West Lake Walkabout

We woke on our first morning in Hangzhou to the sound of birds chirping in the courtyard. I kept my eyes squeezed shut and listened intently to their song, not yet wanting to break the spell, and tried to imagine what words the ancient Chinese poets would use to describe the moment. Is it possible that there was a proverb somewhere in their early morning music?

My meditation was interrupted by the radically less melodic banging of what sounded like a large metal plate. A lone discordant cymbal was doing a very good job vibrating every bone in my body. Clang! Clang! Clang! I’m awake! I’m awake! I am sure it was something ancient and ceremonial, but in my pre-coffee haze it seemed cruel.

Downstairs, we enjoyed our first breakfast in China as we made loose plans for the day. The grey morning light painted a beautiful wash over the ivory-colored, marble-topped table where we sat over a simple bowl of unadorned congee, sweet steamed bread rolls, instant coffee with milk, and a small dish filled with a mysterious vegetable. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not, but I kept nibbling on the pungent, pickle-y, fermented-y little green bits trying to form an opinion. I did become certain of one thing, however: dragon breath. Turns out that coffee and fermented veggies is an intense combination- especially in the morning. Note taken. The resident cat made her noisy rounds entwining our feet in an attempt to make us stay- but we were off- venturing out on a leisurely walk to the West Lake by way of some of the older sections of the city.

Laundry seemed to hang out from almost every window. Colourful strings making patchwork art out of building facades. Old folks with deeply wrinkled faces sat at small tables on the sidewalks. The men smoked, and the women sat peacefully contemplating the day ahead- or perhaps some moment lost to time. Doors opened into centuries-old courtyards and narrow alleys, and the morning sun spilled a golden glow across white washed buildings chipped with age, taking on the colour of tea. We followed a shaded path along one of the many waterways that traverse Hangzhou City. Weeping willows dangled their delicate bows. Half moon bridges cast their reflections into the water creating unbroken circles. I suddenly felt like I had stepped into an impressionistic painting: all dappled light and watercolours.

Passing by a collection of fans crowded into the window of a little storefront, we stepped inside- into a shop filled with treasures. Landscapes of ink sprawled across marvelous expanses of accordioned paper. There were painted silks, and ornate scenes carved into ebony and sandalwood- imbued with faint perfumes- whole worlds able to collapse into a handbag…

Onward to the West Lake!

We paused at an intersection to check the map, consumed with thoughts over the names of spots we would find- names like poetry: ‘lingering snow on the broken bridge in winter’, ‘three pools mirroring the moon’, ‘orioles singing in the willows’. I wondered if I would be able to pick out the scenes that led to such inspired titles when we arrived. We passed under the gates that marked the entrance to the park, and straight into a grove of trees. Slender trunks of dark wood stretched toward the sky, sprouting pale leaves that came together to form a lacy canopy overhead. Everything was quite peaceful in spite of the crowds, and eventually green nature gave way to a flat expanse of water. There were hills in the distance, vague and soft. Vintage looking boats glided by, and to our left the unmistakable silhouette of Leifang Pagoda- its octagonal 5 storeys perched on top of Evening Glow Mountain, overlooking the lake. Originally built in 975 by King Qian Chu to celebrate the birth of his son by his favourite concubine, it is also associated with the Legend of the White Snake: a supernatural tale of romance and treachery. A compelling structure to gaze at… especially if you imagine a white snake spirit imprisoned underneath!

 

We continued our stroll with every intention of making our way closer to Leifang, thinking that we would take in the view from the top- but, our intentions were diverted. It had been over 3 hours since we had last eaten; a figure wholly unacceptable when you are dedicated to eating your way across wherever you happen to be (like I am). So we wandered off, in search of some little hole in the wall where we could sit down and start to get a taste-sense of what the Anhui region was all about.

On our right, not far from the park, we passed through the shade of an imposing building. The windowless brick wall with the red Communist star emblazoned on the side seemed to appear out of nowhere. We slowed our pace, and I considered snapping a photo until we realized that we had acquired a “shadow.” An unassuming man had become quite interested in our actions, and was following just a few paces behind. My husband whispered to me, and I turned around to get a better look- but almost immediately became distracted by smells too good to ignore emanating from a nearby doorway. I was suddenly face to face with a picture menu so large that it filled up the entire side of a building.

Thoroughly engrossed with the larger than life dishes in front of us I nearly forgot about our shadow. Apparently concerned he may have been made, he finally passed us. Looking back over his shoulder with disturbing regularity he kept tabs for as long as possible, as if at any moment we would begin to engage in something… nefarious. Of course, all of this was nearly forgotten as we debated which dish to try first. A woman poked her head out of the door. We greeted her with our best ‘nĭ hăo’ and pointed to the picture occupying the upper right hand corner. Under the Chinese characters it said ‘spicy pork.’ We took a seat inside, already planning which dish we would choose next, and within minutes a plate of tofu arrived at our table. The picture had featured a plate of white cubes- distinctly un-porky looking- but I hadn’t thought anything of it.

It wasn’t pork, but it was wonderful (a meatless version of mapo tofu). It had just the right amount of burn, with scallion and fresh ginger lending a delicious brightness to the chili oil based sauce. We devoured the heaps of soft, melt on your tongue cubes and went back outside to point at a second plate. ‘Stir fry meat and peppers.’ Tender, and lightly sweet with squares of crisp peppers that left a subtle green spicy flavour pleasantly lingering. I was gearing up for round 3, when my husband reminded me that I should consider saving a bit of room for more, somewhere else. The afternoon was young and there was still so much to see eat.

 

 

It is about a 30 minute walk from Quinghefang Ancient Street to the entrance gate of the West Lake Park nearest ‘Orioles Singing in the Willows”. Click here for an area map

 

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