Street culture once signified disturbing nonconformity and weirdness. Today it's just another lifestyle choice, but there's not a whole lotta of skatin', rollin', dancin' or grafitti goin' on in these pristine streets.

Yang Li, 35, still remembers how difficult it was to convince his parents that he wasn't a roughneck rebel when he bought his first skateboard 16 years ago.

"Back then, anyone who skateboarded or did street dancing was essentially a 'little hooligan,' who wore earrings, dyed their hair and skipped school to play," he says. It was an unacceptable counterculture statement.

"When we practiced skateboarding in the neighborhood or on the streets, people looked at us as if we were freaks," says Yang, who is a sales manager.

He recently took his seven-year-old son to an extreme sports festival in remote Yangpu District.

Back then, there were no special plazas or parks, and you could only learn by yourself or from friends who might have started learning just a few months before you, he recalls.

Yang once was chased by police because he was riding home on a skateboard instead of walking.

Compared with the situation a decade ago, those who love street culture °??? extreme sports (boards, blades, bikes), street dancing and graffiti ?? can find many more facilities and far less hostility. It's also easier for them to find classes or places to practice. But girls seldom do it ?? too dangerous for the fragile flowers.

"To some extent, I'm jealous of today's kids who can easily find classes and facilities," says Yang. "Although some people still think of them weirdly, most just consider it a hobby, like playing the piano or chess."

True. Now that baggy pants, earrings and tattoos are no longer symbols of "little hooligans," lovers of street culture can finally show off their skills proudly in public. You don't do much action on downtown streets, however, partly because of regulations and partly for lack of space.

Skateboarders in small groups show up on some plazas once in a while, but mostly they go to SMP Skate Park far away from downtown in Yangpu District, or even more remote suburban areas in the city.

B-boys (B for break dancing) never dance on the street in Shanghai as they do in New York or Tokyo. And it's rare to see any graffiti downtown ?? it's prohibited ?? except for the long row outside 50 Moganshan Road, the creative hub. Otherwise, you can only find a few here and there in the more suburban and hidden places.

The first skateboard shop was opened in Shanghai in 1990, when most teenagers never heard of extreme sports, B-boys, or graffiti. They didn't see the cool skaters in American action movies or the stylish pop stars from Japan or South Korea until the late 1990s.

Girls are mainly spectators or fans rather than players, possibly because they're afraid it's too dangerous. More probably, it isn't "ladylike."

The plaza in front of the Shanghai Concert Hall is famous among extreme sports lovers. It is also one of the few unofficial spots downtown. Small groups practice once in a while. It's rare to see anyone rollerblading or skateboarding on the street in downtown. They are mostly in remote places like Yangpu, Songjiang or Nanhui districts.

"We are not sure about the regulations. It doesn't really say where you can skateboard or whether you can skateboard on the big roads," says 31-year-old Mark Zhao, who owns a small extreme sports shop Shark-O in Songjiang District near the Songjiang University Town.

"Apparently, it's dangerous in downtown because the roads are not designed for it. You can't even ride bicycles in many places, not to mention skateboards," he say.

"It's safer and easier in the suburbs, in parks or on campuses."

Like many extreme sports shops in Shanghai, Zhao's also holds lessons for beginners and organizes practice sessions.

Considering lack of girls in the group, Zhao gives girls a 30-percent discount on lessons ?? still, there aren't many takers.

"I like watching it because it looks very cool, and I have tried a little skateboarding, but it's too difficult," says Kiki Wang, a 19-year-old sophomore whose boyfriend Li Shu can't get her to practice with him.

"I don't like falling down, it looks bad and it hurts," she complains.

Shop owner Zhao sees many girls coming along with their boyfriends, but most are afraid. Only a few dare to try rollerblade, not to mention skateboard or BMP (bicycle mini pump).

Wang's boyfriend Li fell in love with skateboarding six years ago when he watched extreme sports competitions and shows on TV during the summer holiday. His parents supported him and considered it great exercise since Li had formerly been wedded to computer games all day.

"It's not about how good I am or how cool I look though I do want to look cool. It's like I finally found a motivation," Li says. "I was motivated to learn all the skills, the terms, and even to learn English so that I could chat with foreigners who do it."

He plans to skate until he's too old to handle the board.

Zhao says you can't pick up the sports without falling at all "but it's not as difficult or dangerous as you think ?? you just need protective gear."

Street dance

Street dancing or break dancing is an important part of hip-hop culture, and the dancers are known as B-boys and B-girls. Shanghai dancers haven't made great strides in national competitions, but the city has some studios and teams.

"Many people are interested in learning street dance, but very few stick to it for more than a year," says Dragon Wu who teaches at Shine Dance Studio.

"Many think it is cool without recognizing how much effort is required to dance well," says Wu. "Most people quit because they don't have enough time to practice. After all, it's not like you can make a living out of it."

Although he loves street dance, Wu says it's still rather underground, without much potential. Unlike singers, he says dancers around the world are often considered minor characters. Wu says that feeling is even stronger in Shanghai.

Commercial events and clubs would rather invite new singers than well-established dance groups. Many street dancers have other jobs to support themselves.

Wu can't support himself by teaching dancing or performing occasionally. His steady job is a trainer in a gym.

For amateurs like Justin Lin, it's much easier. The 17-year-old high school student got interested in street dance through a popular video game about dancing. Instead of going to dance schools, she easily found educational videos online, from basic poses to high-end techniques.

"It's really easy to pick up from the videos and I can learn by myself rather than keeping to a class schedule," says Lin.

Graffiti

Except for the long rows of graffiti outside 50 Moganshan Road, you can only find much smaller examples ?? often quickly scrubbed away ?? here and there in downtown Shanghai. The others are hidden under highways or in suburban Metro stations.

"I have never checked the regulations, but it's common sense that you can't paint on the wall in downtown. We don't even think about it," says 23-year-old art student Mickey Zhang. He was once caught by a guard in his neighborhood who ordered Zhang to clean up his graffiti and never do it again. Like a good boy, he promised.

Now Zhang only practices at his friend's studio, at art school or at a friend's request. Unlike graffiti artists in the United States, Zhang and his friends are not interested in expressing political views. It's just fun to draw fancy pictures on a large wall.

"But I feel like a thief at times, especially when we go out to do graffiti," says Zhang. "We always try to find a really empty place where nobody would stop us. But then, what's the meaning of doing it if nobody's going to see it?"

(Shanghai Daily November 24, 2008)