Nanjing is a delicate, sedate lady whose repose is undisturbed by the fury of commerce that is the lifeblood of Shanghai.  Her main boulevard is laced with bright flowers. Traffic flows at a leisurely pace, buildings are older and more traditional, and new construction is limited.

The Qinhuai River winds slowly through the city and nearby is the Nanjing Kingsley Hotel. This new hotel is a technological masterpiece of design, comfort and convenience, at once a symbol of the new China and a contrast to its more antique surroundings.

I am shocked to discover, upon entering one of the hotel's five elevators, that there are no buttons to press to reach a particular floor. Indeed, as I stand bewildered, the doors close and I am swiftly whisked to an upper floor, where another hotel patron waits to descend. The confusion is cleared up when I learn that the elevators are centrally controlled and coordinated. Before entering an elevator in the lobby, you must press a keypad to indicate the desired floor. An LCD display points an arrow left or right to one of five elevators. You enter that elevator and are carried to the floor you have chosen.

I enter my room with the electronic key that has become standard throughout the world. After entering, I insert the key in a special device on the wall and all electrical devices are energized—lights, air-conditioning, television, refrigerator, and so forth. Whenever I leave the room and pocket my key, all electric devices are shut off, a fine example of energy conservation.

There is no need to belabor an explanation of the many amenities here, which include responsive personnel, excellent room service, fine restaurants, a business center, and so on. But I cannot refrain from pointing out that a spacious room on the top floor with an entire wall of windows overlooking the city costs only the equivalent of $100 per night. While this is expensive by Chinese standards (830 yuan or ten days' wages), it is inexpensive in the U.S. where, for example, you may pay over $300 for a night at the unextraordinary Mark Hopkins on San Francisco's Nob—employees say "Snob"—Hill.

Fifteen years ago, contrasts in economic development were extreme: China had one foot in the 10th century and the other in the 20th. In the small city of Zhengzhou, with a population of about one million, I saw farming practiced as it had been for a thousand years: wheat was threshed on the highway and, despite the February cold, bare-legged workers waded into rice paddies to cultivate the crop. In nearby Green Village there were mud huts without windows. Many peasants were illiterate. At the same time, looking skyward I could see a modern jet fighter speeding through the sky. I could read of the launching of communication satellites, the installation of fiber optic cables, the transition to direct overseas dialing. Such contrasts may still be seen in the countryside in western China.

To amend the French aphorism: The more things change, the more things change.