Recently the grey cloud of pollution hanging over to Shanghai has been getting to me so a friend and I decided to take a trip to nearby Hanzhou. Hanzhou is another several million strong city with a rich history (Marco Polo called it the most beautiful city in the world) that I had never heard of before coming. We went to see the infamous West Lake and perhaps hike through some tea fields.
Upon arriving we quickly realized that West Lake was not the natural escape the two of us Oregonians craved. There were people everywhere, noisy golf carts guiding tours; cement and vendors and taxis everywhere. This feeling was cemented when a seemingly nice park area quickly disappeared as we looked around and noticed the speakers droning out a dull melody while masked workers sprayed pesticide on the grass.
“Let’s get out of here! NOW!”
Yet just a 10 minute taxi ride away we found ourselves peacefully alone, climbing terraces covered with tea trees. Trudging through the mud we found the peace and nature that we were looking for. For the first time in awhile I felt a bit of quiet. It was wonderful.
Now what was that bit about guanxi? Well on the way down we stumbled past a beautiful garden nestled into the foothills. It was sounded by a creatively designed stone wall that had circular entrances. The attendants were perfectly dressed in traditional Chinese outfits, the men in all black and the women in red dresses. The mist in the air made the place feel dream like. We tromped on in, our shoes full of mud and started looking around.
As we approached we walked through a parking lot full of Audis, BMWs and Mercedes Benzes. We hadn’t got more than a few feet before one of the attendants approached us and began speaking rapidly. Luckily my friend speaks decent Chinese and we found out we were actually at a restaurant.
No, we couldn’t get a cup of tea, this is reservations only. Yes, we can walk around. Well, don’t mind if I do.
The attendant guided us through the gardens and very politely made sure we stayed in the appropriate places. Soon small pagodas appeared ducked into the hillsides and surrounded by flowers, each one holding an individual dining party. This is wear guanxi happens. Behind these doors friendships were being confimed, decisions were being made and baijou (Chinese liquor) was being drunk. Suddenly everything looked different, our hillside garden is a bastion of power. These pagodas held China’s elite. We looked at the giant fish in the river that ran through the pond and admired the plants. The elite have good taste.
I’m still looking for a cup of tea.
