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China’s water world The ancient water-towns of the Yangtze estuary are a refuge from the urban and industrial sprawl of modern China

Suzhou calls itself “the Venice of the East”. But, so does Zhouzhuang, and there are a dozen other watery towns in China’s Jiangsu province that could legitimately claim the title.
1435travel
An Old Neighborhood of Zhouzhuang

Suzhou calls itself “the Venice of the East”. But, so does Zhouzhuang, and there are a dozen other watery towns in China’s Jiangsu province that could legitimately claim the title. Fed by the world’s second longest river, the Yangtze estuary is awash with water, not only from the Yangtze itself, but also from a multitude of lesser rivers that converge on the area from both north and south. When Marco Polo, a native of the European Venice, arrived there during his epic journey of 1271-1292 AD he must have felt right at home among the “water-towns” of southern China.

The coastal lowlands that flank metropolitan Shanghai are one of the most fertile and long-inhabited regions of China. In 600 BC He Lu, enigmatic ruler of the Kingdom of Wu, made Suzhou his capital. A thousand years later, when the Grand Canal was pushed through from Beijing, Suzhou and the surrounding towns were already linked together by a network of smaller canals. The new transportation corridor opened the Beijing market to the south’s silk, manufactured goods, and farm produce. The cities and towns of the Yangtze estuary prospered. Their growing wealth attracted scholars, merchants, artists, and government patronage. By the time Marco Polo arrived in 1280 AD Suzhou was recognized as the cultural capital of China. The pioneer travel writer describes it as a place with “six thousand bridges, clever merchants, cunning men of all crafts, and very wise men called Sages”.

Sadly very little remains of the city that Marco Polo describes, but thanks to the wise men of Suzhou a 3 km by 5 km portion of the old city is now a “historic district,” protected from further urban and industrial expansion. Many of the bridges are still there, its classic gardens are carefully protected, and the network of canals that wind through the moated inner city are still used by both local residents and tourists.

We began our exploration of the old city with a visit to the “Garden of the Humble Administrator,” a strikingly beautiful park where secluded pathways and slim waterways wind through rockeries, past traditional tile-roofed pagodas, and over arched bridges. It’s one of 70 private gardens, which give Suzhou its reputation as one of the greenest and most beautiful cities in China. I asked our local guide how the garden got its name. “Not so clear,” he answered, “Chinese characters may mean ‘Garden of Unsuccessful Politician’ or ‘garden of stupid officials’, not so clear.” What is clear, its 16 th century designer was a master of the landscaping art and the gardeners who have tended it for the past 500 years were, and are, dedicated to absolute perfection.

Chinese gardens are a serious art form, each one the unique creation of an artist striving to produce a harmonious balance between water, rock, buildings and vegetation. Originally commissioned by wealthy merchants for their private contemplation the gardens of Suzchou now attract thousands of tourists daily. Only 60 minutes by train from Shanghai, the gardens and tranquil inner city canals of Suzhou are a major holiday destination for the people of China’s second biggest city — a place of refuge from the over- crowded pressure of urban life.

After a morning of garden touring we took a small boat from the Grand Canal, along part of the old city moat, and finally through the narrow waterways of the inner city. The shops and cafes along the route are crowded with visitors — almost all of them Chinese. We saw very few other foreigners but the place is buzzing with Chinese tourists and businessmen. The five-star, 240-room Chun Shen Hu Resort Hotel where we spent the night is, according to its web page, “located in the paradise of Oriental Venice”. The watery theme extends into its vast foyer where a grand piano stands on a small polished marble island among a multitude of reflecting pools and fountains. Invisible fingers ripple over the keys as a ghostly pianist, tucked discretely into a black box under the keyboard, belts out a high-tech version of Ode to Joy. The Chun Shen Hu is hosting several simultaneous business conferences and every room in the place is full.

The drive from Suzhou to Shanghai passes through a kaleidoscope of land and water — a checkerboard of ancient and modern China. The fertile rice paddies and farms that attracted the first people to this part of China now share their watery landscape with giant factories, warehouses and new apartment complexes. A farmer, walking behind his water buffalo, tills a small plot of land wedged between two coal-fired factories producing high-tech gadgets for the export market. Carp farmers tend their fish from bamboo rafts, using the same techniques and tools as their ancestors a dozen generations ago. But when their work is done they leave the land and move home to modern high-rise apartments. When I questioned whether pollution from the factories was affecting the quality of food our local guide assured me that things are getting better. But the shift from coal to cleaner sources of power and the protection of farmland from commercial and urban waste still lags far behind the pace of industrial growth.

Half way to Shanghai we stopped at Zhouzhuang, an ancient water-town on the crossroads of South China’s rivers and canals. Amazingly this picturesque market town, which dates back to the Ming Dynasty, has been spared the industrial juggernaut that is sweeping across China. Like the gardens of Suzhou the inner city of Zhouzhuang, an easy day-trip from Shanghai, is a place where urban Chinese can revisit their rapidly disappearing heritage. Despite the influx of tourists and the proliferation of shops and kiosks along its streets the layout of the town’s canals has not changed much in 500 years and many of its buildings and bridges are centuries old.

Betty and I climbed into the Chinese equivalent of a Venetian gondola for a tour of the town. Standing in the stern and using a single sculling oar, Chang propelled the boat skillfully through narrow waterways, under low stone bridges, and around clusters of other boats. In true Venetian tradition he even treated us to a song. We saw surprisingly few foreign tourists. Most of the boats belong to waterside residents whose houses line the canal. The doors of their low, tile-roofed homes open directly onto the water and their boats are an essential part of everyday life. Kids waved to us as we passed under a low vine-covered bridge. A flock of cormorants, perched on a boat outside one of the houses, preened themselves while waiting for their owner to take them fishing.

The canal narrows and in a few minutes we have left the tourist kiosks behind. Chang’s boat becomes a time capsule and each stroke of his oar propels us deeper into China’s past. Gliding slowly over the calm water past ancient houses where people still live as they did centuries ago it’s easy to forget, at least for a few moments, the turmoil of the freeways and crowded city streets of modern urban China.