Wang Jie

　　There is an old saying that the transition between boyhood and manhood is decided by one moment or one experience, and to Deke Erh, a millionaire photographer and cultural historian, that moment came when he began traveling at the age of 14.
　　"Since then, I have been very much fascinated by the outside world," said Erh, whose name, though Chinese, is unusual. "I could never stop myself traveling."
　　Born in 1959 in Tianjin, Erh, dressed casually, is a person who defies easy interpretation.
　　"Many people feel it hard to tell my nationality judging by my appearance," he said with a smile. "They just don't believe that I am a Shanghai citizen."
　　Erh was born into one of the big wealthy families with extensive business in old Shanghai. After the founding of the People's Republic of China, the family, like many others, moved to Hong Kong, leaving only Erh's father to take care of the fixed assets in Shanghai.
　　During the "cultural revolution" (1966-1976), his privileged family background caused problems.
　　"I remember that I was very upset during that period," he said. "I tried to hide myself from the attention of others, so nobody could bully me."
　　To give him a break from his hard life, his father sent him on the trip that was to define his life.
　　"I was given 10 yuan (US$1.20)," he said. "You know, at that time, it was a large sum of money." This supported his wandering through the streets and lanes of various provinces. As he traveled, he used his camera to record what he found and felt about the land and its people.
　　"Even as child, I realized the importance of money," he said. "Although my family used to be rich, everything I now own is the result of my own efforts."
　　Early in the 1980s, Erh began to work as a freelance photographer for overseas magazines, at a time when few Chinese followed such a career.
　　"The royalties I received from those magazines were good," he said. "To make the most of that, I was working for magazines at once, and the job nearly drove me to exhaustion."
　　Erh, now divorced, feels he has more freedom and leads a happier life. He has turned his home in the suburbs into a private folk-art museum.
　　The two-story house and its yard are crammed full of memorabilia from Shanghai and southern China: old shop signs, latticework windows, bridal bedsteads, street hawker stalls and more. Some of these antiques are valuable.
　　"I don't have the habit of saving money in a bank," he said coolly. "I prefer to buy antiques with it."
　　This habit has brought him unexpected fortune, since the objects he purchased at a low price in the years following the "cultural revolution" are now worth a great deal of money.
　　But he said he did not want to set himself up as an antique businessman. "My family used to possess things like these, and I really could not help myself buying them."
　　In 1992, he opened a company called Old China Hand Press. The Hong Kong-based imprint house publishes color albums depicting the culture of the Chinese and expatriate elite on the mainland in the early years of last century. Erh and American writer Tess Johnston produced a pair of idiosyncratic books: "A Last Look," which pictures old Shanghai buildings, and "Near to Heaven," a look at pre-liberation summer resorts in the city.
　　The Shanghai that these books conjure up is a nostalgic city, remembering its old romance and lamenting its past heyday-much to the delight of overseas tourists.
　　"I'd like to have something that will last for the next generation," he said, explaining that in this city of change, a book might last longer than a building.
　　Erh says that he is especially uncomfortable with the poorly designed new that are buildings replacing older ones. Perhaps it's because of this that he often keeps his distance from the city, traveling around China and the world.
　　"I have been to more than 40 countries," he recalls. "Some cities I've visited are very pleasant and comfortable to live in, like Florida and Quebec."
　　"I also traveled to the poor and undeveloped towns of China," he said. It is in these places that the old Chinese culture and art forms still remain, he noted.
　　But in recent years, instead of living on the edge of the city, Erh has gradually begun to live within its heart.
　　Among the tea housed and bars scattered around the city, he opened a café, called the Old China Hand Reading Room. Tucked in Shaoxing road, it , like its owner, is quiet and elegant, reminiscent of the old city he remembers so fondly.
　　"Many locals miss those days, and they were like a beautiful dream to them," he said.
　　An increasing numbers of locals are becoming Erh's customers. And perhaps that's the greatest compliment of all-a past for the residents, rather than the rose-tinted spectacles of tourists.