Power and the glory
'Above there is heaven, below there is Suzhou and Hangzhou.' The saying, crafted by a poet several centuries ago, seems to hold true, at least in Hangzhou; according to a poll conducted recently by Oriental Outlook magazine, the capital of Zhejiang province is the happiest mainland city in which to live.
What is the secret of these two cities? Situated about 100km from each other in the richly fertile Yangtze River delta, on the Grand Canal connecting them to Beijing, they were once wealthy trading centres, reaching their zenith of influence and opulence during the Southern Song dynasty (1127-1279).
Hangzhou was the dynastic capital and possibly the largest - thought to have had between 1 million and 1.5 million inhabitants - and finest city in the world. Even the great cities of Cairo and Constantinople fell short, and Rome, Paris and London were inconsequential. China was the planet's pre-eminent country and Hangzhou was its showpiece.
Marco Polo confirms this. The Venetian merchant-traveller visited Hangzhou at the height of its glory, in the late 13th century, calling it 'the City of Heaven, the most beautiful and magnificent in the world'. He marvelled at its '10,000 bridges', '10 principal squares or marketplaces', countless 'high dwelling-houses' and its people, 'always clothed in silk, in consequence of the vast quantity of that material produced [there]'.
Today, Suzhou, while retaining its exquisite enclosed gardens, is a workaday city dwarfed by its giant neighbour, Shanghai. Hangzhou, however, lying to the south, holds its head up high as a prosperous modern city of some 4 million souls. Its uniquely poetic landscape and profound historical resonance make it the top destination of the mainland tourist.
Once in the city, though, tourists can't wait to get out; next to the central business district stretches a great expanse of placid water ringed by an extraordinary array of classic Chinese gardens and framed by mountains. Visitors walk among shiny new department stores then suddenly find themselves in serene willow-pattern land. Just as in Marco Polo's day, 'the lake extends the whole length of the city, on one side'. Hangzhou has no western suburbs; instead, it has the West Lake, or Xi Hu.
Arched bridges and angular trees, limpid waters and curved-roof tea houses create a classic Chinese vision of beauty, inspired by the Taoist concept of harmony and created by the emperors and mandarins for their own pleasure. This elite gave poetic names to salient features: Melting Snow at Broken Bridge, Autumn Moon on Calm Lake, Three Pools Mirroring the Moon, Kingdom of the Joyful Fish, Viewing Fish at Flower Harbour, Sunset Glow over Lei Hill, Orioles Singing in Ripples of Willows. Appearing on prettily designed visitors' maps, the nomenclature beats anything the tourist board's advertising agency could come up with, but are the places as enchanting as their names?
At the downtown shore, a new flagstoned promenade edges the water, shaded by weeping willows. Paths wind through gardens featuring delicate-leaved trees of every shape and shade, and stone 'sculptures' formed by nature's wild imagination. Well-made footpaths continue all around the lake, with atmospheric rest-stops provided by teahouses in traditional wooden pavilions, offering China's finest green teas. On the north and west sides, long causeways stretch through the lake, connecting little islands, crossing humpback bridges and passing the profusions of giant lotus leaves afloat on the water.
An extraordinary concentration of gardens - enough to grace a dozen cities - ring the 3km-wide lake. Each season brings its own beauty: cherry blossoms in spring, the golden sunsets of summer, the russet leaves of autumn, a soft mantle of snow in winter.
'There are upon the lake a great number of pleasure vessels,' Marco Polo wrote, and so it is today. Some are elaborate floating restaurants, just as they were in the 13th century. 'All parts of the vessel are adorned with painting. There are windows on each side ... to give an opportunity to the company, as they sit at table, of looking out in every direction and feasting on the variety and beauty of the scenes as they pass them.'
To the south, beyond the lake shore, rise hills blanketed with tea plantations. China's most-prized tea grows here, around the village of Longjing (Dragon's Well).
Mountains loom to the west of the city and in their foothills stands one of China's greatest and most hallowed Buddhist temples. Climbing majestically upwards amid bamboo forest, Lingyin Si (the Temple of the Soul's Retreat) comprises a series of large worship halls, whose curved tiled roofs with dragon finials are supported by huge wooden pillars. Inside sit enormous Buddha images. The most beautiful one is a nine-metre-high figure composed of 24 massive pieces of camphor wood covered in gold leaf, housed in the 34-metre high Hall of the Great Hero.
For the continued existence of this wonderful expression of faith, we have Zhou Enlai to thank. During the Cultural Revolution, China's premier expressly protected Lingyin Si from the ravages of the Red Guards. In recent years, further exemplifying the paradox that is China, the communist regime has expended great effort on renovating the whole complex, so all its facets are now in superb condition. There are few sights in all China of such religious grandeur and Lingyin Si is rightly a place of pilgrimage for the Chinese, Buddhist or otherwise.
Marco Polo would recognise modern Hangzhou but he would, of course, see changes. 'On [the city] side [of the lake], you have a view of all its grandeur and beauty, its palaces, temples, convents and gardens, with trees of the largest size growing down to the water's edge,' he wrote. Today he would have a view of all its ambition and modernity, its grand hotels, multilevel shopping malls, conference centres and fine-dining restaurants.
Hangzhou is once more a place of indulgence, business and trade; the rightful heir to the luxury-loving medieval capital of the Southern Song dynasty.
