Cycling in Shanghai

The sun was warm and the breeze soft as I set off from Xintiandi on my bike. The music through my earphones was pleasing to the ear, incentivising me to ride all the way to my office on Nanjing West Road. The road was heaving with traffic. When the red light turned green, dozens of cyclists hurtled forward. I felt as if I were one of the many eggs laid in the water by a fish. Hopefully I would be laid in a safe enough position to survive. But I was often a lone egg at traffic lights, for most other cyclists had a tendency to jump red lights.

Getting around on a bike in Shanghai had taken me to places I didn't normally get to visit in the city, from fresh markets to small eateries to bike repair street stalls. I had also developed a knack for breaking minor rules, such as cycling on pedestrian pavements, and playing the ignorant foreign cyclist when warned by traffic cops on such pavements. And I once pedalled in the rain to an art museum, pleased in the knowledge that I was doing something romantic in the name of art.

Whenever I stopped at a traffic light, I liked to take a look at the car drivers as if trying to tell them they were out of fashion in their gas-guzzling mode. Alas, the weather was rarely pleasant in Shanghai. All too often, it was the car drivers who stared at me as I was soaked in the rain, burned by the scorching sun, or drenched in pollution. I bet they were trying to make me aware of the sorry state of the carless class.