Ancient Hangzhou embraces its future
Cultural center that bewitched Marco Polo is evolving into Chinese powerhouse where rich history mingles with high-tech ambitions
The silver water of West Lake is a skin of wrinkled aluminum foil. Lush green hills that surround the lake on three sides are partially obscured by mist, some of which makes its way to where I stand, in front of a flotilla of small, wooden boats awaiting their morning passengers. An artist, with easel and paints, blends colors from gray to green to pink.
“Watercolor,” he says with a smile when he notices me brushing the mist off my jacket. He mimes catching the drops to add to his paint.
The former capital of the Southern Song Dynasty, Hangzhou counts itself among the seven ancient capitals of China. Known as the City of Heaven, it was visited in the 13th century by Marco Polo (he referred to it as Kinsay in his writings), who called it “beyond dispute the finest and noblest in the world.”
Even after the peak of the city’s dynastic importance, it became wealthy as the center of a fertile rice-growing area and the site of the most important silk industries in China. It’s also been long famous as a center of culture, where mountain-fringed West Lake vistas with gardens, pagodas, pavilions and temples have inspired Chinese artists, poets and philosophers since the Tang Dynasty — long before its elevation to a capital city.
But today’s Hangzhou is far from a picture of the past. While the West Lake cultural landscape coupled with treasured tea villages and the western wetlands (preserved as Xixi National Wetland Park) carry the classic city into the present, Hangzhou is one of the most dynamic cities in China. It’s an emerging technology hub (home to e-commerce giant Alibaba), hosted the 11th G-20 summit in 2016, and will host the 2022 Asian Games — the third Chinese city to do so.
It’s a place that, like watercolor, expertly blends the dreamy panoramas of mist-covered hills and willow-lined West Lake banks with Tesla dealerships and bookstores laden with optical illusions.
Even a light rain doesn’t keep nature lovers from West Lake. It’s early morning, and the gentle flowing movements of lakeside tai chi practitioners are mirrored by boats slowly sweeping across the water. The bright colors of umbrellas are echoed in the flowers: camellia, hibiscus, lotus, chrysanthemum and the fragrant yellow clusters on the osmanthus trees — Hangzhou’s city flower.
The mist enveloping the nearby mountains almost makes the lake seem more intimate, as if the protective cloak brings everything closer, within reach.
The lake itself, about 10 miles in circumference, was originally a lagoon until it emerged from repeated dredging in the eighth century. As time passed, two causeways and three islands were constructed from dredged silt, and the remaining elements of the lake’s splendor — bridges, gardens, pagodas — were gradually added.
Since the Southern Song Dynasty, 10 poetically named scenic places have been identified as embodying classic landscapes. Most can be seen on foot, but Three Pools Mirroring the Moon, whose image is printed on the oneyuan banknote, is best seen by boat. My seat in a small rowboat is protected from the occasional drizzle by a canopy, and my guide, who rows with one hand (the other holds his cigarette), assures me we can see most of them during our time on the water.
The challenge is that some of the places are time-specific, and even if you’re a very organized traveler, you won’t see everything at the time of day 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 cor-
The mist enveloping the nearby mountains almost makes West Lake seem more intimate.
morants 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.