ON Shanghai's Nanjing Rd, Westerners face relentless pestering from an army of pedlars touting counterfeit designer bags and watches.

China may have officially pledged its allegiance to various worldwide copyright agreements, but out on the streets - as far as fakes are concerned - anything still goes. Not everyone who stops you, however, is hoping to sell you an ersatz Prada bag or a rogue Rolex. One earnest man, after hearing me speak, tapped my shoulder. "Sir, you are British perhaps. Rule Britannia. Yes? How is Tower Bridge, sir?"

The days of British gunboat diplomacy and opium wars may have left a scar on China but, for many of its citizens inhabitants, it seems Britain still inspires fond feelings.

In Hong Kong, an anxious taxi driver asked me: "And how is our gracious Queen?" sounding a little like a relative who regrets that a favourite aunt no longer keeps in touch.

Britain was once the presiding power in this part of the world. While the UK Britain may not have moved on much in 20 years, in the same period Hong Kong and Shanghai have raced ahead. Both can now claim to be among the most exciting cities not just in Asia but the world.

When I last visited Hong Kong in the days when it still flew the Union Jack, the most exciting part of the trip was the famously terrifying approach to the old Kai Tak Airport. Arriving aircraft had a habit of lining up their final approach to the runway by wheeling around a hilltop cemetery; looking out the window, you seemed to be within touching distance of crumbling gravestones.

Suddenly the plane would plummet to earth on a route that appeared to require the pilot to weave his way through a housing estate, as the close-up view of gravestones was replaced by drying laundry on balconies practically scraping the wingtips.

Just as you thought you were about to touch down on the high street, the plane hopped a perimeter fence and the pilot began a ferocious battle to stop his jet careering off the abbreviated runway and into Victoria Harbour.

"A good landing is one where you don't get your feet wet," a Hong Kong pilot once told me.

This time around, landing in Hong Kong was like a trip to the future: our plane gently descended on to an impossibly vast runway. Chek Lap Kok airport (the world's most expensive, and opened 14 years ago) was created on reclaimed land.

Once inside, it seemed to me that the vast spaces of the terminal building were intended for giants. From the old airport, you joined the snarled-up traffic on a slow-go into town; now there are wide motorways and fast trains that whisk you towards the centre, which also bristles with modernity.

It's a forest of elegant tower blocks and cavernous shopping malls, each with their generous ration of Gucci, Prada and Louis Vuitton.

Compared with Hong Kong, Shanghai is generally less elegant, with the exception of the glorious Art Deco riverside Bund and the low-rise old French Concession quarter.

Shanghai is, however, not to be outdone when it comes to designer labels. While Nanjing Rd has a thriving market selling fake designs, dozens of shops on the same street sell the real thing. And it's hard not to notice the number of luxury car showrooms.

Locals turn up at the Ferrari dealer with cash in a suitcase and generally want their new car in pink. That's no problem now that head office in Italy has approved the colour after a crop of dodgy local resprays threatened to damage the marque's Chinese reputation.

Its hard to imagine how Shanghai has journeyed so fast from Mao's Little Red Book to Ferrari's Fiery Red Car.

The city map from the local tourist office even carries a big ad for the local Hooters restaurants, staffed by bosomy waitresses.

What would Mao say about this, you wonder?

But while the Communist Party has admitted defeat in the fight against capitalism, it has seems to have no intention of relaxing its controls on free speech.

Most people feel that China's battle against the forces of the web and worldwide TV news are comparable to King Canute attempting to turn back the tide: China will have to change - the question is how and when.

Every morning from about 6am, the park next to my hotel would fill with people - mostly senior citizens - joining a variety of jolly exercise classes.

I'd heard of the Chinese doing tai chi at dawn but there were also lots of less structured keep-fit groups and scores of people wandering around, many walking backwards all clapping their hands and tapping their arms.

Some were busy embracing tree trunks, to free up the energy channels, apparently, while a couple of people were teaching themselves the saxophone.

At the central park in Shanghai's People's Square, a large section is used by parents seeking partners for their unmarried children, with swathes of noticeboards advertising the marriageability of sons and daughters. In a country where the one child a family rule still holds sway, parents clearly worry that they will not become grandparents.

It should have been no surprise that China continues to be the home of good food. I joined an excellent food tour of Shanghai's backstreet noodle restaurants and had a real gastronomic treat - I would never have guessed that peanut-butter-flavoured noodles would be so extraordinarily delicious.

My hotel, the PuLi, was surrounded by Louis Vuitton and Chanel shops and was thronged with an achingly fashionable clientele.

Sam's Tailor may not be the best outfitter in Hong Kong, according to one guidebook, but it is certainly the best known.

Another travel book warns that getting a suit made in Hong Kong is no longer the bargain it was. Having benefited from the services of Sam's Tailor, at Burlington Arcade, Kowloon (samstailor.com), I am able to question both assertions.

Roshan, grandson of the original Sam, keeps the tailoring secrets of the great and the good to himself, but if it's good enough for Kate Moss . . .

Getting around by taxi is cheap, but even cheaper is the metro, where a sign warns travellers to avoid jumping into the tunnel. I successfully resisted the temptation.

While Shanghai and Hong Kong have much in common, it surprised me how different they are. Hong Kong has retained its independence after China regained administrative control from Britain 15 years ago.

I imagined it would quickly lose its identity, but it remains very much its own place with its own style. It has restaurants such as Sevva, with its famous rooftop terrace and an ambience plucked straight from London's Shoreditch House.

And bright new places emerge all the time: the Ritz Carlton has become a bastion of cool with its Ozone bar (a firm favourite of Lady Gaga when she was in town) and View 62 restaurant.

Most people will find plenty more than enough to amuse themselves in Hong Kong centre, but take thanks to the metro you can be deep in the countryside in less than half an hour.

I took the line that leads to Disneyland, which opened in 2005, but travelled one stop beyond to Ngong Ping for the 5.6km3.5-mile cable-car ride up to the giant Tian Tan Buddha statue.

You can pay extra to travel in a cable car with a glass floor, which offers an experience similar to the feeling that you are flying. On the way up to the Buddha, you get a glorious bird's-eye view of the airport.

In the tourist village next to the Buddha, I was tempted to make a visit to the fortune teller. When I was last here, one of them told me that I would live until I was 91 and I wanted to know if this was still the case.

My plans were thwarted when I found the fortune-teller's shop closed - because of unforeseen circumstances, I guessed.

But Hong Kong, like Shanghai, has no need of a soothsayer to predict its future.

Both cities are continuing to boom and, for tourists, they both offer unmissable delights.