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Bryan Stumpf's China Journal |
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First
Trip Out of
Shanghai Though I only spent three days in Hangzhou, it
remains one of my favorite places so far in China. I hope you enjoy reading it. Of all of the places to see in China, my first choice was Hangzhou, a city just south of Shanghai, for two reasons: 1) There’s a very famous lake in the heart of the city – so famous, in fact, that 35 lakes in China have been named after it, and 2) there’s a famous saying in China that goes, “In heaven there is paradise, on earth there is Hangzhou.” I don’t know whether this saying came from Confucius, Buddha, or a travel agency, but it conjured up this image of this little bucolic lake town with wooden boats being rowed across the lake by elder Chinese men in gray robes and straw hats. So only three weeks after my arrival in China, Yaping and I escaped the hustle and bustle of Shanghai for a weekend in Hangzhou (pronounce Han-Joe). We sped off in a subway to Shanghai’s South Railway Station, or actually the temporary train station just south of the South Railway Station - which was currently under renovation. As we tried to find our gate in the temporary train station, Yaping kept emphasizing that this was not the typical Shanghai station, and that Shanghai stations are actually MUCH nicer. I suppose her fretting over my first impressions wasn’t surprising since the boarding platform resembled the inside of a storage shed. But our train arrived right on schedule, and we were on our way to Hangzhou. I sat at the window seat since this was my first chance to see the countryside outside of Shanghai. As the urban sprawl of Shanghai gradually faded into the distance, I saw a mostly parched land with a few shallow streams. But over several streams were surprisingly elaborate bridges. The bridges seemed more ornate and less practical than I would imagine for rural living. There was a scattering of very large houses. They were the size of the plantation manors of the American South, but with very drab and utilitarian exteriors. I wondered if the large houses were the “danweis” I had read about in my guidebooks - dwellings for collectives of farm laborers. I also saw many small fields wedged together in long tracts of land. Some of the crops looked familiar, like wheat and canola, but some crops I had never seen in any American landscape. There were these watery plots of land with bright green sprouts that I assumed were rice paddies - I went to Yaping for confirmation. I discovered that Yaping is a bit of a city girl. Though she kept insisting that she had once planted rice, she couldn’t really confirm whether we were looking at rice paddies or not. In her defense, she claimed the reason she couldn’t recognize these rice paddies was because “the train was going too fast.” When we arrived at Hangzhou, I was a bit disappointed because it was much more developed and citified than I thought it would be. It looked a little too similar to Shanghai. But after we settled into our hotel, and took the shortest route to the lake, my anxiety soon melted away. It turned out to be a very charming lake. I loved feeling the breeze off the water and smelling the freshwater in the air. As long as I didn’t peek over my shoulder at the over-developed municipality, Hangzhou was very close to the peaceful pastoral setting I had imagined. West Lake is about 3km and a bit under 3 km wide. Two causeways, the Baldi and the Sudi, split the lake into sections. The causeways have a number of arched bridges large enough for small boats to pass under. Surrounding the lake, you’ll find gardens, wooded trails, and pavilions. In the lake, there were covered paddleboats for hire and ferries – not quite the wizened Chinese men on wooden skiffs I had imagined. As we walked along the Baldi causeway, I kept telling Yaping how Hangzhou was so much more peaceful and serene than Shanghai. “No honking horns, no big crowds, no car pollution.” I loved how Hangzhou was a much more natural environment than Shanghai, all the lush green around the lake, the many trees, and of course the lake itself. Yaping looked beyond my Hangzhou musings and saw that I was basically bashing Shanghai. So she retorted, “Fine, live in Hangzhou then.” As we ambled further along West Lake, we traversed several bridges and explored some lakeside trails. In searching for a restaurant recommended by my guidebook, we ventured into West Lake’s botanical garden. The garden, much like the West Lake itself, was so idyllic, I wasn’t surprised it had attracted artists and dignitaries from all over the world. We found a sequoia pine planted by Richard Nixon during his visit in 1972. We eventually found the restaurant. Though the guidebook recommended the “fish head soup,” we lost our appetite for fish heads when we unfortunately walked by the loading dock of the restaurant. We saw a fresh delivery of the three-foot long fish. The fish, still alive, were being thrown into a plastic crate on the pavement; they were writhing, thrashing, and gasping their last breathes. So instead of soup, we ordered a sample platter of steamed buns. I promptly fell in love with the deep-fried steamed buns; I don’t know whether they were steamed first and then fried or just fried, but they tasted just like fried bread. Content with our meal, we decided to find a quiet spot in the botanical garden where we could do some reading. Before our trip Yaping and I made an agreement: after a busy first two weeks at Jiao Tong, we had to make sure we made time in Hangzhou for just stopping and relaxing, and not just bustling along from one place to the next. We found a quiet pond with stepping-stones that led to a little island at its center. Yaping read on a bench at pond-side, while I read on a boulder on the island. After reading for about an hour, we trekked back towards West Lake. But before leaving the botanical garden, I spotted a pug. Being fond of this prune-faced breed of dog, I promptly chased after the little guy. Now in preparing for my stay in China, I had learned a few very important Chinese phrases: first, I learned to say, “Ni chu le ma?” meaning, “Have you eaten?” but then I learned to say, “choi gou” meaning, “little dog.” So as I pursued the pug, I kept pointing and shouting, “Choi gou! Chou gou!” In my excited state, I failed to notice that the pug clearly wanted to be left alone and his owner was quite puzzled by my behavior. Though the pug never really warmed to me, his owner was able to persuade him to pose for some pictures with me. But after suffering through a few shots, the pug soon trotted away indignantly. After leaving the botanical garden, we found a very serene bamboo forest (is there any other kind?) and, assuming we’d find a shortcut to West Lake, we started on a trail through the trees. Of course, we promptly got lost. After asking directions from a few locals, we hiked our way to the other side of the forest, and found ourselves back on the banks of West Lake. But now we were on the shore opposite the city, so we explored more lakeside trails, picnic nooks and pavilions. Soon it was starting to get dark, so we headed back toward the hotel along the Baldi causeway. The breeze off the lake was perfect, the purple sunset was perfect, and the quiet lapping of the lake on the causeway was also perfect. All along the causeway, I noticed small birds fluttering overhead. They were really just silhouettes, but there were a lot of them. I wanted to tell Yaping how it was unfortunate you didn’t see cute little birds like these around Shanghai, but thought better of it. And then, I took a closer look at the cute little bird silhouettes, and I realized they were not cute little birds at all. They were bats. I pointed this out to Yaping and she looked concerned. “Do you mean like vampire bats? With fangs?” I smirked and patronizingly patted her on the shoulder, “No Yaping, bats are harmless - except they are known to carry rabies.” But after saying this, it was me who started feeling concerned. I had recently read that rabies was still a big problem in China. And it wouldn’t be fun to have rabies in China, far from any American medical facilities. And these bats were actually flying quite close to people. In fact, a few had whooshed right near my head. I discreetly picked up my pace. When one of them nearly brushed my face, I just about yelped. I almost suggested to Yaping that we bolt for mainland. But we both managed to stay calm all the way to the end of the causeway. I was quietly relieved when the number of bats thinned out as we walked down the streets to our hotel. After a long day on our feet, we were ready to take
advantage of the free hotel amenities. We had free HBO, free tea, free cookies,
free newspapers, and most importantly, a 20% discount for a foot massage in the
third floor health center. Needless to say, we took advantage of all five
amenities before heading to bed. Not a bad way to end your day. Saturday - Day Two In the morning, the first thing I wanted to do was go for a run. Long before leaving America, I had wanted get back into running daily, but I could never find the time. I hoped I’d have more time for running in China. But when I discovered the sidewalks and parks of Shanghai are too crowded for running, I started looking for less-crowded and less-paved locations outside of the city. Hangzhou’s West Lake seemed to be my best choice. So, early Saturday morning, I donned my running gear and headed to the lake. Yaping walked with me to the waterfront; her plan was to sit on a bench by the lake and read while I ran. My plan was to run for about 60 minutes, then shower at the hotel, and then meet her back at the bench. She gave me a thumbs-up and I charged off for the Baldi Causeway. I knew I would draw a lot of attention - I was a foreigner and I was showing a lot of leg in my running shorts. But the biggest attention-getter would be the simple fact that I was sprinting down the causeway while everyone else strolled leisurely. And sure enough, as soon as I crested the first bridge of the causeway, I started seeing stares and double-takes. I felt like Rocky running through the streets of Philadelphia. Along my run, most passers-by just stared, but quite a few actually wanted to show their support. A lot of them smiled and waved and others cheered (or heckled maybe) as I ran by. The most memorable show of support was when I trudged up the middle bridge of the Baldi Causeway. As I ran up the bridge, a man sweeping the street looked up, smiled, gave me a thumbs-up, and shouted, “OK!” The width of the causeway consisted of sidewalks along the waterfront and, down the middle, a paved road wide enough for two cars. Very little traffic is allowed on the road – once in a while a random tour bus would cruise by – but barriers at both ends of the causeway prevented it from being a thoroughfare. But there were more pedestrians than I expected and I had to do some bucking and weaving around people. I noticed the only part of the causeway that wasn’t overcrowded was right down the middle of the paved road. So even though I feared it would probably draw even more attention, I decided to run along the yellow line right down the middle of the road. Unfortunately, during my run, a few tour buses, full of gawking tourists, slowly passed by me – practically matching my pace. I swear some of the bus drivers were taunting me by keeping pace with me for short stretches, then eventually stepping on the accelerator on an incline. I imagined the Chinese commentary on the bus’s loudspeakers saying, “And here on our left we have an out-of-shape American, trying to burn off all the calories from his American fast food. Run, American, run!” But I charged onward and made sure I didn’t do my turn-around until I was 30 minutes from Yaping. On the run back, I did stop and sit on a park bench for a moment. From where I sat at the edge of a canal, I noticed a wedding ceremony at the opposite bank. The bride and groom were standing on a rock right next to the water. They appeared to be reciting their vows. It was a surreal moment - to be sitting on a bench on one bank, panting from a long run, and watching a fairy tale wedding unfold on the opposite bank. After the rest, I ran back to the hotel, took a quick shower, then returned to Yaping. Though it was already close to noon, we still had a full day planned. Our first stop would be Lingyin Si, The Temple of the Soul’s Retreat - my first introduction to a Buddhist Temple in China. Actually, Lingyin Si is more than just a temple - it’s several temples, a few gardens, and lots of souvenir shops. After Yaping and I passed through the entrance, instead of following everyone else along the main footpath to the first temple, we chose to walk through a garden area first. It was less crowded and very peaceful. As we walked along various trails, Yaping told me all that she knew of the stories of Buddha. We found a path that wound up a hill and, according to a sign, led to “grottos and caves.” We followed signs up the hill, passed several cypress trees, and once we reached the top, Lingyin Si came into view. Below us, at the bottom of the hill, the main temple was enshrouded in mist and surrounded by very tall cypress trees. It was much larger and more imposing than I had imagined. Yaping and I were so excited about the temple that we forgot about the “grottos and caves” and just plunged down the hill toward the temple. The path down the hill ended at a shallow brook. The temple was basically directly across the brook, and luckily there was a stone bridge a short distance downstream. We followed a narrow footpath along a brook toward the bridge. We saw droves of people trudging up the main footpath to the main temple - it looked like our garden excursion turned out to be a shortcut. On our way to the bridge, we discovered several carvings in the stone side of the hill. In each carving, it looked as though a part of the stone wall had been scooped away, and intricately carved statues had just sprouted from the stone floor. The statues depicted Buddhist figures in various poses. We continued along the path, stopping only to take pictures of a few of the more amazing carvings, until we finally reached a stone bridge. We were soon in the courtyard of two very large Buddhist worship halls. The air was filled with the fragrance of burning incense. People were buying incense candles by the handful. In the middle of the courtyard, a bonfire burned within a large cauldron and people were lighting their incense in the cauldron’s fire. Once the incense was lit, the Buddhists would hold the flaming incense above their head and then bow in four directions. I noticed a few of them getting embers in their hair during their bowing, and afterwards they needed a friend’s help in removing the embers. There was a mountain behind the main temple and there were actually several more temples built into the mountainside. To visit each temple, you needed to climb a never-ending set of stairs. Undaunted by the stairs, we started our ascent. In each temple, we saw more of what we saw in the main temple – statues of various Buddhist figures. I noticed on many of the Buddhist statues, the earlobes are, for some reason, unnaturally long. We continued our climb to the rest of the temples. At each temple, I looked for the Laughing Buddha. The Laughing Buddha was prominently displayed on the Lingyin Si’s brochure and he was specifically mentioned in my China guidebook. Apparently, he was the most popular part of the temple, and from the picture, you could see why – he was so jovial, so potbellied, you had to smile when you looked at him. As we trudged up the stairs, it became my goal to see the Laughing Buddha before we left Lingyin Si. And I assumed he would be in the temple at the very top of the mountain. Unfortunately, if I found the statue, I probably wouldn’t be able to get a picture with him. No photographs can be taken inside any of the Buddhist temples – the monks and the postcard industry are sensitive to the reproduction of Buddha’s image. Halfway up the mountain, we found the 500 “arhat” statues. Arhats are Buddhist monks who have achieved enlightenment and passed to nirvana after death. All 500 arhat statues are life-sized, so the temple containing them was vast. Amazingly, each arhat had a different facial expression - no two looked alike. It seemed the sculptors went to great lengths to make each arhat look different. Many arhats had very bizarre facial expressions. One jolly fellow had eyebrows that went down to his chest. After the arhats, we continued our quest for the Laughing Buddha. We’d often stop to look at the view over the rooftops of each temple, each time seeing a better view of rolling mountains veiled in mist. When we finally reached the top temple, I was puzzled to find that it did NOT contain the Laughing Buddha. Yaping asked two monks where the Laughing Buddha was and they both pointed in the same direction – at the bottom of the mountain. Still undaunted, we began our descent. But there was a lot less talking between Yaping and me on our way down. When we finally returned to the main temple area, Yaping asked more monks for the location of the Laughing Buddha. They pointed to the main temple. We were confused because we had been inside the main temple, yet we didn’t see any Laughing Buddha. After Yaping inquired with a few more monks, we finally discovered that there were TWO Laughing Buddhas. And the Laughing Buddha we were looking for wasn’t even in a temple – it was beside the main footpath, halfway between the entrance and the main temple. By taking our shortcut through the garden area, we had just missed him. So on our way down the main footpath toward the exit, we finally found our Laughing Buddha. He was actually the first of the carvings in the mountain – we had only seen the last few after taking our short cut. There was good news though: since the Laughing Budda was not inside a temple, there were no restrictions against taking pictures with him. So we made sure to take a few shots with statue before heading for Lingyin Si’s exit. Right outside the temple area, we had dinner in a restaurant recommended by my China guidebook and then we took a bus to our last destination for the day: the Wushan Night Market. A night market is, obviously, only open at night, but they usually have a lot of artists selling their wares and snack-makers selling their snacks. The market was flush with lights - not really the flashy neon you see on city streets, just modest strings of light. Strangely, there was also a smell like cow dung in the air. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was cow dung or not because there is a kind of tofu, affectionately called “smelly tofu,” that gives off a very similar smell after it is deep-fried. But the night air was thick with the smell – either someone was selling smelly tofu by the ton, or there was a heap of cow dung hidden somewhere in the market. Either way, I didn’t really mind – it actually added to the market’s charm. Yaping and I first started haggling with various vendors in the market. First, I haggled for an engraved marble seal – the kind that left an imprint when you pressed into melted wax. I also haggled for some paper-cuts – a Chinese artwork that involves very intricate cutting of thin, colored paper to create see-through art; imagine very, very complicated paper dolls. After haggling, Yaping insisted I sample every type of snack in the whole market. With every snack we saw, she would claim it was a “traditional Chinese snack” - and Yaping insists that I try everything “traditional” and “Chinese.” I was obliging at first, but after about a dozen different snacks I begged her to cease our snack binge. She somehow convinced me to try one last snack – something she called “lotus paste.” Lotus paste is made by grinding up lotus seeds into a fine powder, and when boiling water is added, it becomes a flavorless goo. Yaping claimed the goo was very popular, but more importantly, it was also a traditional Chinese snack. With my snack binge finally over, I asked Yaping to find a wheelbarrow to carry me home in. But first, she pointed out a traditional Chinese pharmacy that I had to check out. Luckily, the pharmacy was downhill from where I stood, so I just made like a ball and rolled to the entrance. The pharmacy mostly sold herbs, roots, and various kinds of tea. On the counter, there was a large glass jug filled with a brown liquid. Upon closer inspection, I could see animal parts, whole snakes, and small lizards marinating in the liquid. And at the bottom of the jug was a spigot. When I pointed this out to Yaping, she explained that it was a “healing tonic” and people drank it to cure various maladies. Though they weren’t selling anything like Tylenol or Nyquil, it was real, fully-functioning pharmacy, and judging from the scores of people, a quite popular one. As we walked out the door, Yaping stopped me to show me what the man at the pharmacy’s front door was selling. To his right was a deep-fryer, and to his left was a bowl full of live scorpions. He was selling deep-fried scorpions as snacks. There were a few live scorpions impaled on wooden sticks and still twitching. Noticing my curiosity, the man got up from his seat and enthusiastically told me, in Chinese, that all I had to do was say the word, and he would fry a scorpion up for me, nice and crisp. I asked Yaping to translate my decline to his offer: “My doctor warned me to cut down on eating fried food.” He then said something to Yaping in Chinese. Yaping laughed and motioned for me to move along. As we made our way out of the Wushan Night Market, I asked Yaping what the scorpion seller said. She smiled and said, “He suggested you snack on a live scorpion instead.” A short cab ride later and we were back at the hotel looking for more amenities to take advantage of.
The next morning it was drizzly outside, and looking for any excuse not to run again, I pronounced it “not proper running weather.” So we slept in a bit. It wasn’t until after 9am when we wandered into the banquet hall for our free breakfast. I was introduced to some new Chinese breakfast foods. I tried Chinese porridge and also a food that Yaping called a “fried stick,” basically a long piece of fried bread. And I washed it all down with warm soymilk. Today, in Hangzhou, we were riding the ferry to the two islands in the middle of the lake. Our train for Shanghai departed at 1pm, but it would only take about three hours to ferry to both islands and then back to the mainland. Both islands were very small – so small, in fact, they were only large enough for a couple of bathrooms and a few dozen souvenir sellers. The ride to the first island was pleasant with views of the ancient pagodas on hilltops along the lake. The ride was also pleasant because I befriended a three year-old Chinese boy. Our conversation consisted of saying “hello” back and forth – he would say “hello” in English, and I would say “hello” in Chinese. At the first island, it took only 5 minutes to walk the perimeter, so I decided to sit on a bench by the water and read the last few chapters of my book. Yaping decided instead to continue walking around the island and take pictures of the various views of Hangzhou. Every once in a while, I’d glance up from my reading and just watch the boats of West Lake go by and listen to the lapping water. Eventually, I put the book aside and just gazed into the lake. Yaping was able to rouse me from my trance by prodding me with a stick a few times. Then, we boarded the ferry to West Lake’s larger and more popular island - Lesser Ocean Island. The main attraction of the island was the “Three Pools Mirroring the Moon.” It was basically a string of three small towers in the water, each with five holes. And when the moon is full during the mid-autumn moon festival, shafts of light are reflected onto the water creating the illusion of three moons on the water. But there was one other attraction on the island that I really wanted to see. So I gave the towers only a passing glance, and made my way to the center of the island where I knew I would find the Red Carp Pond - a pond filled with giant goldfish. There was a bridge over the pond and crowds of people were at different points along the bridge feeding the fish. It was like a competition with each crowd trying to draw the most fish. It really didn’t matter what food was being offered - carp will eat anything – what mattered was how much food you were willing to offer. I was lucky enough to have a box full of crackers in our backpack. So Yaping rolled her eyes while I excitedly grabbed the crackers and started tossing them into the fish-filled pond. Finally, after my cracker supply was completely exhausted, we rode the next ferry back to the mainland. It didn’t take us long to pack our belongings, check out of the hotel, and cab it back to the train station. I didn’t want to leave Hangzhou’s tranquility for the hustle and bustle of Shanghai, but I was content with how much territory we had covered in a few days: we’d been down both causeways, escaping both ravenous bats and gawking tourists; we’d hiked high up a Hangzhou mountainside looking for a Laughing Buddha that wasn’t there; and we’d chased little dogs through botanical gardens. And as our train lumbered back to Shanghai, I realized that
Hangzhou could be a possible place to visit on my own on a day-trip. Trains run
between Shanghai and Hangzhou every day, the ride is short, and the tickets are
cheap. All I would need to do is learn a little more Chinese than, “Have you
eaten - a little dog?”
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