Once Upon a Hangzhou Time

One negotiates a curve, turns upwards, the path narrows and then widens into a plain. It is then that you see it. It does not overwhelm at first. It shyly announced itself, like a bride. The West Lake in Hangzhou, where travel means to embrace it. Of all places I have traveled to, remember or hope to travel, the beauty of Hangzhou seeps in with its viscous moistness into your mind. In Spring, even more delightfully so. The lake is laced with tenderest greens of weeping willows, magnolias, oaks, bleeding red flowers, shock of pink here and a quieter white there. To love the lake is to walk around it, as in worship. So we did. Walk and walk around. At each turn, one comes upon a Sung dynasty building, with circular arches, peaked domes with its granite in determined contrast to the vivacity of the spring flowers around. A gentle mist sinks down and Chinese poetry comes to mind, and one wonders at the futility of the English language. All across the vast lake are several islands and the most impressive is the Solitary Island, with even more magical forest trees, walkways, brooks and bridges. Poetry is the only vehicle and several Chinese poets lived in Hangzhou. Lin Bu was one who lived in seclusion on the Solitary Island, with plum blossoms and cranes for company. A painting of Lin Bu by Du Jin has an an inscription:

Leisurely walking with the moon,

both my stick and my shoes are slow;

It is particularly suited for my half-awakened mood.

Finishing a verse on the sparse shadow and the cool fragrance,

I would like to know if the plum blossoms will understand.

Lin Bu goes on to share his moments with Hangzhou and plum blossoms centuries later in a song:

How Plum Flowers Embarrass a Garden

When everything has faded they alone shine forth

encroaching on the charms of smaller gardens

their scattered shadows fall lightly on clear water

their subtle scent pervades the moonlit dusk

snowbirds look again before they land

butterflies would faint if they but knew

thankfully I can flirt in whispered verse

I don't need a sounding board or wine cup

(Source : http://www.silkqin.com/02qnpu/16xltq/xl048msy.htm)

It is the primacy of nature, the generous alleys that man can walk through, peaks of tea houses and now cafes, its dream like sequences that would make me come back again and again.