Come with me to Nánjīng and Wúxī

A view of Wúxī by night

One of the benefits of working for a Chinese International Education company as I do is that compared to an ex-pat job for a British, American or Australian school in China, I get to access a lot more of China for direct experience of the country, the culture and the people. It’s true that I’m not paid the same salary as principals at some of the large western owned international schools in China, but personally speaking the opportunity for ‘close encounters with China’, more than makes up for this. The most recent of these school trips, we call them ‘study tours’, has been to the southern cities of Nanjing and Wúxī. Join me, and I’ll try to share with you local cultures and flavours.

Let’s start with a little geography and history to set the context. Nanjing and Wúxī are both in the eastern centre of China, close to Shanghai and in a province called Jiangsu. Nanjing is the capital of Jiangsu. A critical part of the geography is that both cities are located close to significant waterways, the Chángsānjiǎo as it’s called in Chinese, the three chief river corner, or in English, the Yangtze River Delta. Water transport was enormously important to the development of both cities as they grew by selling local products all over China.

This can be emphasised by the fact that Wúxī stands on the Grand Canal. The Grand Canal is one of the wonders of China. The Grand Canal ties northern and southern China together. A key to understanding Chinese history is the famous opening line of the fourteenth century classic novel ‘The Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ which starts ‘The empire, long divided, must unite; long united, must divide. Thus it has ever been.’ Up until 1949 the history of China has been a story of fragmentation and unification. Running through this long history, the Grand Canal is like a knot tying south and north together, running from Hangzhou in the south to Beijing in the north.

The Cháng Jiāng river at the heart of Nánjīng

The first sections of the canal were cut as early in history as 4th century BCE, and since then it has been added to, particularly in the sixth century (Sui dynasty) and the 13th century (Yuan dynasty). When I visited the Canal in Wúxī there was a constant flow of barge traffic, proving that the Grand Canal is a living waterway even in hyper-modern China.

Nánjīng means ‘south capital’, just as Běijīng means ‘north capital’. Nánjīng has been the most important city in China at many times in the past. In fact, twice during the period of Republican China, Nánjīng took on the role of capital city. One of the major patriotic sites in China is the Zhōngshānlíng, the Sun Yat Sen mausoleum and it’s located in Nánjīng, which was the leader’s chosen capital. I had the privilege of visiting the mausoleum. Sun Yat Sen was elected as the founding President of Republican China in December 1911. Sun died in 1925 and his body now rests in the mausoleum. Sun made a significant contribution to the modernisation of China before the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949. In particular, he established three foundational principles – nationalism, democracy and social equality.

The Zhōngshānlíng

The architecture and layout of the mausoleum is a fittingly harmonious blend of Chinese and Western thinking. The mausoleum is built on the side of the Zhōngshān, the Purple Mountain and must be approached by climbing 392 steps, representing the 392 million Chinese people at that time. You enter the mausoleum area passing under an archway inscribed with the characters, 博爱坊, ‘Bo Ai Feng’ or simply ‘Universal Love’. Half way up the climb you come to the three arched marble gate. Over the central arch are words from Sun Yat Sen himself, ‘天下为公’, ‘tiānxià-wéigōng’ or ‘the whole world is collectively owned’. In the main mausoleum hall are three arches representing the three pillars of Sun Yat Sen’s political leadership – “Nationalism” (民族), “People’s Rights” (民权) and “People’s Livelihood” (民生). The mausoleum also features a striking statue of Sun Yat Sen himself.

It was fitting that I went with my Chinese students to show respect to such a change leader. Like them, he came from a humble background. We hope that like him, our students will use their international experiences and education to make their contribution to improvements to the country and the lives of its people.

tiānxià-wéigōng

There is another aspect of Nánjīng’s history that we must pay respect to. In 1937 the Chinese fought heroically to protect their then capital city from the invading Japanese Imperial Army. In a horrifying and shameful event, when soldiers from the Imperial Army entered the city they behaved appallingly, slaughtering and torturing the civilian population against all the international rules of war. There are sites you can visit to reflect on the full horror of the ‘Nánjīng Massacre’ as it is called.

However we chose to remember this era in a different way. Also on the mountain is a very modern museum dedicated to the resistance to the Japanese armies at that time. In Chinese it’s called the ‘ Kàng Rì hángkōng lièshì jìniànguǎn’ or the ‘The Memorial Halls for the Pilot martyrs killed in the anti-Japanese resistance’. It is the final resting place of 170 pilots who lost their lives in the air battle above Nánjīng. We can think of it as the equivalent of the Battle of Britain fought to save the United Kingdom from invasion in 1940. Amazingly, just as the RAF in Britain was assisted by pilots from across the world, including nearly 200 from Poland and nearly 500 of Afro-Caribbean heritage, the skies above Nánjīng and south China were also defended by international forces opposed to fascism.

The modern design of the The Memorial Halls for the Pilot martyrs killed in the anti-Japanese resistance

In particular this museum pays tribute to the sacrifices of American airmen who fought alongside Chinese comrades in arms as ‘the Flying Tigers’. This is a fascinating story that needs much more detail than I can give here. It took place in 1941 when the Japanese Imperial Army seemed certain to overrun China. Chinese forces remained in control of areas in the southwest around Chongqing and Yunnan. The Japanese forces were attempting to complete a pincer movement, moving up from what was then Burma and down from the north.

A volunteer force of pilots, mainly American, but with a few British, formed alongside Chinese aviation units to deny the Japanese the control of the skies that would have paved the way for their victory. The museum is full of fascinating and poignant exhibits, paying testament to the shared heroism of all who gave their lives to save China and her people at that awful hour. The visit was especially poignant for me because my grandfather on one side was an RAF pilot and my grandmother on the other side, was part of an artillery crew defending Southampton from bombing raids. I felt an enormous connection to the lives and sacrifices recorded in the museum.

The American Eagle and the Chinese Dragon, joined in the badge of the Flying Tigers

Now let’s move on to Wúxī. Wúxī is part of an area that is sometimes called Jiāngnán, that is a geographical and cultural complex around the delta of the river that we call Yangtze in English. As you might imagine from its location, water plays a big part in the lives and culture of this area. It is in Jiāngnán that you can find the best examples of the phenomena of the ‘ water-town’. These are urban developments that took place entirely based around the networks of rivers and canals that flow everywhere through the delta.

In a water-town, houses nestle right up to the waterfront, often backing onto it directly. This was a reflection of the fact that the lives of water-town dwellers entirely revolved around the waterways. Research has shown that before the twentieth century, transport links in Jiāngnán were almost entirely by river or canal with very few roads. These towns prospered on trade carried up and down the watery arteries. Wúxī for example was the heart of a thriving brick and tile industry. From here, construction materials were carried all over China, bringing employment and wealth to local people. People washed their clothes from steps leading down to the river. People lived on diets of fish and fowl sourced from the waterways. Parallel to the rivers and canals were lanes crowded with businesses, busy buying and selling goods and products traded by boat.

A carving shows the importance of the waterways to water-town economics.

And these water-towns are still engines of economic growth today! The new trade is in tourism. It probably wasn’t the intention of the original town designers, but the layout of these water-towns are perfect sites for visitors. Along the waterside itself are the picturesque buildings themselves. In Wúxī the Watertown area is called Huìshān. In Huìshān many of the water front houses have been whitewashed, making for harmony with the flowing water. At night the river area is filled with neon light which reflects in the waves and off of the white screens of the houses to create what is called ‘son et lumiere’ – a sound and light show, which looks intriguingly like the famous Van Gogh painting ‘Starry Night over the Rhone’.

The Huìshān starry night look

Furthermore, these riverside houses and the surrounding lanes are perfect for the favourite Chinese pastime – snacking. We English have our abilities in this area-just think of the sandwiches, pasties, crisps and cakes that we fuel ourselves with. However if snacking was an Olympic event, the Chinese would certainly be in a medal position. The cobbled and charming streets that thread their way parallel to the waterfront are thronged end to end with an inescapable array of 小吃, xiǎochī, or ‘little bites’. There will be local delicacies, national favourites and of course now, an increasing number of international temptations, especially KFC. As I’ve remarked in other blogs, the Chinese people certainly share a sense of wanderlust with we Brits. Amazingly at its peak in 2019, internal travel and tourism earned the Chinese economy over 6.5 billion rmb, about 700 million pounds!

Wúxī tourism and the Van Gogh effect

Let me share with you my favourite Wúxī savoury. I find something called ‘xiǎolóngtāngbāo’ irresistible. xiǎolóngtāngbāo are little parcels of paper thin pastry, containing a filling – meat, seafood or vegetable, which swims in its own little serving of delicious broth. Yummy! Wúxī has its own versions of these and I was able to enjoy them on the visit. The pastry skins are just as light and delicate as xiǎolóngtāngbāo across China, but the Wúxī speciality has a sweeter taste to the soup. The sugary broth makes an interesting contrast to the saltiness of the filling. However I should share with you that in my humble opinion these snacks taste even better with a tiny sprinkling of chilli sauce so that you have a blend of sweet, salt and spicy flavours in one.

Wúxī xiǎolóngtāngbāo

There is another shared love between the Chinese people and the British people that I’ve written about before – gardens! You cannot leave Wúxī without visiting at least one of the incredible courtyard gardens that bring green spaces to the town. So come with me now and we’ll visit Jichang garden, in Huìshān ancient town in Wúxī.

The design of this garden is very different from English ideas. English gardens usually create a single landscape so that from a vantage point you can see and appreciate the whole garden. There might be a variety of beds with different plant varieties, but the gardener will work towards an overall harmony that can be appreciated from different viewing points, usually strategically placed seats.

One of the ‘natural’ courtyards of the Jichang garden

The Jichang garden is more like China herself, a complex of different environments, interconnected by a range of intriguing pathways. There is a lake environment, where a range of lush trees and trailing vegetation surround a lake, well stocked with plump fish. To move around, you cross aesthetically designed bridges that cast graceful reflections into the still waters. There is a mountain environment, where roughly hewn rocks have been assembled into narrow mountain passes, with streams cascading through the centre, forcing you to take precarious steps. There is a temple landscape, where the chiming bells and smoky incense of Buddhism harmonise with the complex roots of ancient trees and the mantra of bird song. Each environment is artfully arranged, to look as natural as possible.

Jichang garden water-scape

You can’t help but wonder about the wealth and privilege of the family for whom this garden was originally built. Maybe like me, it will bring to mind the luxuries of the lives of the characters in ‘Hónglóu Mèng’, ‘The Dream of the Red Mansion’, the famous novel written by Cáo Xuěqín in the eighteenth century, describing the mansions and gardens of a wealthy family. And then another thought comes to your mind. Up until the modern China, this garden would have been out of the reach of nearly all of the Chinese people. And now it is the property of everyone, not a few. The garden walls have been broken down and anyone with a few rmb to pay the entrance ticket can enjoy the garden design and take whatever ideas it inspires in them back home with them after their visit.

Gardens like that at Jichang at Wúxī are a practical expression of Chinese poetry and philosophy, art made nature. The seed of it is planted in my mind. How wonderful it would be to have more Chinese style gardens like this in England.

The deep harmony of Chinese garden design

If you haven’t done so already, I hope that one day you might have the chance to visit this beautiful corner of China and experience the Inspiration of connections to the UK yourself. Until then I hope that my article has shared something of the local flavours with you.

The author and his students invite you to enjoy the inspiration of Nánjīng and Wúxī

天下为公’, ‘tiānxià-wéigōng!

( all photos are originals by the author)

China and Me

The author at Black Dragon Pool, Lijiang

I have lived and worked in China since 2013, during which time I’ve led the start up and development of an innovative Chinese international school in Beijing. I spend ten months out of every twelve in China. I live in a district of Changping in north Beijing where I am the only foreigner. I work every day in the friendly company of my Chinese colleagues. In the UK I live in a southern town called Southbourne. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the approximate 5000 miles in between, I could walk down Bellevue Road in Southbourne and turn the corner into Beishahe Road in Changping, without batting an eyelid. China is my home.

The great bridge of friendship between Britain and China is education. I’m proud of the fact that every year over 90% of my students choose British universities for their further education. The cultures and traditions of learning and knowledge are long and venerable in both our histories. But I have to make a shameful and humbling admission. I was educated to the highest level in the UK, having had the privilege of studying at Cambridge University. But not once in my whole educational journey was China introduced so I, like so many British people, grew up almost entirely ignorant of the country, its people, its history and its culture.

The author promoting British education in China

That’s why after ten years of immersing myself as deeply in China as I can, I’ve become Chair of a friendship organisation in Britain called the Society for Anglo Chinese Understanding, which was founded to build on the legacy of that great friend of China, Joseph Needham. Inspired by the traditions of abiding friendship between China and Britain I am determined to build as many bridges of understanding as I can.

As the famous British poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote:

‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’

Let’s start with my love of the amazing diversity of places I’ve been able to visit across this incredible country.

We start in Beijing, strolling through the tranquil winding maze of traditional alleyways called the ‘hutong’. Sit awhile to enjoy the garrulous 叽叽喳喳 – jījizhāzhā, the birdsong gossip of the old timers sitting out in the soft Beijing autumn sunshine, the distinctive tones of their 北京话 – Běijīnghuà – the Beijing dialect.

The author in the Beijing Hutong alleyways

But now, let’s leave Beijing and jump on the dragon’s back – the amazing network of high spec, high tech, high speed trains which can whizz you at speeds in excess of 200 miles per hour the length and breadth of this land. Sit back and enjoy the service as delicious hot meals are delivered to your comfortable seat and the cinematic panorama of a nation opens up outside of your window.

First stop on our journey to the incredible – the Mogao Caves in far flung Dunhuang in Gansu Province. Shake the sand from your shoes and the darkness from your eyes and blink in the presence of the beauty of Buddhist art from the Tang dynasty (618-907 CE). Immersed in the swirling colours and diversity of faces you journey back to a time when this very place was one of the great crossroads of world trade and culture. Here in this cave complex where you stand they found the world’s oldest printed book – a text of the Buddhist Diamond Sutra produced in 868 CE.

Detail from the 莫高窟, Mògāokū
Mogao caves in Dunhuang
敦煌, Gansu

Hurry, back on board, we’re heading south and east down through the mountains into Sichuan and the ancient city of Chengdu. Using an app just developed in China we can call up a restaurant in the town of Lanzhou and have a delicious fragrant bowl of local 拉面 – lāmiàn, hand pulled noodles, delivered freshly to our train. And now here we are in Chengdu, with its all year round balmy climate and we’re following in the footsteps of one of China and the world’s greatest poets, Du Fu, who enjoyed some of the best years of his harsh life of exile in this city and wrote of it:

‘I’ve heard a lot about this city

Listen, there’s a sound

Of people making music.

That doesn’t cure

My loneliness.’

The author at 杜甫草堂, Dù Fǔ cǎotáng, Du Fu Cottage

But there’s no time for loneliness for us. Just a short bus journey out of Chengdu and we’re at the site of Sanxingdui, staring deep into the profound and mysterious masked eyes of one of China’s, one of the world’s, most ancient civilisations, rapt in wonder at their sophisticated bronze artistry, works as intriguing and expressive as modern surrealism. And of course even a whistle stop tour of China could not be complete unless you joined the adoring throngs, wandering the beautifully landscaped panda sanctuary, peering among the swaying bamboo poles for the alluring, elusive patches of black and white, that are China’s gift to the natural iconography of the world.

The author with a Sanxingdui mask

The high speed train welcomes us back and we’re off again, whizzing through the mountain passes, the deep ingenious tunnels threading under the mountains and flying over the elegant bridges that span the valleys, south to fabled Yunnan! In 2021 the COP 15 world bio-diversity conference took place in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan and with good reason. The eco-systems of Yunnan are critical to the environmental health of China and the whole planet. 18,000 different high plant species are found here, 1836 vertebrate species and 72.5% of China’s protected animal species. And here the great and largely unknown story of China’s great struggle to harmonise humanity and nature is unfolding.

In Yunnan we need to leave the high speed rail network behind and slow down to nature’s pace. Sit awhile by Black Dragon Pool in Lijiang and lose yourself in the sublime beauty of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain soaring nine miles distant in the low lying Yunnan clouds.

‘We sit together, the mountain and me

Till only the mountain remains.’

(Li Bai – Zazen on Ching T’ing Mountain, trans Sam Hammill, 2000)

Yunnan invites you to wander far from the beaten track, in your heart and your mind. Here we are now in wandering through the historic rows of tea bushes of Pu’er, the deep well of the world’s tea culture. Let’s take a seat in a tea-tasting room, heady with fermented fragrances. The afternoon sunlight dances through the window and refracts with earthly radiance through your glass tea bowl. This ignites the flavours of a history of tea cultivation and tea culture with roots in the tenth century when the local Blang and Dai ethnic minorities worked with the wisdom of the Tea Ancestor to develop this unique tea landscape. As you sip at the eco-system in a cup, the 茶艺师, the ‘chayi shi’ or ‘tea master’, a young lady from the Yunnan Wa or Va ethnic minority proudly tells me she is studying tea culture at the local ‘Tea University’, set up with government funding to preserve the knowledge and wisdom of Pu’er for future global generations.

The Yunnan Tea University

The high speed train from Kunming to Shanghai is waiting. There’s one more thing we must do – eat! We need some soul food! For me there is one simple dish that represents the 味道, the wèidao or flavour of Yunnan, 米线, mǐxiàn – rice noodles. You stood 2000 metres up on Aliao Mountain, about 300 kilomtres distant from Kunming and had your breath taken away by the myriad of rice terraces dug by the Hani ethnic minority on the mountain side, shimmering like dragon scales in the rising sun. Now steaming in front of you on a wobbly table in a street side restaurant, is a bowl of fragrant broth where the terrace rice swims in the form of long, white, strands of noodles. There are many local varieties of Yunnan rice noodles but perhaps ‘guò qiáo mǐ xiàn’ or ‘Cross the Bridge noodles’ are the most famous. There are slices of locally cured meats, glistening green fresh Yunnan vegetables, perhaps some delicate quail eggs, pickled vegetables and some ‘làjiāo’, chilli pickle sauce, to be added to your personal need for a spicy kick to your meal

Soon your taste buds are dancing to the harmony of natural, organic, earthy flavours. As you eat you slip into a little revery about the legendary origins of this dish. The story tells it was first created by a devoted wife for her struggling scholar husband, who studied hard every day, a bridge away from home and would eat nothing until his wife ‘crossed the bridge’ carrying this life-saving recipe. Inspired by her culinary art the scholar passed the imperial exam with flying colours and although he is long forgotten, his wife’s gift to the world lives on.

Yunnan, 米线, mǐxiàn – rice noodles

So we’re ready for the final leg of our travel embrace of China, the G1372, high speed train from Kunming South to Shanghai Hongqiao. As the kilometres slip by you remember all of the faces of the people, the other main ingredient of your love of China and its people. So many kind smiles and welcoming looks, in ten years not one glance of hostility or prejudice. So many hesitant, shy words of English to welcome you wherever you’ve been. Inevitably some faces stay longer in your memories than others. Let’s meet two of them.

His boyish face lit up in a warm smile, Along comes to meet you at the exit to Kaile Railway station, in Guizhou Province. For the next two weeks he’s offering you homestay in Langde village, a village of the Miao ethnic minority. His quiet charm makes you feel relaxed and at home right from the moment of meeting. 50 kilometres through the mountains later and he is guiding you up the stone steps, past the villagers offering you the traditional greeting of small but ferociously potent mǐjiǔ – rice wine. ‘Be careful’, he warns with a laugh. He guides you through the winding rough stone paths under the stone and wooden 吊脚楼 diàojiǎolóu houses, raising themselves along the mountainside on stilts.

At the house I’m introduced to Along’s mother and father, wizened by age but still spry and sprightly. We are sitting in the kitchen which has a roaring wood fuelled fire on top of which a pan of food is bubbling merrily. Feeling curious to taste a new dish, and feeling hungry, I shyly ask if I could try some. Along, mother and father all smile conspiratorially. ‘Why not?’ A bowl is produced and I’m given a ladle to spoon up a serving of piping hot delicious local cuisine. At the last minute Along’s mother mutters disapprovingly and gently but firmly stops me in mid motion. Along and his father fall silent. The mother guides me over to the dark corner of the kitchen and pulls up a trap door. Totally confused I peer down into the darkness below until out of the shadows comes the unmistakable snuffling of pigs and three large snouts are poked up towards me, sniffing greedily. Mother makes a sign that confirms what I’m now thinking – that this bubbling pan of food is for the porcine beauties kept under the stilted kitchen floor. There’s an awkward moment of silence, how will the foreigner react? And when I burst into waves of warm, good natured laughter they join in. Barriers of language and culture are dissolved and we pass the next two weeks as family, sharing both the joys and challenges of village life.

The author joins a 苗族 Miáozú festival

My second unforgettable encounter was in the far south-west Yunnan city of Tengchong, which is very close to the border with Myanmar. Come with me now to meet an authentic Chinese hero, Lu Caiwen. Lu is in his nineties, but as you sit in his living room, enchanted by his merry shining eyes it’s impossible to believe this is his real age. Impossible that is, until he tells his life story. You see Lu Caiwen came of age in one of the most terrible periods of recent Chinese history, when the invading Japanese Imperial Army threatened to overrun the whole of China. It’s 1943 and the invasion has captured Tengchong and is attempting to drive north to take a grip over the whole country. Lu Caiwen tells how he was technically too young to join the Chinese Expeditionary Force but still did so and joined the heroic struggle to delay or halt the invaders. It’s at this point that Joseph Needham, now honoured by the Society for Anglo Chinese Understanding, enters the story. As a well known scientist he was sent to China by the British government to find out what resources the Chinese needed to continue their struggle and organise supply and delivery.

Moist tears cloud Lu Caiwen’s heroic eyes as he tells the story of the battle for Laifeng Mountain. where the Japanese were dug into defensive lines. Inch by murderous inch the CEF crawled up the mountainside to reclaim the strategic advantage. At the foot of the mountain is a 53,000 square metre cemetery where rest the 10,000 CEF soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice. Even now, decades later, Lu’s voice shakes with emotion, as he remembers the comrades who fell around him. Every few days Lu Caiwen visits the graveyard to lay chrysanthemums in memory of his fallen comrades. Their incredible courage and dedication to the cause were a major turning point in the war. Thanks to them the back door route into China was closed.

We don’t give enough historical credit to the Chinese role in the defeat of Fascism. The Chinese denied Japan control of valuable resources. Chinese resistance meant that Japanese troops had to stay in China, which allowed American and Russian allies vital breathing space to focus on the defeat of Germany. History should remember Mr Lu and his comrades for their part in freeing the world from the plague of fascism.

But the bonds of friendship stretch far beyond this. Listening to Lu you remember that almost at exactly the same time he crawled his way up Laifeng Mountain under murderous fire from the enemy, 11,000 kilometres away in central Italy, my grandfather, Alfred Nash, was crawling up another mountain, called Monte Cassino, under equally withering gunfire from the German army. Monte Cassino was as pivotal in the war in western Europe as Laifeng was in the war in Asia. When I sat next to Mr Lu in his Tengchong home in 2019 I knew my grandfather was there in the room, listening as attentively as I was. They shared the same slightly mischievous twinkle in their eyes, maybe the light in the eyes of those who have looked on the brutality of war and know better than us, the precious everyday beauty of peace.

The author and Mr Lu Caiwen

Look, it’s dusk outside and right on time the train is pulling into Shanghai Hongqiao station. We’ve completed our high speed embrace of a country and its people. We’ve arrived in the city where in July 1921 the rebirth of this great nation started. Gather round friends of China, new histories of understanding and harmony are waiting to be written.

The author welcomes you to join him on a 高铁 – gāotiě – high speed train tour of China

Chinese New Year 2 -Wanderlust

Heshun Town – 立春 – Li Chun, the first day of Spring, 2024

As I write this, it’s a day in China called 立春, Li Chun, the beginning of spring. Let’s first of all take a moment to appreciate a culture that has a celebration day for not just the 4 seasons but for 24 different seasonal days during the agrarian year. This ‘Li Chun’ I’m in an ancient town in Yunnan province called Heshun, near the city of Tengchong. On this particular morning the Yunnan sun is shining, the Yunnan birds are chirruping and the excited hum of tourist chatter is in every corner of the town. Quite rightly Heshun is on the bucket list of every Chinese traveller. Now it’s the Spring Festival and together with the obligatory home town trip, there is nothing the Chinese people love more than to travel.

And there’s the theme for our Blog today. We British and we Chinese share a love of travel. In English we talk about ‘itchy feet’. In Chinese there is an exact equivalent ‘an itchy heart’. Life is full of 阴阳, yinyang harmonies of opposites isn’t it? Both the British and the Chinese are deeply home loving, and yet full of this curiosity to see what lies around the corner. It’s the first day of Spring and the atmosphere here in Heshun could be exactly described by the opening lines of Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury Tales’.

And smale foweles maken melodye,
And small fowls make melody,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye
Those that sleep all the night with open eyes

So priketh hem Nature in hir corages,
So Nature incites them in their hearts,

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

Then folk long to go on pilgrimages.”

Heshun ~ “And bathed every veyne in swich licóur,

Of which vertú engendred is the flour”

(Chaucer’s Prologue)

We shouldn’t get hung up on the idea of pilgrimage. Chaucer certainly doesn’t. These lines clearly link travel to natural impulses as much as any religious motivation. And don’t you think there is a sense in which travel is a modern cure for a kind of sickness, the sickness of the stress of routine jobs, in uniform cities, following regulated timetables and working long hours. In Britain from the 1930’s we have the folk memory of ‘worker’s holidays’ with charabancs (coaches) of labouring families heading off to the seaside to recharge their batteries.

I believe the curative powers of travel go even deeper than that. Let’s drop in on a poem by another British poet, William Wordsworth. I don’t think they’d thank me for it, but the British romantics were very much proto-tourists, always packing a portmanteau before heading off to Devon or the Lake District for a spot of sightseeing. And after one such jaunt Wordsworth wrote the following lines,

But oft, in lonely rooms, and ‘mid the din

Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;

And passing even into my purer mind

With tranquil restoration:—feelings too

Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,

As have no slight or trivial influence

On that best portion of a good man’s life.’

(and ‘good woman’s life’ I will add!)

What I feel Wordsworth is describing here is a ‘secular spiritualism’ which we’ve all adapted into our cultural lives to survive industrial urbanisation. How many times how you found yourself saying while travelling, ‘I’ll treasure this memory when I’m back at work!’ Wordsworth could never have predicted photos or postcards but these are both forms of ‘tranquil restorations’ aren’t they?

Heshun – Tranquil Recollections

Let’s find an equivalent in England for Li Chun, let’s say Spring Bank holiday and pop over to any picturesque village or any scenic landscape, and we’ll find travellers doing exactly what our Chinese friends are doing this morning, curating their own set of memories for later ‘tranquil restoration’. Look closer and we’ll even see the same characters- the family towing kids who hate the history but love the snacks, the romantic couple looking for the next idyllic backdrop for their love, the solo traveller laden with high definition photographic equipment for gathering more refined recollections.

So let’s join them and immerse ourselves in impressions of Heshun. When I’m back in grey workaday Beijing there is no doubt in my mind that memories of Heshun will return to lighten my spirits. Imagine if you will for a moment the most achingly English of villages. For me this would be somewhere in my birth area of Wessex, somewhere like Lacock, if you’ve been lucky enough to visit there. Heshun is all of that and more in a timeless Chinese version. I’m convinced that if you asked AI to create images of a typical ancient Chinese town, every picture the computer produced would be a pale imitation of Heshun.

First of all Heshun is blessed by its location. It’s on the outskirts of a busy modern city, Tengchong, which means it’s easily accessible, but unlike another famous Yunnan ancient town called Dali, it hasn’t been swallowed up by progress. It’s in a fertile valley, so surrounded by fields full of glowing emerald vegetables most of the year round. It’s backed by low mountains which are often mist-clouded in the early mornings. It’s wonderfully car free so we either have to park and walk into the town itself or jump aboard the little electric powered tourist carts (like elongated golf buggies) that are now ubiquitous at every Chinese tourist attraction. We’re experienced SACU wanderers, close to the people, so let’s walk.

As soon as we pass the obligatory shopping parade at the entrance, we stroll under a gate, round a corner and into wonderland. Just behind a small stream of crystal clear mountain water, Heshun is painted picturesquely, whitewashed houses gently climbing up a low hill. In fact the old name of the town means ‘along the river’. There’s a choice of two bridges to cross the water, both in the characteristic rounded style, called in Chinese ‘arch bridges’. In fact locally the two bridges are called ‘rainbow bridges’ because of their graceful arch shapes.

Heshun ~ rainbow bridge

Over the rainbow’s back we go. Now we have a choice. We can stroll along the river’s side. We will go past a range of typical houses. Most date from the Ming or Qing dynasty. Some are half wooden, with the charm of carved features. Most have pure white-washed walls. Look up into the eaves and you’ll see painted panels in the Chinese style. The rooves are covered in rounded grey tiles, that are like the linked scales of myriads of lizards resting on the hillside, taking in the spring sun. And every roof ends in the gentle upturned eaves that makes it seem as if it’s about to take flight. The architecture then is a harmony composed of yellow sandy mud walls, plaster work gleaming with white-wash, a forest of carved wood. And of course all along the waterfront are those reflections. The floating shadows of the walls, accompanied by the decorative motifs of abundant Yunnan flowers.

The second route leads you up into the town itself. Hands up who remembers the famous Hovis ‘boy on a bike’ bread advert with the lad delivering loaves up the cobbled streets of a nostalgic town (actually Shaftesbury -in Wessex of course!). Well the streets, or rather alleyways, of Heshun all carry this effect. The narrow streets are all still laid out according to the original design when traffic was either pedestrian or at the most pack horses. In fact Heshun became wealthy in the past as a trading town. The two great products of this area are tea and jade. In the Ming and Qing the narrow cobbled alleys of Heshun were the start of merchandise routes going south or north into South Asia, Central Asia and beyond. The same houses are still there nestled around the alleyways and stores selling tea and jade still predominate, but now laid out in attractive display cases for tourists. The sheer number of alleyways spreads out the tourists. Even on a busy day there are moments when you have an empty alley all to yourselves and can indulge the ghosts of the past. There are even Chinese ‘Hovis’ moments as someone comes up the alley, carrying goods on either end of a bamboo pole.

Heshun ~ winding narrow streets

Heshun is not the only place in China that will be experiencing an upturn in tourism during this period known both as the Winter Holiday (hánjià) and Spring Festival (Chūn Jié). Every area of China is cleverly developing a natural resource or a feature of local culture, or preferably both, into an attractive proposition for Chinese wanderlust. The biggest sensation of the New Year so far has been the Harbin Snow-Ice World which has seen more than 3 million visitors venturing into China’s frozen north-east to enjoy ice sculptures and a range of other tourist activities which make imaginative use of this north easterly city’s biggest resource – ice! Shanghai has its famous Yuyuan Gardens Lantern show. This consists of a range of sculpted lanterns showing a range of Chinese and international themes and then a multimedia lantern extravaganza in the evening. In the far south of China in Guangzhou they specialise in vibrant lion and dragon dances. There is also a famous fireworks display scheduled for the first day of the Spring Festival.

Harbin Snow and Ice Festival (image courtesy of CGTN)

All of this internal domestic tourism is a significant part of the strength of consumer sector economics in China. You see this as you walk around Heshun. Of course the stores are as popular as the gift shops would be in an English tourist centre. But there are also opportunities for growers and producers to tempt travellers with local fruit, vegetables or delicacies, all sold from street corner stalls. In the mountains near Heshun an enterprising group of farmers and villagers have turned a micro climate where the plum trees blossom slightly earlier than other local areas into a thriving business which even boasts its own glass walkway, one of the must-haves of any up and coming tourist attraction in China. An informal farmer’s market has sprung up around the fields of snowy spring blossom. Dai Bin, president of the China Tourism Academy, has predicted that total domestic travel will exceed 6 billion visits in 2024 and domestic tourism revenue is likely to surpass 6 trillion yuan.

To conclude by stepping back a little from these staggering statistics, what I find amongst my Chinese friends is a passion for the cultural aspects of travel that is every bit as strong as that of British people. In Britain this spirit is represented by organisations such as the National Trust, one of whose founders declared in 1895

The need of quiet, the need of air, the need of exercise, and..the sight of sky and of things growing seem human needs, common to all men” – Miss Octavia Hill ( and ‘all women’ I will add!)

In China increasingly the central government has provided a policy framework of protections for local tangible and intangible culture, for example through the ‘Intangible Cultural Heritage Law of People’s Republic of China’ which was implemented in 2011 and which provided for the protection of traditional etiquette and the celebration of festivals in ancient villages. Amongst both our peoples, there is a shared love of ‘cultural heritage’ which is called in Chinese ‘文化遗产’ or ‘wénhuà yíchǎn’.

As the spring of 2024 opens up a longing for travel and new travel opportunities for people of both countries, let’s hope for deeper curiosity and knowledge of each other’s fascinating ‘ wénhuà yíchǎn’. To end with what I hope is an appropriate Chinese phrase – ‘游兴勃发, yóuxìng bófā, or as we call it in English – ‘wanderlust’.

游兴勃发, yóuxìng bófā ~ wanderlust!

(Original photographs by the author)

Changing faces of Chengdu

The ‘Changing Faces’ show, from Sichuan Opera

For the last week I have travelled with Grade 9 and Grade 10 students from my school in the city of Chengdu, which is the capital of the south-westerly province of Sichuan. You’ll be familiar with the name from countless restaurants in England claiming to serve ‘Szechuan’ dishes. It is not my job to act as an advertising agent for ‘Travel China’ so I’ll get the publicity out of the way immediately. If you have the chance to visit this fascinating location, please do so!

In this blog we are in the business of building bridges of understanding between the people of China and the people of Britain, so let’s explore links and connections between Chengdu and England.

Du Fu Caotang

First the poetry! Thanks to the tireless and inspiring work of our SACU President, Michael Wood, the great poet 杜甫, Du Fu, is getting better known to English language readers. Du Fu lived in the Tang Dynasty era from 712 to 770, but he is a living presence in Chinese culture today. I first came across his poems being recited and discussed by my students. One of the key characteristics of Du Fu’s work is that he is a ‘poet of exile’ whose art was refined by years of living as a misplaced refugee during the time that the violence of the An Lushan rebellion (755-763) destroyed the peace of the Tang and effected the lives of Chinese people at all levels of society.

In his excellent new book, ‘In the Footsteps of Du Fu’, Micheal expertly locates Du Fu’s writing in place and time, following his wanderings in central and southern China. How excited and humbled I was as I rolled south on the luxury of the modern high speed G308 train from Beijing to Chengdu, to follow almost page by page, the poet’s journeys, experiences and their expression in poetry.

In Chengdu the students and I visited 杜甫草堂, Du Fu Caotang, a park and museum dedicated to the poet, in an area where Du Fu built a cottage in 760 and found (temporary) sanctuary from the war. Michael Wood’s chapter on this is particularly memorable because he emphasises that many Chinese people, and not just the ‘intellectual elite’ still feel a living connection to the poet and his works. My version of this was to organise a bilingual reading of two of the poems, enthusiastically supported in Chinese by one of my students, at two particularly evocative locations in the park. Not only were there no disapproving or cynical looks, but even a small and appreciative gathering of Chinese visitors who politely applauded at the end of our improvisation. I hope the poet himself would have approved. As to the beauty of the surroundings, if I were the spirit of Du Fu you would find me there every balmy dusk evening, drinking a tea and performing my verses for anyone with the time to listen.

Personally I think to talk of Du Fu as the ‘Chinese Shakespeare’ or the ‘Chinese Dante’ is irrelevant and even patronising. Du Fu deserves to be recognised as a profound poet of the human condition on terms at once Chinese and universal. It is scandalous that his poetry is not more widely appreciated in western schools and universities.

Exquisite gardens that mirror Du Fu’s artistry

Sanxingdui

The second connection concerns history. Chengdu is home to one of the most fascinating Bronze age cultures in the world – the Sanxingdui, which flourished in this area in the eleventh and twelfth century BCE. This year an amazing modern museum opened on the site of the Sanxingdui excavations, a museum whose own beautiful design seems to have been inspired by the artistry and ingenuity of the Bronze Age ancestors. The museum is expertly curated with audio tours and signage in English throughout. The range of artefacts on display is spectacular, displaying an artistry capable of creations from minute but detailed bronze animals to a soaring nearly 4 metre tall ‘holy tree’.

Two thoughts struck me as I wandered and wondered, both with an international dimension. The first was how much of the creativity here was inspired by connections to the natural world. Animal forms are everywhere, birds, snakes, buffalo and tigers, sometimes twisting together with human bodies. Anyone familiar with Bronze Age art from across the world will recognise a similar motif, perhaps born from a renewed fascination with nature as city lifestyles replaced older agricultural modes of thought.

The second is the way that the malleability of metals such as bronze and gold seemed to fire the imaginations of a generation of smiths across the Bronze Age globe. Exhibits such as the ‘Standing figure holding a dragon shaped sceptre’ or ‘Figure riding a beast with a Zun on top’ (‘zun’ is a religious vessel) are Dali-esque in their imaginings. In the Aegean, in the near-East and closer to home in the expression of British Bronze Age metal-workers we can find similar inspirations from the liquid flow of molten metal into the solid forms of a mould. There are masks of fine beaten gold which seem to connect directly to the gold work of the mask-makers of Mycenae.

Just like the artistry of Du Fu the diverse faces of Sanxingdui culture should be more widely recognised.

Bronze figure from Sanxingdui

Pandas!

No article about Chengdu can be complete without pandas. Panda pictures, panda fashions and panda accessories are inescapable everywhere in Chengdu because it is the site of the China Panda Research and Conservation Centre. I approached the visit with some trepidation because I’ve had a visceral hatred of zoos ever since reading Ted Hughes’ fierce poem ‘Jaguar’ at school. I needn’t have worried. Pandas are natives of the dense wooded forests in the bowl of mountains surrounding Sichuan. In particular they need bamboo because 90–98 percent of the panda’s diet consists of the leaves, shoots, and stems of this grass. And that is exactly what the conservation centre consists of, a landscaped bamboo forest threaded with the paths that city dwelling humans need to move around. In fact so successful is the natural environment that the notoriously shy pandas are quite difficult to see, often nothing more than a glimpse of black and white fur bobbing up and down, munching contentedly behind dense leafy screens.

Furthermore this place acts as a highly effective scientific research centre, funds boosted by the flocks of adoring panda fans and has produced scientific findings on topics as diverse as panda ecology, management, nutrition, behaviour, breeding, disease and heredity. The research has benefitted not just pandas but success in preserving the rich bio-diversity of the whole area.

And here is another connection from Sichuan to the world. It is one of the top 25 most biodiverse areas on Earth, with more than 10,000 alpine plant species and 1,200 vertebrate species. It’s no exaggeration to say that the work of places like the Panda Research Centre to conserve this local biodiversity is of critical importance to us all.

Sichuan is one of the top 25 most biodiverse areas on Earth

The Spice of Life

And so to food. It’s humbling to think that while the panda survives all its life on just one source of nutrition, we humans have developed culinary systems with a dazzling array of flavours, textures and ingredients. The sales pitch of popularised ‘Szechuan’ dishes in the west is that they are ‘spicy’. There’s a toehold of truth in that, but it doesn’t do credit to the range of flavours that constitute the spice. To start with there’s not a single Sichuan spice, but combinations of fennel, pepper, aniseed, cinnamon, clove, chilli and Sichuan pepper. Broad bean chili paste called ‘dòubànjiàng’, shallots, ginger and garlic are also commonly used.

The spice is complemented by the quality, freshness and range of ingredients used. Due to its climate, crops and livestock range from those of subtropical climates to those of a cool temperate zone. One of the best ways to appreciate this is through the culinary phenomenon that is Sichuan ‘huo guo’ or hotpot. Reduced to its essentials the hot pot experience consists of a shared bowl of broth where diners collectively boil and consume a range of fresh ingredients. It’s common for the broth pot to have two sections – one non-spicy, often mushroom based and the other fiery crimson with spice, including the humble but mouth numbing ‘málà’ peppercorns that are absolutely characteristic of Sichuan cuisine.

Hot pot is healthy and nutritious because the ingredients are all boiled there and then, preserving their vitamin content. There’s a rich range of oils to flavour the foods you fish out of the pot, but those are to your own taste. And above all it’s a wonderfully communal experience, unlike any western dining that I know. One of my favourite Chinese phrases is ‘xiāngpēnpēn’ which very approximately can be used to describe a rich confection of food flavours and fragrances and I defy anyone to eat hotpot without being drawn in to an equally ‘xiāngpēnpēn’ conversation.

Which allows me to conclude with a person to person anecdote. Most of the ingredients for hot pot are easily available in Chinese supermarkets in England, including the broth bases. You can also buy electric versions of the hot pots themselves. In summers in England, in bbq season, I would set up my hot pot in the garden on a table outdoors with the prepared ingredients ranged around it. It wasn’t long before the ‘xiāngpēnpēn’ drifted up over the garden fences. Nor was it long before the fascinated faces of my neighbours would pop up over the fence tops, noses twitching. And so I had bowls prepared to pass to them over the fencing, for our own English back garden version of the Sichuan communal dining experience. A little corner of north London that is forever Chengdu!

A Sichuan Hot Pot

Let’s finish with a few lines from Du Fu, describing his Chengdu home:

I’ve chosen

this quiet woods and river bank

outside the city, well away

from business, dust, entanglements

here where clear water,

rinses away a traveller’s sadness.”

‘Siting a House’ ~ trans David Young, 2008.

The author at Du Fu’s Cottage in Chengdu