We’ve known since arriving in Shanghai that there are two types of waiguoren out there: the ones with the chauffeur-driven cars, portly bellies and a company villa in a hermetically-sealed Jinqiao gated community; and the rest of us. Not that Shanghaiist is bitter or anything, in fact, we quite like the directionless romantic bent of our life at present. Which is why we’re suspicious of labels, such as this one, dug up by John at...
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