By
Amy Qin
 |
|
The
southern Chinese city of Sanya, where a growing number of snowbirds from
China’s
north spend their winters.
Credit Bryan Denton for The New York Times
|
On
a recent, balmy morning, palm trees swayed along the beachfront promenade as
gray-haired dancers twirled and sashayed about. Retired men in head-to-toe
Hawaiian print and women in floppy hats and flowery skirts sat on wheelchairs
and folding stools, exchanging gossip over card games. Nearby, singers took
turns belting out Mao-era favorites on an outdoor karaoke machine.
Nearly
every corner of the promenade was occupied by older snowbirds looking to escape
the dreary, bone-chilling winter of the north. And here, in this seaside city
on Hainan island, the southernmost edge of China
Welcome
to China Florida
“Oh,
we absolutely love it here,” said Xu Yan, 70, sporting a dyed perm and big
sunglasses as she sat beneath a palm tree near a gaggle of ballroom dancers.
Splayed
out on a pink towel next to Ms. Xu was her companion, a toothless white Chihuahua Harbin
Like
Ms. Xu and Maomao, more than half of the nearly 400,000 retired snowbirds who
flock to Sanya every year are said to hail from China’s northeast.
“Retired
life is better than we could have ever imagined,” said Sheng Shengmin, 67, a
retired building contractor from Beijing
Last
year, Mr. Sheng joined the wave of snowbirds who have laid down roots here, buying
an apartment in the city for the equivalent of $272,000. After years of living
in Beijing
“Once
you retire and you’ve saved up enough money, you don’t want to go back to
living in the big cities,” Mr. Sheng said as he took a sip from his tea thermos,
a common accessory for many older Chinese.
That
so many Chinese retirees would leave behind their homes to live in an
unfamiliar city is all the more remarkable given China China
But
there are growing concerns that responsibility may be too much for the
generation of only children produced by the “one-child” policy to handle on
their own. As a result, more empty nesters in China
“Right
now, it’s fine because we’re healthy,” said Zhao Kaile, 62, a retired railway
bureau administrator and a native of Mudanjiang China
As
the head of the migrants association in a suburban community all but taken over
by snowbirds, Mr. Zhao spends much of his time coordinating meetings and music
rehearsals.
On
a recent morning, more than 60 retirees gathered together in the community
recreation room to rehearse sentimental favorites like “Onwards, Chinese
Communist Party” and more recent hits like “Together Build the Chinese Dream.”
Accompanying the chorus was a boisterous band of graying musicians, including a
piccoloist and an electric guitarist.
“Before,
we thought retired life would be very dull, just sitting on little stools in
the sun and shriveling up and growing old,” said Mr. Zhao. “But our lives have
transformed. We had no idea that after coming here we would be so happy and
have so many friends.”
Not
everyone is happy with the presence of Sanya’s snowbirds. The annual influx, which
began in the early 2000s, has created tensions with local residents, who are
increasingly outnumbered by their seasonal visitors. Locals complain that the
retirees have driven up the cost of housing and food while simultaneously
taking advantage of public services like transportation and hospitals.
They
find peace only in the off-season summer months, when the snowbirds retreat to
their homes up north to escape the sweltering temperatures and monsoon rains.
Several
years ago, the local government began razing large tracts of housing in the
city, in what many see as an ongoing effort to drive out the often frugal
snowbirds by denying them places to rent. Others say the goal is instead to
attract high-spending vacationers to boost local tourism, already one of the
city’s main industries in addition to agriculture.
“Sanya
wants to be known as an international tourism destination, not as an elderly
retirement community,” said Huang Cheng, a lecturer at the University of Sanya
Several
months ago, Wen Zhiguo, manager of a local hotel that caters to aging snowbirds,
was forced to move to the outskirts of the city after the local government tore
down his seaside facilities. Despite the change in location, Mr. Wen continues
to run a brisk business renting out rooms to retirees who pay about $350 a
month in exchange for simple accommodation and three meals a day.
On
a recent afternoon, the lobby of Mr. Wen’s hotel began to stir as guests rose
from their lunchtime naps. The choice of activities was plentiful — calligraphy,
mah-jongg, cards and table tennis — and the faint scent of medicinal ointment
infused the sunlit room.
A
stately looking man with a snow-white coif sat quietly at a table playing a
game of mah-jongg solitaire. A retired soldier in the People’s Liberation Army,
Wang Xingeng, 89, remembered the first time he visited Sanya more than a half-century
ago, just after the Communist Party’s 1949 takeover.
“Back
then, the island was all shabby little huts, there were no buildings,” Mr. Wang
said. “It was the poorest place I’d ever seen. It’s where they sent criminals.”
“I
never thought I’d be back here,” he added, looking around pensively at his
fellow snowbirds. “But now I’ve come full circle.”
Karoline
Kan contributed research.
Follow
Amy Qin on Twitter: @amyyqin.
