Chapter from the book "23 Reasons to Fall in Love with Hangzhou", written by Natasa Vujicic
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After a few weeks of settling in, one Saturday morning we finally made it to West Lake (西湖). I didn’t like it at all. I am pretty sure you won’t either.
It was crowded and noisy. We tried to take a ride on the electric car that circles the lake, but it kept stopping abruptly and honking at people to get out of the path. To take a boat was close to impossible. Even if we managed to buy tickets (which I doubted we could), we had no idea which boat was taking which route, where to see the boarding times, or how to get back if we stepped off the boat to visit one of the islands.
So we rented bikes. Mine was quite worn and barely functioning. The basket in the front was full of someone else’s garbage. I didn’t dare touch it with my hands, so it just stood there, bouncing around the basket as I was riding. We were sharing the lane with thousands of cars and millions of people. Literally. Cars and buses kept honking, e-bikes were silently creeping up from nowhere, and it was all we could do to navigate the path without bumping into anyone. To top it all off, my husband and son were way faster than I was. I kept pedaling like crazy just to keep up. In the end I gave up, called out (more than once) to the boys, and we parked the bikes to join the crowd of people slowly moving forward. That particular scene always replays in my mind when I hear the phrase “sea of people” (人山人海).
As we passed different areas of West Lake, I was more than annoyed by it all. I didn’t like the plastic squeaky toys being sold everywhere, the people pushing me with their elbows, or the smell of anise coming from the stalls selling eggs cooked in tea. Most of all, I didn’t like the fact that I could not find coffee.
How little did I know back then? A friend of mine (who lived around West Lake all her life) once said, “It takes great courage to go out during days like these.” She was talking about weekends and holidays.
Eventually, we reached the Grand Hyatt and went in for an afternoon tea. Now, that was a different story. Club sandwiches, scones, cupcakes, and coffee, lots of coffee! Heaven! I remember thinking that it is absolutely not worth coming to this place unless you go straight to the Grand Hyatt.
Half a year later, I finally dared to go to the West Lake area again, this time during a work day and early in the morning. West Lake offered different areas and many paths you could choose from. I chose the flat one, starting from the south close to the Leifeng Pagoda (雷峰塔) and then across the Su Causeway (苏堤), because I was pushing the stroller with my baby girl. By that time, I considered myself a half-local. I visited all the major attractions, I got a driving license, I learned how to order mifan (米饭; steamed rice) and chaomian (炒面; fried noodles), and I could count to 100 (slowly and with incorrect pronunciation).
The air was fresh, the early morning sun was reflecting off the surface of the lake, the water was so clear that it felt like you could touch the school of red carp swimming in circles. All around I could see willow trees, round stone bridges, and most important of all, no people. It was magical.
Once I stepped off the Su Causeway, I could hear the traffic noise, but the path in front of me was clear. On the left I could see wooden Chinese pavilions with small groups of people playing cards and drinking tea. On the right I could see the lake covered in lotus leaves, and in the distance I could see the Broken Bridge (断桥). Somewhere around the time I reached it, I recognized the path we had taken six months earlier during our infamous bike ride. This time, it was a different experience. Calm and unhurried. I slowly passed a section of the asphalt where symbols were written, wondering what that was about, when I saw an older man dipping a big brush in a bucket of water. He was wearing a traditional loose shirt in the style of the Tang Dynasty, with a Mandarin collar and knot buttons. He was using lake water to write Chinese characters on the path. Behind him I could see other women and men, dressed in similar clothes, moving slowly in groups, following the same choreography. They were holding swords and practicing tai chi. The whole scene seemed surreal, and left me standing and gaping at them for quite some time. I was mesmerized by the lake and its early-morning visitors. And stunned by how different it felt compared to my first time there.
With newfound courage I decided to have a West Lake–style breakfast. I ordered something that looked like yoghurt - laosuannai (老酸奶), and something wrapped in bamboo leaves - zongzi粽子(sticky rice, wrapped in bamboo leaves, filled with red dates, red beans, egg yolk or pork). It could have been because I was still under the impression of the lake, or because I had walked for hours, but it was one of the best meals I’ve ever had. In the distance I could see Baochu Pagoda (保俶塔), West Lake’s standing guard. It was outstanding, like something from the old legends. It looked like it had been there from the beginning of time.
If you are lucky enough to have a chance to visit West Lake, don’t focus on ticking places off the list. You can take photos off any of the bridges. They are all beautiful; it does not have to be the Broken Bridge (the most popular attraction in the West Lake area, famous for “The Legend of the White Snake”). You don’t have to elbow your way down to Lou Wai Lou (楼外楼) to try the Beggar’s Chicken and you don’t have to climb the Leifeng Pagoda to see the view. You can listen to the story about the Xu Xian and the White Snake (許仙 and 白娘子 or 白素貞) anywhere else. West Lake is so much more than that. It is about the way of life and about the opportunity to immerse yourself into something pure and unique. Go there early, try the food from the street stalls, get away from the crowds, sit on the bench. Look at the people. You will find everyone (literally everyone) smiling back at you. Wherever you are coming from, slowly you will feel a part of this amazing early morning West Lake community. And it will keep pulling you in, you will keep coming back, just like we did.
When it comes to the West Lake district, it is impossible to describe it in a whole book, let alone in one chapter. Head toward the tea hills, visit the Tea Museum, and watch the tea ceremony. Book a place in a bed and breakfast and stay out late in the night listening to the cicadas. Hike through the bamboo forest, discover the hidden temples. Visit the caves, eat together with monks, stand in line for ceremonial Laba congee (腊八粥) in front of the Lingyin Temple (灵隐寺). Take your eyes off the phone or guidebook—what you are looking for is right there in front of you.
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