“Squalor” is a word that often came to mind as we walked from our apartment to our campus.  I looked it up to see what the dictionary said it meant.  “A filthy wretched place” was what I found.  I pondered whether this word then was accurate for what I saw.

Certainly “filthy” applies to garbage piles on the street, urine in puddles, and cigarette butts on the sidewalk. In spite of all the work the women with the brush brooms do, and in spite of all the collecting the scavengers do, the streets and sidewalks are still always dirty in my eyes.  The babies don’t wear diapers, but slit pants.  I often see the grandmothers holding the babies out from their own bodies so the babies may freely pee on the sidewalk.  The scavengers tip out the garbage from the cans, pick through it, and leave the rest in a pile beside the can.  I gather others pick it up because the volume is kept to a minimum–we see the same amount day by day.  Many men are smoking, it is the social connection in China.  Drop the butts on the sidewalk, it’s the acceptable thing.  Women don’t smoke in public unless they are prostitutes advertising availability.   No one cleans up after the little dogs that run around.  The barber sweeps his floor, and dumps the hair on the sidewalk.  I don’t know the words for the smell.  So, no wonder “squalor” came often to my mind.

“Wretched” however,  does not apply.  It means, “unfortunate, pitiable, miserable.”  To qualify for “squalor” then, the place must be beyond dirty, and the people must be sad and discouraged. I see the two streets I walk to get to school as vibrant and prosperous.  There are at least three hair salons, large shops with maybe ten chairs, all full, playing modern upbeat music, and happily selling glitz and glamor.   There are several smaller shops, not quite so “ritzy” but they all charge the same price for a simple cut.  The price?  Fifteen “quai” or a little less than three US dollars.  There are many restaurants, some upstairs, some down, but all doing brisk business, especially in the mealtime hours.  A few of them sell hamburgers and french fries, the rest, the normal Chinese food, noodles in several styles, dumplings, pork and chicken in many guises.  Fruit vendors are plentiful, and people selling a  food–I don’t know what it is–it looks like little red balls on a stick.  Many students walk here to buy breakfast, lunch, and dinner, instead of using the campus dining hall.  Until a few weeks ago, there were many food vendors in the cross street besides the established restaurants.  Food scraps are simply dropped on the sidewalk or street.  There are some dogs running around, and a few cats, eating the scraps.

Clothing stores offer a range of prices and quality of goods.  Some are what I would call “high end” and I wonder how the students can afford these.  Then there are general stores selling snacks, fruit, laundry supplies, stationery, and things that students need and want for dorm life.  And it seems to me that every few doors, there is a hotel.  These also apparently have enough business to stay open.  We gather they cater to people attending conferences, business men conducting meetings, and students getting together. None of these businesses is very large, nor are the buildings separate.  It is as if there is one large building on the entire block.  Each business is about as wide as an extra wide garage door and the walls that support it.  In fact, that is the kind of door that opens or closes the business. Upstairs there are more businesses, and apartments that house the people who own the businesses.  On the lower level, there are more shops, what we might call “boutiques.”

Little children stay with their parents who own and operate these businesses, so they run around on the sidewalk in front of the shops, or sit in their mother’s or grandparents’ laps.  The “sidewalk” is not a narrow strip of concrete, as we know it, but rather is a wide brick paved walkway between the shops and the street.  Motorcycles, bicycles, and cars are parked on this sidewalk, along the street edge, under the trees that have been planted at regular intervals. Some of these vehicles, in each category, are quite expensive and well kept.  At night, all the buildings are decorated with neon lights and the ordinary lights inside.  Music blares from modern high-tech equipment, and horns are honking as people vie for position on the street.  The street is alive with fashionably dressed students, business people, grandparents and babies, the sweepers and scavengers, the “officials”,  children running around, and the dogs and cats, and birds in the trees.

So, I have put the word “squalor” on the shelf beside “misery.”  These words do not apply to the streets I walk daily.