and Hangzhou teem with modern conceptual art and multi-media. There are so many exhibitions to choose from, including the Martin Margiela Retrospective and Mi Shang Prada Rong Zhai, the historic 1918 mansion which Prada turned into its first dining establishment in the world, and into a culture salon, a collaboration with legendary film maker Wong Kar Wai (In the Mood for Love). We visited its exhibit, A Kind of Language: Storyboards and Other Renderings for Cinema, which displays the Prada collection of original storyboards of film classics, such as Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. (The exhibit runs until Feb. 1, 2026.)

Food? Filipinos are born with a palate for Chinese food, whether it’s in Binondo, BGC—or Shanghai. We were privileged to start our day with a home-cooked Chinese breakfast (dumplings, congee, vegetables, sausages), then go back for lunch or dinner (e.g. steamed fish with light soya and sesame oil sauce, fermented rice soup of black sesame balls) prepared by our host’s chef; or explore the malls or restaurants for such dishes as Beggar’s Chicken, or the street markets for delicacies. 

We visited the Oishi compound and were welcomed by its head, Larry Chan, the chairman of Liwayway (China) Company Ltd. The Filipino-heritage brand set foot in Shanghai 32 years ago and is now one of the top snacks brands in China, offering no less than 150 varieties, (I can’t resist mentioning that its brand ambassador years ago was Wang Yibo, no less, the actor/adventure sportsman/champion streetdancer. He was China’s torch bearer in the Paris Olympics and is a celebrity car racer.) We capped that visit with a pleasant evening stroll and dinner in the gentrified Xintiandi Panlong, a quaint and cozy development of small restaurants, cafes, retail shops. Autumn night at Xintiandi was simply lovely.

But enough of words. Let these photos and videos tell the story.   

At Fotografiska in Jing’an district, Shanghai, artisan/crafts boutique, film/visual arts exhibit, cafe bar and bistro

Louis Vuitton’s ‘The Louis’ is a vessel-shaped flagship store of LV in Shanghai. Located at HKRI Taikoo Hui, is now a destination. Across from it is what must be the biggest Starbucks in the world, in a two-story building.

The famous Prada Rong Zhai in Shanghai, a 1918 western-style garden villa owned by Chinese tycoon in the ‘20s and restored by Prada for 6 years until its opening in 2017. A collaboration with eminent HK director Wong Kar Wai, it evokes the feel and spirit of his classic movie ‘In The Mood for Love’ and now serves as a fine cuisine restaurant and culture hub of exhibits and events. Our visit was timed with the exhibit of the Prada collection of storyboard film classics of the past century, titled ‘A Kind of Language: Storyboards and Other Renderings for Cinema.’

We arrived in Shanghai to a home-cooked Chinese spread.