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The Butterfly Lovers of Hangzhou

Hangzhou China

by Lesley Hebert 

As rain splatters loudly on the foggy plexiglass windows, our tour boat putters loudly across the water. I stretch up from my low seat at the back of the boat to peer at the watery world outside. At the same time I strain to listen to our tour guide at the far end of the boat as she tries to make herself heard above the thrumming of the engine.

We are in the Yangtze River Delta, on Hangzou’s West Lake. Although it is difficult to appreciate on such a grey, misty day, this UNESCO World Heritage site has been famous for its picturesque beauty throughout Chinese history. Surprisingly, it maintained that reputation in spite of a natural tendency to silt up and through alternating historical cycles of neglect and restoration. During the Tenth Century era of the Ten Warring Kingdoms, for example, weeds completely covered the lake and it almost reverted to marshland. However, after it was cleaned up and dredged it became a favorite imperial vacation spot and a tourist destination for foreign visitors, including Marco Polo, who travelled to China along the legendary Silk Road.

As I strained to hear, I heard our guide promise to tell the story of the Chinese Romeo and Juliet. Always keen to hear a good historical yarn, especially if it had an element of romance, I was hooked. Eager to learn more, I tried to focus even more closely on our guide’s voice.

She began with a romantic teaser which was a delightful illustration of the Chinese fascination with numbers. Pointing to three grey stone pagodas sticking out of the rain-spattered water, she told us that we were in one of the most romantic spots in China.

“You know,” she said, “that the moon represents romance. Well, this is the home of 33 Moons.”

She explained that each of the three pagodas was pierced with five round holes. On the night of the mid-autumn Moon Festival, candlelight shining from these fifteen moonlike holes created fifteen reflections, doubling the number of moons to thirty. The full moon in the sky and its reflection on the lake increased the number to 32.

“And the full moon in your heart,” she finished with a flourish, “makes 33 moons!”

With magical visions of floating moons in my head and newly aware of the moon in my heart, my imagination floated away from the chill, misty present to a Moon Festival celebration on a warm, clear September night. Then, suitably prepared by our guide’s introduction, I listened eagerly to the tale of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, also known as the Butterfly Lovers.

It seems that there was once a rich merchant named Zhu who was blessed with eight fine sons. When his ninth child was born, he was delighted to have a beautiful daughter. This was Zhu Yingtai, who soon became his favorite child. He preferred her over all of her brothers, and indulged her every whim.

Chinese woman with bound feetBefore the modern era, young Chinese girls from wealthy families would have had their feet bound. When a girl was about four years old, a professional footbinder would break her tender foot bones, turn her four small toes under the soles of her feet, and bandage them tightly. As the child grew and developed, her instep would be virtually bent in two, and the growth of her deformed and tightly bandaged feet would remain stunted. As a fully grown woman, she would be forever destined to walk painfully on the tiny, four inch long “lotus feet” or “lily feet” which were considered the ultimate standard of feminine beauty.

Not wanting to see her suffer, however, Yingtai’s father did not force her to undergo this horrific procedure, and her feet were allowed to grow naturally.

Yingtai was also determined to get an education. However, families generally focused on educating their sons for future careers and education for girls was not a priority. But Yingtai continued to beg her father to allow her to get an education until he gave in to her pleas. Because her feet were unbound, she was able to attend school disguised as a boy. There she became close friends with Liang Shanbo, a scholarly student from a poor family who was determined to study hard and succeed in life.

Mandarin ducksYingtai fell in love with Shanbo and tried to share her feelings with him. At first, she tried subtle hints, but without success. Totally focussed on his studies and completely unaware that Yingtai was a girl, Shanbo did not pick up on any of her clues. When the two of them were walking by the lake, Yingtai pointed to a pair of mandarin ducks swimming nearby, pointing out that these lovely little ducks, who the Chinese believe mate for life, were symbols of a loving and faithful marriage. But Shanbo still did not understand what she was trying to tell him.

Finally, Yingtai told him directly how much she loved him and proved she was a girl by showing him her pierced ears, which were hidden under her hair. Shanbo fell deeply in love with Yingtai, but their love was doomed because Yingtai’s father had arranged for her to marry into a wealthy family. Inevitably, Yingtai had to return home to prepare for her marriage, and the lovers were forced to say farewell.

The sky darkens and the black clouds above us weep a waterfall of tears as our boat reaches the far shore. In front of us, a small stone bridge crosses a narrow stretch of water framed by weeping willows. This, our guide tells us, is China’s Bridge of Sighs. It is said that it took the lovers six hours to cross the bridge as they said their reluctant goodbyes, giving this bridge the nickname “longest short bridge” in all of China.

Shinbo died of a broken heart and was buried by the road between Yingtai’s village and that of her future husband.

Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai monumentOn the day of her wedding, Yingtai dressed in her bridal gown and climbed into the litter which was to carry her to her new home. A storm forced the wedding party to stop for shelter near the spot where Shinbo was buried. Yingtai climbed out of her litter and ran over to her true love’s grave. Magically, the tomb opened up and Yingtai leaped in and disappeared. Finally, the storm ceased, the sun came out and the wedding party went to investigate. They found no sign of Yingtai. Instead, they saw a pair of butterflies flying away together. It is said that these were the souls of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, finally united in death.

It was still raining that evening when we returned to West Lake for Memories of Hangzou, a state-of-the-art extravaganza designed for the 2016 G20 summit by the team responsible for the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics.

I was absolutely awed by the show, which was spectacular even in the pouring rain. On the far shore of the lake a larger-than-life full moon rose over a brilliantly-lit pavilion. As its reflection shone back from the surface of the lake, I was reminded of our guide’s description of the 33 September moons. By the light of the giant moon, at least a hundred identically costumed dancers appeared, seeming to walk on water as they swayed and spun across a stage submerged a few centimetres below the surface of the lake. While a live string orchestra played, accompanied by a piano which had been rolled out over the water, a host of dancers performed against a backdrop of multicoloured laser beams which cast ever-changing patterns onto a background of dancing fountains.

The highlight of the evening was the dance of the Butterfly Lovers. I watched two dancers skim across the water dwarfed by the shining light display behind them. A brilliant kaleidoscopic rainbow morphed into a giant multi-colored fan. Then, just as in the story, the rain ceased as the fan morphed into a myriad of iridescent butterflies

This delightful performance was followed by the grand finale, a stirring rendition of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Nothing could have provided a more fitting tribute to the undying love of Zhu Yingtai and Liang Shinbo, or a better ending to our time in Hangzou.

If You Go:

Sanitation

Tap water is not safe. Always drink and clean your teeth with bottled water.

Toilets are “squat” style. If this is a problem, you will have to find a handicapped toilet. These might be indicated with the international handicapped symbol although one I used was labeled with a handwritten sign that said “for maimed persons only!”

Bring your own toilet paper and hand sanitizer.


Hangzhou Cultural Day Tour with Authentic Hangzhou Lunch

Transportation

Hangzou is a popular tourist destination with direct flights from Shanghai and Beijing and a high speed train connection from Shanghai.

Documentation

You will need a Chinese visa. Consult your travel agent or local Chinese embassy or consulate before your visit.

China is primarily a cash economy, so you should obtain a supply of Chinese Yuan (also known as RMB) before your trip. Tipping is neither customary nor expected.


Hangzhou Cultural Tour Including Leifeng Pagoda, China National Silk Museum and Qinghefang Cultural Street

About the author:

Lesley Hebert is Simon Fraser University graduate. Retired from teaching English as a second language in the classroom, she now teaches ESL via Skype, and writes on-line articles which reflect a lively, inquiring mind and a love of travel, history and culture. Read more of Lesley’s articles at www.infobarrel.com/Users/HLesley

Photos credits:

Mandarin ducks © Francis C. Franklin / CC-BY-SA-3.0 / CC BY-SA

Monument to Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai near the Tombe di Giulietta by Andrijko Z. / CC BY-SA 

 

 

Tagged With: China travel, Hangzhou, Liang Shinbo and Zhu Yingtai Filed Under: Asia Travel

Mysteries of the Hangzhou Night Market

Hangzhou night market

Hangzhou, China

by Rick Neal

A whiff of spicy, fried dumplings and the hum of human voices tell me that I’m close to the downtown night market in Hangzhou, China. I turn a corner and witness swarms of people jostling around a vast array of merchandise strewn across ramshackle, wooden tables. The crowds continue down the road as far as I can see. Undeterred by the cold drizzle, buyers and sellers shriek at each other as they plead, beg, and bargain. Multi-coloured hanging lamps lend the place a surreal atmosphere.

It is the low season for tourism, so other than myself there are only a few westerners out this evening. Vendors beckon with cries of “Hello, hello!” and “CD, DVD!” They are relentless, thrusting cracked plates and crumbling vases in my face as they scream, “Ming Dynasty!”

Chinese night marketThe downtown night market is the largest of several that appear every evening around Hangzhou, a city of six million situated about two hundred kilometers south of Shanghai. The stalls are loaded with enticing jumbles of collectibles along with the usual clothing, electronics, and houseware items found at other night markets. Pewter incense burners, ancient brass padlocks, and clunky old cameras compete with silk pyjamas, cooking utensils, and pirated CDs. None of it is really antique, but if you’re prepared to haggle you can pick up an unusual keepsake for the price of a dozen pot stickers.

I had ventured out that evening in search of two items: a birthday present for my sister and a wallet for myself.

After an hour of pushing and shoving among the chaotic stalls, I find what I seek: a pile of wallets crammed between a mound of padded bras and stacks of bootleg Austin Powers DVDs. I inspect a black leather model with a “Pierre Cardin” label. I’m pretty sure it’s a knockoff, but the quality looks decent.

“Best quality, best price,” a tall, willowy man croaks from across the table.

I coolly examine the wallet. Finally, I ask him the price. “Duo shao qian?”

He looks a bit surprised by my Chinese, but answers in English. “One hundred thirty renminbi.”

His asking price is twenty-five dollars. If I was a tourist I may have thought this was fair value. But I’m not a tourist. I’m a resident. I’ve recently begun a one-year stint as an ESL teacher. Earlier this evening my co-workers had warned me about the Chinese bartering system. They said that the price quoted to a foreigner is usually four times what is asked from a local. After several minutes of haggling the unsuspecting tourist negotiates a sum twenty percent lower and walks away thinking they have scored a bargain.

With this in mind, I retort, “ San shi kwai.” I’ve offered thirty renminbi, less than a quarter of what he’s asking.

“Ah!” he yelps, recoiling like I’d kicked him in the crotch. He folds his arms and mutters something unintelligible.

He makes a game effort to look offended. His lower lip trembles. He throws an old pocket watch and some fridge magnets on the table in front of me. “These thirty kwai,” he snorts.

It’s my turn to be indignant. I slam the wallet on the table, shake my head, and then walk away.

I’ve gone no more than twenty feet when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Okay. Thirty kwai, no problem.” He smiles and nods, as if our previous conversation had been a big misunderstanding.

I return to the stall and pay for my wallet. As I count out three faded ten renminbi notes I can’t resist feeling proud. I’ve stood my ground and won. And I’ve picked up a genuinely fake Pierre Cardin wallet for five bucks.

Chinese dumplingsBuoyed by my shopping triumph, I pick up a bag of steamed pork dumplings from a street vendor and move on in search of something for my sister. A nearby stall looks intriguing. Amongst the clutter of goods are rusty tobacco boxes, wooden statues of goddesses, and worn ivory chopsticks. It looks like the vendor, a squat, older man, has cleaned out the family chest and put the best – or maybe this is the worst of it – up for sale.

He smiles and holds up a glass perfume jar. “This very old! Early Qing dynasty! Two hundred kwai! Okay?”

At second glance I realize that he isn’t overweight. His clothes make him look that way. Everything he wears – his frayed turtleneck sweater, his stained, blue jacket, even his sneakers – are too large for his slight frame. With his wide grin and wire-rimmed glasses he looks like the Dalai Lama.

He nods anxiously. His manner is less aggressive than the other hawkers but none of his merchandise appeals to me. I shrug and walk away, disappointed that I can’t do business with this precocious little man.

To my surprise he runs after me, touches my arm, and then scampers over to the alleyway entrance behind his stall. He turns and motions for me to follow. “Come, please!” he pleads, “Come, look! No problem!”

At first I wonder if he’s trying to lead me into an ambush, where his friends are waiting to rob me. I decide he’s too affable for something so sinister.

Hangzhou streetMaybe I’m being enticed into a smoke-filled opium den where Chinese drug lords play Mahjong and sexy Chinese girls wear qi paos – satin dresses with slits up the side. My curiosity gets the better of me. I follow him into the murky alley.

He scurries a few feet ahead, looking back every few seconds. Overflowing, stinking garbage cans line the alley walls. A rat darts from behind one, nearly touching my shoe. It starts to rain harder.

We come to a rotting, wooden door. My guide raps on it and hisses something through a narrow crack. A female-sounding voice answers shrilly. The door opens with a creak. He turns and motions for me to enter.

I step inside a small, musty room. The temperature is scarcely warmer than it is outside. A dim light bulb hangs from the center of the ceiling. A rickety table and chairs serve as the only furniture.

In a second room an old woman crouches over a hotplate. A cigarette dangles from her mouth. I recognize the pungent smell and sound of sizzling pork. She pays us no attention. Tinny-sounding music screeches from an unseen radio.

My host (who tells me his name is Mister Lu) brings a tiny, cardboard box from the other room and places it on the table. He opens it carefully, producing an object wrapped in old, yellowed newspaper. I can see his breath as he removes the paper to reveal a small, cracked vase decorated in blue Chinese characters. He offers me the vase. “Ming dynasty,” he whispers.

I grasp it cautiously, turning it over several times. The cracks extend over its surface; their uniformity suggests they were part of the original design, but whether they were made intentionally or not they add to its allure. I have no idea as to its age but I doubt that it’s Ming dynasty. Whatever it’s origin, it is indeed a thing of beauty.

I return the vase to the table. “Duo shao qian?” I inquire.

Mister Lu clasps his hands, grinning and jiggling like a bobble-head. “Two thousand American money.”

I laugh. I have no idea what the vase is worth but I know that his first price will be nowhere near his best.

He twitters like a shy schoolgirl. “Sorry, sorry. Two thousand Chinese money.” He has dropped his price by eighty percent.

I pick up the vase and feign another inspection while I consider my options. If this is an elaborate ruse that he stages nightly he has gone to a great deal of trouble. It’s possible that he really has pulled it from the family chest or even that it’s stolen. Still, I’m not about to lay out four hundred dollars for something that may be worthless. I also worry about getting it out of the country if it is genuine.

“Wo mingtian lai,” I tell him. “Wo mingtian lai wo pengyou.” I’ve told him that I will return tomorrow with a friend.

Hangzhou deserted streetThe next day I relate my encounter with Mister Lu to a Chinese co-worker, Ling. She agrees to return with me after her class that evening.

The night market is already winding down when we arrive. Many vendors are boxing up their unsold products and folding their tables. I lead Ling to the spot where I first encountered Mister Lu, but his table has vanished. We then proceed down the damp alley to the decaying, wooden door I had passed through the previous evening. I knock loudly but there is no answer.

Dejected, I return to the night market, which is now nearly deserted. The coloured lights are gone. Dimly illuminated by a single street lamp, the shimmering road now looks like any other street in Hangzhou.

 

If You Go:

China Guide: Hangzhou Travel Guide

Private Hangzhou City Tour

The Mostly Recommended Hangzhou City Tour with Authentic Lunch

Eat Like A Local – Hangzhou Night Food Tour

How to get There:
Hangzhou has an airport, but most tourists arrive by train from Shanghai, 150 kms. to the northeast. Speedy trains make the frequent journey to Hangzhou’s impressive new station in about two hours.

When To Go:
The summer months see the largest number of tourists, even thought the weather is unbearably hot and humid. Winters tend to be cold and wet, while Spring and autumn usually offer ideal dry and temperate conditions.

Things To See:

West Lake:
For the Chinese, West Lake is one of China’s most famous tourist attractions. Hordes of tour groups from all over the country descend upon this 3 km. long man-made lake that has become the symbol of Hangzhou. Well manicured gardens and pavilions that are scattered around the lake make for a pleasant daytrip. Early morning is an ideal time to visit, when hundreds of locals converge there to practise tai chi.

Lingyin Temple:
This Buddhist temple, that was originally built in 326 AD, has been destroyed and rebuilt 16 times. Today’s structures are restorations of Qing dynasty buildings. The most impressive is the Great Hall, where you’ll find an imposing 20m-high statue of Siddharta Gautama. Don’t forget to light a stick of incense and say a prayer at the hall entrance.

Places to Eat:
Laiwailou Caiguan is right across the street from West Lake. Famous for its poached fish in sweet vinegar sauce, prices are reasonable if you avoid the really fancy dishes. For cheap eats, check out Yanan Lu near the night market for tasty local cuisine. The Hangzhou and Yintai department stores, located downtown, both have excellent food courts on their upper levels.

About the author:
Rick Neal is a free-lance writer who lives in Vancouver, Canada. He writes short fiction and travel stories. He’s travelled to China, Mexico, Central America, Turkey, and Europe. His dream is to someday write the great Canadian novel.

Photo credits:
Hefang street Hangzhou by David Stanley via Flickr
Chinese night market by Bonkers The Clown / CC BY-SA
Chinese dumplings by Jason Goh from Pixabay
Hangzhou streets by Rick Neal

Tagged With: China travel, Hangzhou Filed Under: Asia Travel

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