West Lake is perfect backdrop for drinking in beauty of Hangzhou
or season the names suggest. It doesn’t matter. The landscape during any time, season or weather displays the ideals of Chinese landscape aesthetics, and even though the full moon isn’t out in the morning, the three stone towers near Lesser Paradise Island cast dark reflections that seem to move with the ripples on the water.
Similarly, it’s a little late in the morning and the wrong season for Dawn on the Su Causeway in Spring, but as we row along its 1.7-mile length, the famed elements that span the causeway — willow trees, plum trees, peach trees and six arched bridges — glisten after the light rain. A full-circle reflection of the bridges turns a half moon into a full moon, and some impromptu classic Chinese flute music floats above the water from a group of musicians. It’s almost as if the moment were as carefully cultivated as the gardens around the lake.
In the rural foothills beyond West Lake, tea plantations line the slope of the hills in a perennial emerald pattern. The popularity of Longjing (Dragon Well) tea stretches back to the Qing Dynasty, when legend says that emperor Qianlong made it the official tea of the imperial court. That reputation, as well as another popular endorsement from Chairman Mao Zedong, continues to this day.
The tea variety itself, from a shrub called camellia sinensis, is dried into a flattened feather shape by tossing the leaves into a blazing hot wok with bare hands. And it’s believed that the best region for Longjing is here in Hangzhou’s West Lake district.
I wander between teahouses in the Meijiawu Tea Village, an entire township dedicated to the cultivation and heritage of Longjing tea. Just 30 minutes outside of Hangzhou, the village has more than 150 teahouses where visitors can learn about the entire process.
I won’t make it to all the teahouses in a day, so choose one where I can get a taste of Longjing, poured by an expert tea server who explains the entire process. The best batches of leaves from the springtime harvest can fetch hundreds of dollars, but there are less expensive batches as well.
On the table is a glass of yellow osmanthus flowers, and the fragrance in the teahouse alternates between the flowers and tea. The tea server pours the last sample cup, but her style differs this time, and she allows a thin layer of tea leaves to float on the top. Her hands graze the pile of osmanthus flowers, and she scatters a few in with the tea. The grassy, floral flavor combination matches the fragrance of the tea room. But the seasonal tea is special for a reason. It’s the only one not packaged.
While West Lake may get most of the attention, Xixi National Wetland Park is West Lake’s quieter, but equally beautiful, sister. This lush, urban wetland that covers more than 2,500 acres was China’s first National Wetland Park, but it dates further back — 1,800 years — to the Han Dynasty. Approximately 70 percent of the park is covered with water.
Once populated by fishermen and silk farmers, the park is now a natural showcase of the combination of urban life, farming and culture. Attractions include former residences and modern museums featuring displays about the daily lives and ancient culture of fishermen and farmers in the area.
Like West Lake, its scenery has been likened to Chinese watercolor and ink paintings. Forests of plum and persimmon trees are softened at the shoreline by feathery reeds. Fishermen and cormorants demonstrate ancient fishing techniques from small wooden boats. Pagodas cast reflections on the water.
I combine land and river routes through the park, first taking a boat and then walking along the causeways and through villages. It becomes hard to tell if the land is surrounded by water, or if the water is surrounded by land. Families drift by in small boats, playing cards, eating lunch, drinking tea and enjoying the scenery.
According to my guide, I’m a few weeks too early for the persimmon festival and a few months too late for the dragon boat festival. My festival timing may be wildly off, but I prefer the peacefulness of the park with its murmured soundtrack of birdsong, the splash of oars, the ripple of wind through the reeds and the quiet chatter of families.
While modern Hangzhou may be leaping into the future, it’s the liquid perspective of the ancient city that provides its strong anchor in the past.