CANTON A QUIETER BUT MORE DISCIPLINED CITY

Press, Volume XCIII, Issue 27985, 4 June 1956, Page 10

CANTON A QUIETER BUT MORE DISCIPLINED CITY

RETURN TO CHINA—II

[Specially written for “The Press" by

JAMES BERTRAM]

The first Chinese city we visited was Canton. In other years. Canton had always seemed to me the Naples of China—and Naples is nobody’s favourite Italian city. The proper way to enter China is from the norm, where the Ching tombs near Mukden may make their first austere impression of ancient empire, and where Peking is the logical goal of the traveller, a Tartar imperial city that still hangs out irom its splendid gales and wails the shadow of Manchu banners. Canton, that noisy, sprawling inland port of narrow twisting streets and canals, beside the great Pearl river with its thousands of moving or stationary boats, had always been a trial to the traveller. It was too hot, too strident, too dusty, too crowded. ; All the commercial pressure of China’s ' most relentless traders and entre- | preneurs seemed to be concentrated i here, to the inevitable discomiort oi I the European, who emerged dazed 1 from the battle with thronging traffic I and restless, pushing humanity. Only on the river there was always a sort of peace, most felt in early morning, when the boats with ricegruel and breakfast food made their rounds, and the cries of street pedlars came muted from the sampanpacked banks. Only on the river, or in the guarded sanctuary of Shameen. where foreign consulates clustered under shady trees, could the European relax, and dismiss that unhappy hundred years or so of history in which, however involuntarily, he must still feel implicated—all that sorry story from the Opium War to the Canton commune and the last tardy gunboat. Welcome With Flowers “But Canton has changed,” someone had said. And it had. The beginnings. for us, were in a manner new to most of us. Our train drew in within a minute of its time —and perhaps it was my watch rather than the engine-driver that had lost that extra minute. We emerged from our campoven compartments on to a platform lined with welcoming figures—the President of. the Canton Federation of Cultural and Artistic Societies, an organisation whose main purpose and function we never quite discovered, thought no doubt its members spent a fair amount of their time greeting wide-eyed travellers like ourselves. “Mr Ting.” “Professor Hsiang.” “Professor Chen, of Chungshan University.” The names could not mean very much to us, of course, but the faces were smiling; and lined up behind them was a row of young girls like leashect-in puppies—pioneers with swinging plaits—all firmly clasping enormous bouquets of gladiolus and dahlia. Fortunately the stems were firmly wrapped in silver paper. For at a moment that may have been prompted by some obscure impulse, or by a discreet signal which nobody saw, the pioneers descended on us like a whirlwind. Female members of I our group were embraced, males were strangely hung with their immense bouquets. And, thus armed, feeling like something between Gandhi and Frank Sinatra, we were escorted to waiting cars.

The cars were Polish—a sort of utility model, stiff in the doors but quiet and pretty efficient. We drove to what I had known, soon after its construction in 1936, as the “New Asia”—the luxury hotel of South China, a 12storey building right on the bank of the river; it is now the “Ai Chin.” Even on that short drive, it was clear that something had happened to Canton. It was no less crowded: but shops were clean, pedestrians were orderly, traffic wa? well directed (admittedly, motor traffic was almost entirely buses, apart from official cars such as those in which we were travelling), and the noise was incredibly less than what I remembered. Not that people were subdued. It would take more than wars and revolutions to suppress the nervous, volatile temperament of the Cantonese. But thev were very much less strident and chaotic as they went about their business. And everywhere streets were being widened. traffic roundabouts —never without flower beds in the centre —created at the busiest corners. Trees—thousands of trees, the young saplings carefully wrapped in straw rope, and as carefully watered every few hours or so—were being planted along the roads and side-walks. Our first im-

pression was more than confirmed by the drive around the citv we made next morning. A City on Guard We drank tea with our hosts in the Ai Chin dining-room, and were shown to bedrooms on the uoner floors, with magnificent views down-river, beyond the new bridge. In our rooms our bouquets were waiting for us in vases; on the desk was writing paper, pen and ink. and a packet of cigarettes. Hot tea in a thermos, soao. and towels. Of course, it was special treatment; but it was thoughtful and graceful treatment, never ostentatious, and quiet remarkably efficient. It was not the fault of the Peoole’s Government that a Chinese bath was rather inadequate for me (still more for Angus Ross, who had to take his in two instalments); or that the taps turned the wrong way. The point was that everything worked, and the room service was most devoted. Iced beer or mineral water appeared like magic on request, and through the open windows a strong breeze came gratefully off the river, where the busy tugs whooped joyfully at nothing at all every 10 seconds. I was half into my bath when I heard the unmistakable whine of jets. Craning out of the window. I thought I saw a dark streak behind clouds. I had never yet seen a Mig fighter, and did not see one then; but it was somewhere around, and before long it was back. Even from that distance, I could see the sun flash on the equipment of the armed guards at the end of the bridge. . . . This was Canton. Not a Canton revitalised; there had been little need for that, in this ancient home of the Chinese revolution. But a Canton trained, disciplined, and obviously on the alert. “You know why we do not put new factories here?” Ching had asked, and not paused for our answer. “Because here. Chiang Kai-shek can still reach us with his planes. But we are ready for him if he tries.” (To be Continued.)