[In continuation of Chronicles of the Middle Kingdom [Part - II]]
A vacation within a vacation, is reason to rejoice twice, right? Especially when you unexpectedly find yourself in the midst of dramatic scenery (unexpectedly, because you expect it to be comparable a tourist city in India, and it completely exceeds all your expectations.)
So, yes, Hangzhou was divine. Marco Polo was here; and he called it the "City of Heaven". How could I have not known of its existence till just about a week back?! And yet, here I was, owing to certain unexpected turn of events, which made me join the girls on this trip at the last moment. Sweet serendipity.
Being in Hangzhou was like little packages of pleasant surprises being delivered to you, one at a time. Every next thing - a delightful discovery; every stage - a turn up for the book. Historically, the city has been one of the most important trade zones on the Yangtse river delta. It lies cradled among hills and the majestic West Lake, which was recently made a UNESCO World Heritage Site. UNESCO describes it as having "influenced garden design in the rest of China as well as Japan and Korea over the centuries," and reflecting "an idealized fusion between humans and nature." Now, now, you just have to be there to understand what that meant. And I'm already feeling all "holier-than-thou" about it, since I was there, and you weren't! Seriously though, it wasn't just the sight-seeing at Hangzhou that makes it so special to my heart. A person's kinship to a place is usually a function of his/her experiences therein and the people who keep you company. I definitely had the best company possible. And so far as memorable, delightful experiences are concerned, Hangzhou was, in Naj's words - "like the little cherry, on top of the regular cherry, on top of the sundae of awesomeness!". Cheesy, innit? Oh, but it was!
We arrived at the Ming Town International Hostel at around 5 p.m., from the airport. It is located in the city centre and yet next to the Lake itself, but then again, in Hangzhou, nothing ever is too far from the Lake. I like backpacking-hostels. I wish we had more of these in India. The rates are lesser than half the price of hotels. You get to share your dorms with other people and therefore there's a much higher chance of making new friends. Our room, which had two bunk beds and could accommodate four people in all, was clean and had a view of a cafeteria below. We shared it with another Chinese girl from Beijing. What I found most exciting though, was that the wooden roof had a little sunscreen, which could be uncovered for some direct sunlight or a sight of the stars above, at night. Needless to say, we hardly spent any nights in the hostel, so that never came much to our use. But imagine living in a little wooden cabin, where you sleep on the top bunk of a bed, and you can touch the sloping wooden roof and uncover a little piece of the sky all to yourself while you slip lucidly into dreamworld!
We did not slip into the dreamworld though. Instead, we slipped straight into our Explorer-Mode. There was an equitable, skill-based, division of labour. Carole, with her superior Chinese-speaking skills and her even more superior map-reading skills, was designated the "Destination-cum-Tour Guide". Naj with her superior photo-clicking skills and her even more superior skill of bargaining with the Chinese, in Chinese, got to be the "Photographer-cum-Shopping Guide". And yours truly, with her superior posing skills and even more superior parasitic skills of getting by with a little help from her friends, became the "Poser-cum-Tourist". (Although, I must tell you that my "party-starting" skills came in quite handy during the trip.)
We got out on the streets in the dusk. Carole, her head buried in the guide book, would point to a direction, and say "go" and we went. Naj, after every few meters, would say "pose" and we posed. And I, well, I just went and I posed. Then, God decided to make things a little more interesting, and a Chinese man on a moped, crashed straight into Naju while she was crossing a main road. The man's moped toppled, he fell off on the street, quickly straightened his hat, grabbed his bike and left in a jiffy, seemingly embarrassed, but without saying sorry. While my lady stood there, not having dodged even a millimeter from the spot where the moped had crashed into her, wearing her high heeled boots and with that hugeass camera dangling from her neck, looking somewhat like a superwoman. "How did you manage to do that!?" She shrugged. That - was a scene straight out of a Chinese comedy film - if you know what I mean.
Hefang Street, our first tourist destination, is a mela of sorts. Quaint shops sell variegated artifacts from far-off lands and of course, from China. Ethereal Chinese calligraphy on delicate parchments; motley opera masks; African Djembe; Bohemian dirndls and paintings of Indian deities - Hangzhou definitely lived up to its reputation of a major ancient trade centre of China. On Hefang Street, artists, buskers, juggles, milliners, painters, crystal workers, confectioners abound. Here, a man gingerly implanted a ship into a glass bottle while the onlookers held their breath; there, another, crafted a crystal palace straight out of a fairytale. Some displayed the Celestial Guardians of Feng Shui carved in Jade. The Dragon - its gaping mouth breathing out the life-force Chi; the Tortoise - harbinger of long life and health; the Laughing Buddha - epitome of prosperity and happiness; the Jade Family Balls - mystical inveigler of love, preserver of generations. A giant golden Laughing Buddha sits fat in the middle of Hefang street, its belly pregnant with good cheer, ready to be fondled by one and all. In the middle of all this, a little girl sat drawing on her sketch book. And thank God for that - to be surrounded with so much art and yet not to be drawn into inspiration would be a shame.
We munched on some chestnuts, then some peanut and sesame brittles fresh off the oven and then Carole directed us to the food-street, a narrow go-between a little off the Hefang Street, which serves people's taste for the exotic and the bizarre. The problem was that I could not understand what most of the items on display really were, since when asked we were told only their Chinese names, and neither of us could translate them into English. What looked like a curious case of fried worms on a stick, turned out to be merely octopus tentacles. I developed quite a taste for them though. Crabs were the second best of them all, crisp on the outside with subtle seasoning and soft and pulpy within. Dinner later at a recommended restaurant at Hefang Street was pretty uneventful as compared to the food-adventure at the food-street.
After the dinner, we went for a walk to the lake. Cities settled around a lake develop a distinctly peaceful culture - the calmness and placidity of still waters seems to permeate into the daily lives of people. The boulevards around the West Lake are dotted with shady trees, little benches and pedestals. In the stillness of the night the distant Leifeng Pagoda, shone brightly among the hills. I could think of nothing merrier than breaking out into my favourite girl-vacation song: "I have never dreamed it, have you ever dreamed a night like this?"
And just like that, a-night-like-this ended with some drinks at the Night & Day Bar and some live music. And three very happy girls went to bed in a little wooden cabin dreaming of a new day with new adventures.
Early next morning we set out vagabonding once again. The city looked twice as glorious as the night before. But the most impressive revelation of the day was the most common mode of public transport in Hangzhou - Bicycles! In retrospect, I doubt that any other mode of public transport makes any sense in Hangzhou (though the streets are full of Aston Martins, BMWs and Porches). In such a gorgeous city, one ought to go slow, feel the soft breeze on one's face and look about in fascination. Bicycles are ubiquitous in Hangzhou. You can get a punch card from any of the many booths by paying 100 Kuai (but that's only a deposit which is returned to you once you replace the bike at the end of the day). To pick a bicycle, you have to tap the card unto the stand and that unlocks your ride. You may replace it at any other stand in the city. So long as you keep replacing your bike in different stands every one hour, your ride is free. Even if you pay though, the charges are minimal, about 2-3 Kuai per hour, and the first hour is free.
Naj struggled with balancing her cycle a little bit, but when we guffawed at her amateurish biking, she threatened us with showing off her prowess at swimming next time we vacation at a beach. That shut me up atleast. And off we went, all over the town - on bikes, by foot, by boat and once by a mini bus. We took a ferry to the Lesser Yingzhou Isle (Three Pools Mirroring the Moon), which is the largest island within the West Lake, but has three pools inside, making it look like an island, within an island, within an island. We trailed the route to the place where the legendary white snake met her lover, and there each of us took turns to strike the pose of a snake, much to the chagrin of the entirely prudish Chinese people who probably thought we were kooks. We went to the Red Carp Pond where schools of carp swam underneath the transparent pool adding shades of orange to the waters. We ate bruchetta and cheese cake at a Costa Coffee next to the lake. And we cycled back to the hostel, to catch some sleep before going out to get a taste of the night-life of the city - exhausted, yet utterly delighted.
We picked up a city tourist magazine from the Hostel's reception and looked up some recommendations for dinner and clubbing. That night we dined at Grandma's Kitchen, whose impeccable reputation and popularity demanded that we wait for a whole hour before our turn to be assigned a table. It definitely lived up to its reputation. The restaurant offers a graphic menu where one can decide upon the fare, literally by the face of it. With my tummy feeling rich inside, I only needed some alcohol in my veins and some serious dancing to seal the day.
But here's the thing with Chinese clubs and pubs (and typically so, as I was informed, with the ones in Hangzhou) - Chinese people's idea of having fun, is to sit and drink and look at people. While the clubs are ostentatiously and dramatically decorated (to an extent that in one club I almost imagined that I'd see Helen jump out and perform her cabaret, old bollywood style), the people themselves are stoic and unwelcoming, except for the club staff to some extent, but then they need to make money. We began at Suzie Wong where we told the manager that we only wanted to dance. But then we looked around and there was only one girl (who seemed to have been paid to do so) dancing on a central stage and people stared at her. We thought we'd try it anyways, since the music was pretty good (and I live in India, like heck I care about people staring!). But then just as we thought the music was really picking up and started swinging to the new single by Black Eyed Peas, the music was stopped. Next arrived two men and three women painted in white from head to toe, displaying some really ridiculous Chinese opera dance moves, in such complete contrast to BEP. How. Very. Lame. And out of place. We hung out for a little while longer, primarily because we were caught by surprise, and this time WE stared (and I remember screwing up my lips in distaste a little bit), but then we decided to just move on.
The next club was better, since we got stools by the bar and thought we might as well drink some before moving on someplace else. The music was again pretty good, but the DJ was hopelessly expressionless, and that just killed it for me. That, was until the point he played THIS.
"Oh my God, are you serious? How can someone play this song, while being so expressionless! I doubt any of these people understand what's being said in this song."
Well, atleast that song got us out of our stools, got us dancing and pushed the mood. Carole looked further for any better recommendations in the city magazine, and we followed it to another club area. Once out of the cab, we heard some Lady Gaga, and followed the music up to a new discovery. A club full of Indians! In the entire day in Hangzhou, I hadn't seen even one Indian. The Indian manager of this new club was a medical student in China, who was trying hard to sell the place as an expat hangout. Much bonding happened as he informed me that he was from Saddi Dilli. I looked at his T-shirt which read "King of the Fuckin' University" and declared "Of course you are a Delhi-Boi!". He gave us a very good deal on the drinks, and though the club was emptier than the first two - it seemed more fun. Other Indian men came up and spoke to me in Hindi, and it sounded like music to my ears in this strange land. This is where I got to be the party starter. I got on stage, on table tops and God knows where else. As the legend goes, dear Reader, I carried "party" in my pockets like pixie dust and sprinkled it around. But since that was our last day, infact our last few hours in Hangzhou, we had to call it a night just when the Indian men were extending to us invites to other party scenes around town.
The Sisterhood of Fidgety Feet left Hangzhou at 6 a.m. in the morning, on a flight back to Beijing. But I retained a part of Hangzhou with me forever.
[To be Contd...]
