Ape Rifle

As I write these words, a parental unit is currently taking in the glamour of Shanghai. That's right, my mom has arrived for her long-planned China tour. Being the horrible son that I am our contact has remained of the phone variety, despite the fact that China's megalopolis is a mere two-hour bus ride away.

But she's doing fine and sounds like she's having an interesting time exploring the city. Her first impressions seem to be of the common variety: awe at the size, scale and unabashed glass tower glitz of China's biggest city. She's enjoying the lap of luxury at the Peace Hotel on the Bund, although unfortunately it sounds like the "weather" isn't so great (she can't even see Pudong across the river).

One thing my mom mentioned that kind of hit me was that she felt one time in Shanghai would be enough. It's big and exciting, but "it could be absolutely anywhere in the world, almost nothing indicating I'm in China". I'm sure many Chinese people would beam with pride upon hearing such words, but believe it or not some tourists don't fly halfway across the world to eat at Subway. Nevertheless, it sounds like her personal guide is on the ball: she's been to visit some interesting smaller neighbourhoods and parks, as well as the requisite silk and cashmere factories.

After Shanghai, my mom is moving on to Suzhou, Wuhan, a cruise up the Chang Jiang to Chongqing and then a flight back east to meet me here in Hangzhou. I'm guessing the "holy sh*t, I'm in China" shock will hit her somewhere in the countryside between Wuhan and Yichang (those wild central provinces tend to do that to people).

We will have a few days to explore Hangzhou together, and then it's off to Xi'an (which should be great!). From that point on, I've come up with a loose itinerary taking us up through Henan, Shanxi (if we have time) and finally to Beijing from which my mom flies back to Canada. And then I begin my hopelessly ill-conceived trek out to Xinjiang, Gansu and Qinghai.

If anyone has been up through these parts (I'm thinking Zhengzhou, Kaifeng, Luoyang, Pingyao, northern Shanxi), feel free to leave some comments about what we should see/skip/avoid like the plague. I've never been to any of these places (besides a nightmare transit in Zhengzhou), so I'm pretty excited. Oh yeah, and feel free to leave comments with any suggestions/experiences concerning the Northwest, I really have to get on the ball in the planning department.

And, lest you think I forgot, here is today's sarcasm (in picture form no less):

What Chinese people want foreign tourists to see:



What foreign tourists often expect to see:





The happy medium:

The other night, I was told that foreigners are better than Chinese, because they are simple and straightforward while Chinese people are too complex.

Resisting the urge to dive into a heated debate, I instead responded with a smile. I knew the speaker meant no harm and in fact was probably trying to compliment me/"us".

A little while ago, I was reading a rather interesting article on architecture and cultural heritage in China when I came across this sentence:

"Unlike American and European culture, Chinese culture has a very long and mixed history and it will be a complicated and demanding task to set architectural priorities that will ensure the preservation of designs elements that embody the best values of the culture."

Ok, you might be able to get away with saying the Americas don't have a long history (forget about the natives as usual), but Europe? C'mon guys, that is really pushing it. Europe has just as much claim to a long and illustrious history as this fabled land does.

This is a notion I have encountered quite a few times in the past two years: that China is somehow more complex than the rest of the world. Steeped in a strong sense of cultural history, this idea is used to emphasize China's unique position (dare I say superiority) vis a vis the barbarians at the gate. No one can understand China but the Chinese.

Perhaps there is truth to this statement; after two years I'm still often confused at what is happening around me, and why it is happening. But I feel this has more to do with my cultural displacement than any Chinese mystique; if I went to India or Iran for two years, I'm sure the effect would be similar.

I have tried to the best of my abilities to make some sense of this country for my own sake. I'm fiercely interested in politics, economics and other such societal power games, and my current home provide a treasure chest of thinking to do and questions to ponder on these particular topics. I cannot live somewhere for two years and not desperately try and find out what makes the place tick; that's just the way my mind works.

So do I understand China? I won't even try to make such an outlandish claim. But I am comfortable in saying that I understand some things enough to satisfy my own curiosity. I have worked super hard to make some sense out of 1.3 billion people in the throes of reinventing themselves (well, at least in the cities, anyway). And although I might easily be wrong, at least I try.

Therefore statements such as "I like foreigners because they are simple" smack of that cultural superiority I find a bit difficult to stomach. Of course, I take comments like this with a grain of salt, having heard the whole gamut of wild statements concerning foreigners and their homelands. But something about the "simple" comment hit me deeper.

I've been thinking a lot about the face I present to most Chinese people in this country, and have come to the realization it is definitely not my own. My critical thinking, my observations, my interest in societies and their politics; all of them have been heavily edited out to present a rather grotesque "gee whiz" foreigner persona. All my hard-earned thoughts and observations are quickly swept under the carpet before anyone gets wind of the fact that, god forbid, I might think critically about what I see and experience.

How has this happened? Not being able (for obvious reasons) to say what I really think is probably a major factor. Teaching English for two years is another: in Foreign Teacher mode, an invisible switch flips and I become incapable of talking about anything interesting or substantial. I call it the "Who is your favourite pop star?" syndrome.

The simpleton persona gets slightly tested when people start prodding me with questions like "What do you think of China?". However, I resist the temptation to spill my intellectual guts and instead respond with something utterly profound like "it has a lot of people".

I particularly feel for Americans when they must adopt this persona. I have witnessed numerous instances of people forced to smile and cheers while someone feeds them the usual rant about Bush, Iraq and the United States. I'm no fan of the Bush administration, believe me, but I still think there is something wrong with these attacks.
If any real, honest response is given beyond "gee you are right, I hate Bush and my country", then you have trouble.

If a reprisal comment was made concerning the opposing party's leaders, government or country, then possibly all hell would break loose. So the simpleton persona must prevail for survival's sake. No one likes to be a political punching bag, but it's preferable to being a real punching bag. Smile and nod approval. Compliment Chinese culture for some surefire bonus points.

Perhaps many people here are comforted by the idea of foreigners as benign, goofy simpletons, hence the immense popularity of Da Shan. I don't knock Mark Roswell (his real name) at all, because he has simply taken the whole "inoffensive foreigner" bit to it's most logical conclusion: a huge pile of cash. Who knows what his real opinions are, but it definitely wasn't those that made him rich.

Could the real, opinionated me survive as a public face here? I doubt it. I guess two more months of not being able to use chopsticks or know when people are talking about me/what they are saying isn't so bad. I will continue to not be able to read bus stops signs in Chinese (an impossibly complex language), nor buy anything in a supermarket by myself.

I will astound when I announce I can ride a bike, and reassure when I declare China to be a unique mystery impenetrable to the weak foreign mind. I will amuse with my goofy behaviour and my simple outlook on life. I will continue to avoid political discussions by dismissing them as "boring". I will continue to substitute "heavy smog" with "beautiful and clean".

If I've helped some Chinese people feel better about themselves and their country, then I'm glad to have been of assistance. But as my time here nears its end, the act is wearing thin. I have worn my mask in the name of necessity, but retirement from the stage can't come soon enough.

I need some healthy debate.

Once again, the sidewalk digging season is upon us. This urban Chinese rite involves the massive undertaking of digging up and re-tiling/paving/stoning significant sections of a city's pedestrian paths.

When I first arrived in Hangzhou, it was to the chaos of major downtown streets being "re-fitted" for the coming National Day holiday. The great armies of migrant labour had torn up huge stretches of sidewalk all through the center of the city, and the streets were absolute chaos as the hordes of pedestrians were forced on the roads to mingle with the hordes of cars and bikes. Things calmed down during the fall and winter, but seem to be gearing up again with an influx of army fatigues, straw hats and wheelbarrows.

Before sidewalk digging season commences, we all get fair warning: stacks of tiles, bricks and stones starting appearing every few hundred feet along major thoroughfares. This is to signal that, before long, workers will be dismantling your local sidewalk with a pick axe.

These throngs of rural labourers are then faced with an important choice: should I stare at the big-nosed freak trying to navigate the chopped up road, or should I give my attention to the hopelessly attractive urban princess strutting by? For good reason, the local diva usually wins, giving the foreigners the chance to stumble through the rubble relatively unnoticed. Unless he or she trips, then it is open season.

Many of the sites being worked on are the same ones that received facelifts just months ago. Chinese sidewalks just don't last long. These workers seem to be perpetually building/re-building the same stretch.

Some might say it is because of shoddy engineering/workmanship. In some cases, this is true. At my old workplace, workers spent months building a nice tiled sidewalk only to have it completely collapse after the first rain storm.

But I would say it is ,instead, mostly well-planned obsolescence: durability is a luxury China can not often afford. If you build your sidewalks to last, what are you going to do with hundreds of millions of rural labourers? Better to have them do redundant work than stir up shit in the countryside. A similar logic seems to apply in many sectors, especially real estate. If construction of a big apartment complex require hundreds if not thousands of workers, does it really matter if it ends up empty upon completion? When you are trying to manage 1.3 billion people, you have better things to worry about.

In the end, I think the traffic inconvenience is well worth keeping all these people busy and employed. Some people might bitch about the constant noise and dust, but think about it this way: better to have the workers laying the stone slabs down than throwing them at you.


Sidewalk Warriors


After the Battle

I look at these maps and realize I have seen pathetically little of my own country.


CHINA



USA



CANADA



FRANCE

note: the France map is probably the least accurate, as I'm basing
it on memories spanning multiple trips between 1991 and 1997. I've tried to indicate general regions visited more than actual routes taken (although I'm likely forgetting some places).


UK

The title of this story alone merits it a very high rank in the "What planet are you living on??" category.

I've been trying very hard to be more positive recently, but you still have to call ridiculous when you see it.


Hint: that's not fog.

Part 2

January 2004
Lijiang, Yunnan Province

Travelling in the Southwest, you invariably come across a lot of places catering to foreign backpackers. Towns like Yangshuo, Dali and Jinghong are full of small funky cafes and restaurants serving decidedly non-Chinese food and playing decidedly non-Chinese music.
Lijiang is no different: this stunning little town is home to a multitude of family-run holes in the wall, really comfy spots to kick back and hide from the travelling life.

After spending some time around these places, you realize that the nightlife scene is decidedly atypical of the usual foreigner-fueled messes. Rather than getting all raucous and crazy, people have long conversations over beers with fellow travellers they have never seen before and will probably never see again. The drinking is a decidedly sit-down and relax affair. The music is usually enjoyable, not destroying your ears.

So after dark, places like Lijiang tend to be super tame. The backpacker places cater to a quieter crowd, and it's a rather welcome break from the usual bar madness of Eastern China.

I was in Lijiang just before Spring Festival with my sister Juliana (visiting from New York) and Justin (fellow teacher in Hangzhou from the States). On my sister and mine's last night in town, we went to one of the usual "minority motif" cafes and proceeded to stuff our faces on all sorts of food. During the meal, the cheap beer also started to flow a bit more than it had up to then on the trip.

Hoping for a mini night out, we debated whether to stay at our current locale or move on to find another place or, gasp, an actual bar. During the meal we had noticed that waitresses were walking in and out the door with food and alcohol at regular intervals. I'm not sure who told us, but we found out that the establishment was divided into two, one part restaurant and one part "bar" a few doors down the street.

So we moved a few doors down the street. I expected to find a similar decor and clientele, just minus the eating. How wrong I was.

The only way to describe the bar's state when we arrived is with the words 'completely out of control'. It was absolutely rammed with young and middle-aged Chinese people wearing cowboy hats, and a select elite were dancing on their tables to pounding 80s tunes. Alcohol was all over the place, more often than not flying out of glasses. Tables were completely covered in ashes, peanuts, dice and empty beers/pitchers/wine bottles. I was back on the East Coast!

Obviously, we made our way in and joined the festivities. Courtesy of Juliana being a Caucasian female, we immediately attracted attention to ourselves. We quickly made friends and drinking buddies. It turns out that almost everyone crashing around in the bar was from the same company, in Lijiang for some sales department conference. I'm still not sure why they were all wearing cowboy hats and sunglasses, but I guess that was their meeting's theme or something.

They were rip-roaring drunk and loving it. Between the messy gan beis and people getting pulled up to dance in the mass of bodies, we got a bit of their story. Most of them were from Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou (predictable given the nature of China's economy).
They had come from across the country to meet in Lijiang and, well, get absolutely shitfaced wearing cowboy hats. That's my kind of corporation.

We decided one of the guys looked like Yao Ming, even though in retrospect I don't think he did at all. Yao Ming was one of the younger people there, and he kept telling us how much he could drink. Not too long after those boasts, he was seen passed out across a few chairs.

One of the women present was apparently everyone's girlfriend. When we talked with some of the guys, they would turn around and say "look, she's my girlfriend". She was easily the most attractive woman in there, but strangely enough at the end of the night she was seen heavily flirting with a man who was not among those claiming her. I guess the other were just jealous or something (perhaps inebriated).

One guy busted out some cigars for us. There was some initial confusion over which end we were supposed to light. He assured us he knew and lit them up. He stumbled off, and both Justin and I realized that our cigars weren't doing so well. We keep trying to light them, but to no avail. Sure enough, they guy came stumbling back and told us he had lit the wrong end. Soon after that, he was destroying us with shots of wine (what a wonderful idea at that point in time).

Meanwhile, I think Juliana was completely surrounded by Chinese men. If I remember correctly she gots business cards and offers of places to stay in various cities, even though I'm sure she made it clear she was leaving China in the next few days. The Shanghai guys were the most tenacious.

The night ended with the bar a complete mess and half of Yunnan run dry. Remind me to work for a Chinese company in the future.


Working hard


Juliana (with Yao Ming coming up behind her)


Justin enjoys the show

It seems that more and more professors/officials at my university are joining in on the Chinese automotive dream. You see the Audis and the Boras, the Accords and the Buicks. I often see cars from my apartment complex parked on campus during the daytime, especially the noticeable ones like that little lime green Golf. I guess more and more teachers are commuting to work from their homes by automobile.

Why does this seem strange? Well, maybe I should mention that our apartment complex is ACROSS THE STREET from the university campus. At first, I couldn't believe it: were these people really just driving across the street everyday?

This afternoon, I finally witnessed the insanity. As I was leaving my complex for my ten minute walk to class, a white Volks came out right behind me. Sure enough, it drove about 100 metres down the road and turned left through the university's main gate. I couldn't believe it. Some people apparently do drive across the street to work.

I guess this is what happens when cars are perceived as face accessories rather than mere transportation. Oh, won't the coming energy wars be glorious.

Part 1

Late June/early July 2003
Zibo, Shandong Province

In the heyday of SARS panic, I was left with a whole lot of free time on my hands. My already light teaching schedule was further reduced to only 8 hours a week, the local middle schools having cancelled our classes to hide from the dreaded virus. The foreign teachers were mostly confined to the university campus, and this led to definite cases of cabin fever. We played lots of volleyball and held raucous keggers in the "Foreign Building" where we all lived (yes, hallway bowling with plastic ball and pins was a highlight).

As SARS mania eased gradually with the arrival of summer, it was easier and easier to get off campus. I decided I was going to start biking...a lot. Zibo was rather ideal for this: the terrain was completely flat, the roads were very wide and the traffic was nowhere near as suicidal as Hangzhou.

Zibo itself is less a city than a huge county; in fact, it can often take almost one hour to drive from one "district" to another. It works on a spoke-and-wheel model: Zhangdian is the central and largest district with a few hundred thousand people (and lots of tall white-tile buildings). Spread around this urban core are various satellite "districts", some of them no more than oversized villages (and others no less than industrial nightmares). Between all the districts are country-like highways and vast tracts of farmland.

The university campus was located right on the western edge of Zhangdian, with farmland for several miles between it and the next district, Zhoucun. The road leading West was straight and flat, a rather uneventful ride. Although my bike was hardly ideal for this sort of trekking (think uncomfortable seat), I made the trip several times with fellow teachers just to do something a little different.

Along this route was a massive barbecue restaurant set up in a field just off the road. It was outdoor seating only; maybe one hundred low tables, the ones where you really have to crouch down low to sit on a tiny fold-out chair. Each table had its own barbecue "pit", and the restaurant owners must have had their own giant pit nearby because it often seemed as if half the farm was on fire.

This was not a place you came to be seen; the bathrooms were holes in the ground, the kind where you stumble around in the dark praying you aren't about to put your foot somewhere it shouldn't be. Basically, you were dining on someone's farm.

Nevertheless, the place's popularity with the locals was evident. The dirt road off the highway was kept constantly buzzing by the arriving Santanas and Chang An minivans.

People came here in big groups to laugh, smoke, roll up their shirts and drink liters of cheap beer. At the end of the night, the general debris scattered around the area was rather unbelievable. I don't even think Woodstock got it so bad. In this setting, choking on barbecue smoke, we would gorge ourselves on various meat kabobs and order way too many bottles of beer.

This place is one of my fondest memories of Zibo: an ideal manifestation of the unpretentious and down-to-earth attitude of a mid-sized industrial city in Northern China.

On one particular night, an hour or so into the festivities, we got invited over to a table by some soldiers. They were young and outgoing, but conspicuously still in their uniforms. As per the norm, lots of toasting and broken conversation. Their commanding officer steadfastly refused whenever I tried to take a picture of their group, saying it was not proper because they were in uniform. Even when he was undershirt-only about ten minutes later, still no pictures.

Invariably, things got a bit strange. The young soldiers were very hospitable and fun, but the older officer kept pulling each foreign teacher aside to talk more seriously. Luckily my Chinese was absolutely horrible back then, so I could quickly claim confusion and excuse myself to regain the main group's festivities.

Apparently he told one teacher we were spies or something, and said something to another one of the teachers that troubled her enough that she decided she was leaving. If fact, she just took off rather upset. Realizing something was amiss, the other soldiers apologized. Beers were finished, goodbyes were made, and we chased off after our friend.

A few hundred metres down the road on our bikes, we realized that we had not paid our bill. Considering the amount of meat and beer consumed, it was bound to be substantial. Two of us rushed back and found the boss, who by that time was surveying the Armageddon scene his field had become.

He had seen our friend get upset and take off, and steadfastly refused to accept our money. We kept telling him to take it, but he just wouldn't and kept apologizing for what had happened. I think he also started apologizing for his guest's behaviour. The 120 RMB or so got written off, and he told us to come back anytime.

And so we biked home along the two-lane highway that joins Zhoucun and Zibo, by this time plunged into bug-inhabited darkness. We raced each other, hitting huge potholes in the bike lane and laughing the whole way. Our companions on the road were blue flatbed trucks and rumbling old harvesters, both mainstays of the Shandong countryside. At one point I raced alongside one of them, egging on the driver to get his engine cranked and show this dumb laowai who was boss.

Unfortunately for him, I could actually bike faster than his harvester motor could chug. How do you tell your friends you were passed by a drunk foreigner on a one-speed bike? I dared not race the blue trucks, however, because everyone knows they are sacred and untouchable.

The next time I went down that road was in a taxi a short while later, on my way to the Jinan airport and onwards to Beijing and Canada. I passed the barbecue place (not very active at the crack of dawn) and couldn't help but laugh.

Since coming to Hangzhou I haven't really looked back, but damned if I don't miss those Northern countryside summer nights.

Russia:
This is the country to hold up constantly as an example of the dreaded "instability". Everyone knows that life in Russia is a living hell, and that everything has gone wrong since 1991. They made the horrible mistake of actually admitting their ideology was outdated and decrepit, and look what happened to them. Maybe if those crazy Russians hadn't knocked over all those statues, their economy would currently be booming. But no, they got "instability" and "social unrest" instead. However, they have huge energy clout and some firepower to spare, so we should still be nice to them.

If you are unsure of a person's ethnicity or nationality, categorize them as Russian, especially women in the Northern regions.

United States of America:
Here we have the most powerful nation on earth. You should hate it, envy and adore it all at the same time. They do everything wrong and endanger the whole planet with their wasteful lifestyle and aggressive arrogance, yet we should like nothing more than to be exactly like them. The only road to power is to imitate the powerful (unless the highway is clogged with private cars, then the road is useless).

To properly insult an American, you must be attired in baggy blue jeans, an NBA t-shirt and a MLB team hat. Then, in your American-accented English (that you tried so hard to perfect), you can proceed to inform the American that his/her culture is garbage. Afterwards, it is advisable to go brag to your buddies about it over burgers at McDonald's.

If you are unsure of a person's ethnicity or nationality, categorize them as American, especially if they have blond hair and blue eyes.
Make sure to tell the about the war in Iraq.

United Kingdom:
Not as much is known about this land, besides the fact that the British invented English (and the accent is far inferior to the American one). Oh, and something about the Premier league too.

London is always foggy, so you must carry an umbrella and wear a bowler hat at all times. English men are all gentlemen, and the gas lamps are particularly beautiful at night. If you get lost, call Sherlock Holmes and he will arrange for a horse carriage to pick you up and take you back to your inn.

If you are unsure of a person's ethnicity or nationality, categorize them as English (especially the Irish, they love that) and tell them they look like David Beckham.

Canada:

Developed. Cold. Beautiful and clean. Somewhere to go while waiting to get into the United States.

If you are unsure of a person's ethnicity or nationality, tell them they don't look Canadian. Make sure to ask about Bethune and Da Shan.

Australia:

Developed. Beautiful and clean. A good place to study.

If you think the person might be Canadian, inform them that is not possible. They are Australian. Disregard accent discrepancy as needed.

India:

Hopelessly undeveloped, can never catch up because of the "social unrest" and "instability".

If you think a person might be brown, inform them they are Indian. Disregard nationality indicated in passport as needed.

Thailand: Tour group package on sale now.

Europe: Despite being developed, they are not modern because they have too many old buildings.

If you think someone is European, tell them they are French, and thus romantic. Disregard native language as needed.

Rest of World (ROW): Of little importance, really. Not very modern. Eats strange things and wears strange clothes.

I don't know if I'm going crazy, but Wham's "Careless Whisper" seems to have invaded this fair land. Be it on a train from Shandong to Shanghai, in a Hangzhou shopping mall or in a neighbourhood bar, the 80s blast from the UK past is in full force. I'm never going to dance again, guilty feet have got no rythm...


Wham sports the latest styles

Various media outlets have recently been abuzz with talk China's economy. The word of the day seems to be "overheating", following closely by the words "out of control investment". I'm not one to obsess over economic indicators, but I find it amazing how China's out-of-control growth is so, well, glaringly apparent in everyday life.

Riding on Hangzhou's elevated highway, looking out on the cityscape is rather mind boggling. Before your eyes unfolds an endless tableau of cranes and green scaffolding. But perhaps the scariest thing is the scale these projects. Gargantuan is the only word to describe them. Some buildings under construction seem ready to accomodate all of Hangzhou's citizens in one single highrise. Other developers have their own particular logic: why build one tower when you can build fifteen all at the same time?

Across the Qian Tang River, Hangzhou seems to be building a whole new city. You've got the usual several dozen towers all going up, not to mention some massive stadium/convention hall/space station. Despite talk of the central government reining in out-of-control loans in the real estate sector, I see little evidence of this on the streets. If a city block doesn't already have a hulking tower under construction on it, then it is a demolished lot about to have a hulking tower under construction on it. Sometimes I wonder if there are more cranes in China than people.

So amidst all this talk of bubbles and overheating, I am a bit worried. Unlike other less material forms of investment, gigantic real estate projects leave pretty permanent monuments to economic folly. But it's fairly obvious that caution is not of much concern in these parts: the instant cities continue to rise up unabated, skyscraper cluster by skyscraper cluster. If the real estate frenzy is a sign of China's economic health, we might be in for some trouble. I for one hope they find enough people who can afford these places, because no one benefits from a city of white elephants.


Big enough to be a fortress


You know what would look great on the riverbank? A new city!


Goodbye, arable land


Not to be left out, my neighbourhood gets in on the action

For the May Day holiday this week, I decided it would be best to just stick around Hangzhou. Being one who is slightly put off by these travel periods in China when surging crowds do fierce battle across all modes of transportation, I figured I'd just put the money towards summer plans. Besides, I already live in one of the country's top tourist destinations so I don't have to go very far to see what the fuss is all about.

Yesterday's weather was glorious, with blue skies and sunshine complimented by a temperature that was just right. So after lunch I decided to lose myself in the city, to just start wandering aimlessly with my trusty camera in hand. The Grand Canal is just a few blocks west of my apartment, so I figured I'd follow it north and see where that took me.

Why north? Well, about 10-15 minutes south of my apartment complex begins the downtown core of Hangzhou, with all the reflective glass towers, shopping malls and overpriced Western food one could possibly desire. And thanks to the West Lake, this area is also currently rammed with floods of tourists. I've been down that way countless times, but yesterday I was in the mood for something different. Even a city buff like myself can only take so many pictures of hastily-built highrises.

What I found up there pleasantly surprised me. First and foremost, the area is green. Really green. Along the banks of the canal run incredibly peaceful footpaths surrounded by lush vegetation. Many of the streets have yet to be given the modernization treatment, and that means they are shaded by beautiful huge old trees. Everyone seemed to be sitting around outside chatting or playing cards, giving the area one of the most laidback vibes I have felt in China. It has the feel of a real street neighbourhood, its relative obscurity saving it from the fierce traffic snarls of the city core. Somehow, this seemed more like the Hangzhou everyone described to me before I moved here.

The first part of my walk took me through perhaps the most familiar urban scene in China, consisting of buzzing neighbourhood streets lined with the patented six-storey apartment block complexes. Thankfully though, many of these concrete monstrosities are painted rather bright colours around here, minimizing their dreary appearance. But as I moved further north things quickly got poorer and more destitute. What's this, poverty in Hangzhou? Impossible!

Hangzhou's glitzy highrise trend hasn't really made it here yet, so it feels more like a large cluster of villages that eventually grew and smashed into each other. Lots of old homes, shanty-town style huts, crumbling communist area blocks and narrow little streets. But, of course, it wouldn't be China if some developer didn't try to stick a luxury condo project right in the middle of all of it. Prime real estate like this won't stay in the hands of the masses for long.

It's a bit of an eye-opener to see this sort of living so close to Hangzhou's core. The way many people talk about China's development these days, you would think the whole east coast has become New York while the rest of the country wallows in the Dark Ages. However, even in these "rich" coastal provinces it doesn't take going very far outside a city's center to see miles of decidedly third world settlements. But then again no self-respecting West Lake tour groups would be caught dead anywhere near here. Too bad for them, they are missing some beautiful parks and canal scenery.

In all, this day of sunshine, lush foliage and relaxing streets put a great face on Hangzhou.


hangzhou really does have a lot of canals


The Grand Canal


Hangzhou: Green City?


On one side of a bridge...


...on the other side of the same bridge. No joke.


Casual street scene

Due to the fact that I am running out of the space so generously provided by Mr. Pasden over at Sinosplice, I've done a little site maintenance. All the photos previously complementing my Spring Festival '04 travel posts have moved over to my Yahoo Photos site. If you missed them the first time around, feel free to go take a look.