Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
We had an incredible day, exploring the smalls lanes of the northeastern corner of the rectangular canal system that encapsualtes old Suzhou. We disembarked from the glitteringly-modern subway system and headed north along a street without any tourist frills - indeed it seemed like a street from a film set in the era before 'Nixon went to China', with small shops selling chicken feet and dumplings, locals making charcoal, a few tractors piling garbage into a hole in the wall. Each journey out into the city takes us further from the peaceful haven of our apartment, into the milling hordes of eyes watching, curious, expectant in focused pairs. After pushing up this cobbled lane we found our first garden by chance, called the 'Couple's Retreat', a UNESCO World Heritage Site encompassing a spit of land running parallel to the eastern border-canal of the old city. The irony of the garden's name was not lost on us. Inside, we were treated to a masterful composition of elements that, viewed from any angle, embodied the full richness and beauty of Chinese garden aesthetics. A dozen or so courtyards, yawning at the sky to varying degrees depending on their sizes, which varied from the area of our bathroom to that of a basketball court, perforated by circular doors and windows latticed with stonework in an endless variety of designs, and centered around rock formations like sand castles half-deteriorated by the elements. These open spaces were seperated by traditional buildings full of antique furniture and cursive calligraphy, silk screen hangings and miniature landscapes called penjing, and each house held a name based on some well-known poem of the Song Dynasty, or were called the 'moon-viewing room' or the 'daoism practice room' or the 'lost inkslab room', holding legends within their quiet, gloomy spaces. An interesting note was the way a group of Chinese toursists filed along behind their flag-hoisting guide, who announced the facts of the sacred space in loud Mandarin over a megaphone. The shattered quiet repaired itself as soon as they had made their obligatory circuit, and the last we saw of them were the flashes of their cameras as they trailed away, outside the ancient wall. We whiled away a few hours in the beautiful place, watching the small grey fish in the pond rise for insects, watching the bamboo leaves brush against the stylized eves of the buildings, watching a couple dressed up in traditional kit photo-pose in many stances, from many angles. Then we headed north to the Suzhou Zoo. We stopped on a bench on the way for a snack, by a bulge in the canal that widened it into a lake, full of Chinese tourists in tiny boats putting around in circles. As we ate, first five, then ten, then twenty, and then even more Chinese people with children stopped to talk with us, wave at our kids, take pictures with us, or just simply stop and stare with mouths half opened and bemused expressions on their faces. We conversed in our half-Mandarin and laughed at the growing crowd, which was not the first such we had experienced. In fact, whenever we stop on any busy thoroughfare the group tends to grow around us, a gradual accumulation that seems inevitable, and this was simply the largest of such groups to have occured. After talking and taking pictures and eating our banana chips, we started to feel a bit claustrophobic by the gathered masses and decided it was best to move on. We got to the Zoo during the hottest part of the day, giving the kids a chance to see Zebras, Bears, and a pacing Tiger that came within an inch of Soph's and Jack's face. This made quite an impression on our babies' conciousness, as Soph was still talking about the beautiful cat when we put her to sleep that night. The heat kept many of the animals inside their dark rooms at the back of their encolsures: the giraffe was a long neck seen through a window. Once we had finished our rounds we strolled the stroller west along a tree-lined lane toward the heart of downtown, passing numerous shops with puppies in cages out front, before turning south along a cobbled path. We stopped to eat at a place with an empty porch overlooking a slender canal and ate paninis as we listened to the boatmen plying their craft-loads of tourists, shifting their bamboo poles back and forth through the water and singing folk songs. Enjoying the relative silence, we noticed that through the dense stonework grille of the small window that let in tiny fractions of a view onto the lane beyond the wall, Chinese people were still managing to discover us and take our picture. After a good laugh and with empty plates, we returned to the subway and took the train home.
- comments
Sara Marston The rockery may be slippery! I love it. Miss you guys. I cannot wait to come visit. Love, Sara