hangzhoujournal

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I remember reading one of those listings that pop up on the Yahoo home page
whenever I go to check emails, that named what some travel writers regarded as the ten most beautiful causeways in the world. Although I don’t remember what causeways were listed, I was kind of surprised to see that the Venetian causeway, not in Venice, Italy, but Miami, Florida was listed among them. The West Lake in Hang Zhou is traversed by three causeways - the Bai Causeway, the Su Causeway, and the Yanggong Causeway. If these spectacular land bridges were neither included nor ranked above the Venetian, somebody needs to revise that list already. Distinctive in their individuality as they are in their collective presence they are masterpieces of land art. Even on a misty day as today when visibility was poor, the power of the spirit of place was awe-inspiring. Timeless, ethereal, serene, they bridge the circumference of the lake and the oceans of time. Like traveling through a time capsule the causeways are a testimony to the enduring quality the Chinese culture - its irrepressible, strongly expressive character. A stroll through these vistas cannot fail to provoke emotion and challenge our perception of time and space.
Lined with the ubiquitous, soft, green willow trees on one side and hard, sturdy oak trees with their yellowing leaves on the other, the Bai Causeway is a study of the harmony of opposites- an imprimatur of the Chinese Way. Constructed some time in the 9th Century it is the most ancient of the West Lakes’ causeways.
The 2.8 km Su Causeway was built by clay dredged from the lake. Six bridges,
Each of them planted with alternating willow and peach trees line are strung along route like pearls on a necklace. I can only imagine the spectacle that it is in spring.
Originally built of clay from the West Lake by Yang Menying of the Ming Dynasty when he organized a dredging of the lake in the early 16th Century and recently rebuilt in 2003 the Yanggong Causeway is the longest of the three. I think that calling it a “causeway” is a bit of a misnomer. It is a quintessential oriental garden that happens to have a road running through it. It is 3.3 km. of pure sensual delights - a feast for the senses. With meandering paths, misty stands of forest, garlands of little gardens, pools of writhing carps wrapping themselves around each other, peacocks, resplendent, as proud as peacocks, strutting their stuff, orioles singing in the willows, cicadas clicking, lovers kissing beneath the cover of bamboo stands and pavilions that seem to grow out of the rockery, this could be Shangri -La .
Organic and wholistic in composition, the design of the architecture and landscaping along the causeways reflects the pervasive influence of Buddhism on the Chinese esthetic. The silhouettes of multi -tiered pagodas and temples perched atop not so distant hills and shrouded by the mist brings to life Chinese silk paintings that I am more used to seeing in books and museums. Maybe the designers perceived their creations as such, to be seen in part, thereby deepening the mystery and provoking the contemplation so essential for understanding and interacting with the changing world around them.
At an intersection I spot a fellow waiguoren (wie-gwoh-ren) , a foreign country person. Surprisingly for a city with so many millions of visitors a year I hadn’t seen many Westerners. Is that good or bad? After two hours of being lost in thought I was ready for some conversation.
So, with map in hand I approached him.
“Hey there, I think that I’m right here but I’m not sure”
“Yes, yes, that’s where we are,” he readily replied in a thick, non English language native speaker European accent, plucking out a guide book from his back pack for reference.
We introduced ourselves and began the 3km. trek across the Su Causeway together.
He was surprised that I’d been here more than 2 weeks now and was only just discovering the West Lake Causeways. I explained to him that I was here working and thought that I’d take my time. He would spend only one day here in Hang Zhou.
Michael, a recent graduate business school graduate from the Netherlands, had been traveling around China for about ten months now with his girlfriend and a group of other young entrepreneurs. He decided that he would take some time for himself today. They had spent sometime in Shanghai and visited the offices of urban planning and was absolutely stunned by the projections onboard for the next few years.
We talked about his travels so far and the complexity of communicating in a country with 10 regional languages and dozens of other dialects.
He lamented the fact that having traveled to a region out west expecting to find some respite from the city centers, he had witnessed a mountain being converted into a Disneyland type theme park
I told him that in a certain way, Hang Zhou, especially the area around the West Lake, reminded me of Amsterdam. He agreed.
At the Peony pavilion on the Yangdong causeway I met a party of three - Max, an Italian, Haruna , a Japanese woman and Delphine, a French woman. Max, a quite gregarious guy is an international language specialist and program designer. We talked a bit about Italy. He told me that he is from Tuscany but lives in Milan. Haruna is a petite, bubbly woman from Hokkaido, studying Chinese and working in Shanghai. Meeting anyone from Japan is always a special event for me. Japan is a country that I have always been fascinated with and each Japanese that I meet presents an opportunity to get a foretaste of a place that I know I will experience now sooner than later. My curiousity combined with her friendliness made for easy conversation. Delphine was more reserved, a bit taciturn, but with the rosy cheeks and winning smile of a French country girl she exuded a provincial warmth. I told her of my love for Paris. We took pictures of each other the way tourists that meet each other in a foreign land do. They are all staying in Shanghai and visiting Hang Zhou for the day. They invited me to visit whenever I return to Shanghai. We exchange contact information and bid each other adieu.
It would have been a perfect day if that little boy had allowed me to take a picture with him as his mother had wished. He protested, kicking and screaming. In the end I just had to settle for a photo with his mom. I wonder what he will say to himself 10 years from now when he looks at that photo.
A man approached me and asked me to do the same with his father. I obliged. Tourist as tourist attraction, hhhmmm.

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