Escape to Hangzhou

“Hangzhou is the most beautiful city in China”, says a woman dressed in a delicate white gown as her long black hair flirts on the gentle breeze.

It is a bold statement given the immensity of this ancient land. But transfixed by her beauty and sitting barely two metres from the television in a confined flat on the 22nd floor of a Shanghai concrete block, I am in no position to resist. I decide to answer this siren-like call going out on CCTV9 – China’s only English language channel.

A three-hour train journey takes me through the rich Zhejiang countryside. It is a welcome tonic to the intoxicating hyperbole of Shanghai, where I have been based for the past four months, and I settle into thoughts of a timeless space of untouched landscapes and film set looks.

But as we slow into Hangzhou station, the outlook alters rapidly as the windows drain of all colour leaving only the dull blur of a universal urban sprawl. Have I over slept and missed my intended destination? Is this really it? Is this really the gateway to the most beautiful city in China? It would be more of a challenge than I anticipated.

Indeed Hangzhou is a city of more than six million inhabitants and on warm summer weekends such as this, it can swell to bursting point. And suddenly the most tranquil of sanctuaries can turn to bedlam. The iconic West Lake - a 3km wide water feature lying beside the rising city - is the primary target. It is the reason for Hangzhou’s celebrated reputation, the source of its natural splendor and the starting point for all journeys of exploration.

After a rather sickly mid-morning breakfast of fried egg, bacon and beans – sitting uneasily on the standard sweet Chinese bread – I set out to circumnavigate the shoreline of this grand lake. It is Saturday on the eastern shore and the commercial hustle from the encroaching city is overflowing onto the walkways surrounding the lake. Massive billboards displayed on the high-rise buildings clamour for attention and compete to draw tourists towards the urban forest. I am weak. The glimpse of a sleek black Porsche draped in four glamour girls is enough to derail my progress around the liquid calm lake. When I come to, I am surrounded by sculpted metallic bodies and chrome alloys in a car showroom. I turn to the manager and, while pointing at a small red convertible, ask “Na ge duoshao qian?” (that one, how much money?). The manager cuts a cursory glance over my shoddy appearance, and ushers me keenly towards the exit. I wonder what his reaction
would have been had inquired about the real thing rather than a mini go-kart replica?

Further along the concrete bank a sign translated into English implores everyone to “Have fun”. In front of this a group of elderly citizens, with the most rudimentary musical instruments and instruction sheets, have duly gathered for what appears to be an impromptu performance. But their stern-faces lack the spark of spontaneity and instead suggest a sense of obligation. Those watching draw intensely on their cigarettes as a tall, slender man composes his leather jacket, relaxes his weathered face and stands forward. The sour shrill of the wannabe vocalist suggests this could be the opening audition for the Chinese X-factor but the gaggle of onlookers remain sober and without cheer.

As I dwell on the increasing sense that it is all rather contrived, the scheduled water display begins on the lake. Jets of water shoot into the blue sky before shattering into a million crystal droplets as they fall again – all with the choreography and execution of a grand fireworks display. Further along the shoreline, there is a carefully staged mini-lagoon scene where a bronzed hunter stands knee-deep, holding his spear aloft, while a golden bull wallows in the shallows. However, the green backdrop fails to conceal the swarms surrounding a large Hagen Daas store.

I retreat to my hostel impressed by the scale and spectacle of it all but still craving something subtler and more understated.

Despite an early alarm, my plans to explore the lake’s Western extremities the following morning are again disrupted by a melee of hypnotized tourists descending buses and flowing into one of the giant pagodas that looks out over the lake. Adhering to the sheep principle, I line up behind them and eventually an escalator at the ancient structure’s core whisks us to the summit. The wait is timely as on-queue a rift forms in the clouds bringing the distant mountains to the West into a bold focus and setting alight the previously dormant lake. The view to the East is as remarkable with the concrete city looming.

Back at ground level, I bolt for freedom. It requires nimble footwork to break from the swirling crowds, alertness to dodge oncoming cyclists, and some evasive action as a buggy with eight empty seats speeds past, foot-to-the-floor, honking and hissing in the strictest of Chinese. Their intent presumably to set a lap record rather than pick up straggling walkers; as likely to knock people down as pick them up. But once I cross the four-lane highway, clogged with traffic, everything slows to expose a quiet serenity not present elsewhere.

A few hours of drifting reveals a myriad of streams, pools, botanic gardens and secluded temples. Floating walkways, snaking across large lagoons, offer an awesome perspective to the sheer rising mountains beyond. In the midst of this peace, I stumble on a street of restaurants with families eating Sunday lunches in the warm afternoon sun. The children had been dismissed from this Sunday chore and run kites on the cut green lawns and clamber in the rocky streams, while old men, fishing one or two per pond, stand undisturbed by the laughter and undeterred by the fussy-eating fish. My intrusion prompts a few quizzical looks but they are only momentarily concerned.

The only other intruders are newly-weds. It seems this primary spot for their wedding photographs with couples coming from all around to pose on the floating walkways and small timber bridges in front of the mountainous backdrop. Photographers crouch and spring to set their couples, dressed in back and white best, into epic scenes. It is as if a mass wedding has taken place and then dispersed for a more intimate moment with the camera.

But these apart, the landscape is vacant. I lie down on the unoccupied grassy bank, shield my eyes from the intense sun and survey the stunning and undisturbed scenery. It is more than enough to dispel any doubts; Hangzhou is quite possibly the most beautiful city in China. But after 30 minutes I become restless. Now where can I find that mysterious woman in white?