A TRIP TO THE WEST LAKE

An old saying: “There is heaven above and Shu-Hang below.” West Lake is the most beautiful and famous place in Hangzhou. I had longed to visit the West Lake for long time. Before I went to college, I lived in Guangdong province. I had no money, no time and no courage to make the trip. But from Shanghai, Hangzhou is only one and a half hours away by train. When I came to college, it seemed my dream would come true. I went to Hangzhou on April fourth last term with three companions, Sol, Eva and Betty. Sol is from Hangzhou, and was forced to be our guide. On the train, I couldn’t hide my excitement. But Sol said: “Don’t be too excited or you’ll be disappointed.” I didn’t listen, although I know there was something in it. I’ve had some experience of that kind. A place you’ve only heard or read about sounds very beautiful, but when you really visit it, you find out it’s actually just everyday place or far from being as beautiful as you thought. But I didn’t think West Lake was the same as them, though, not only because of its great fame, but also because of fascinating tales. Arriving in Hangzhou, we went to Sol’s home. His parents entertained us enthusiastically. After we had lunch, we went to West Lake by bike. Several minutes later, suddenly spreading out in front of me was the West Lake, a large lake. I couldn’t tell if it was happy or disappointed. The West Lake was different from what I had imagined. It didn’t seem very beautiful. It was somewhat coarse. Sol suggested we walk along the Bai-Di and the Shu-Di. Then we would take a whole look at the West Lake as we walked. It was spring; the willow had extended her slim, long branches, swaying in the wind. The peach blossoms had fully bloomed. Looking from this side, the West Lake is surrounded by green mountains on the three other sides, and is cut into three pieces by Bai-Di and Shu-Di. It was calm, with some little ripple spreading from tar away. There were many buildings above water by the lakeside that were restaurants or served tea. They were crowded with people, talking, laughing and playing. There were many travelers, too, especially many girls. They were three or four, taking photos. Their laughter was crisp and clear, like the song of wind-chimer. Their Jiang-Nan dialect was soft and wonderful, like the mild spring wind coming to you. I enjoyed the mountains, water, trees, girls, and the wind. We walked along the lake counter-clockwise under the willow trees and peach blossoms. After a while, Sol said: “That is the view-point ‘Smooth Lake, Autumn Moon’. Let’s go look.” We entered a kiosk. We only saw an ancient stone tablet. There were four dim characters on it: “****”. I was puzzled. Then I looked around. The lake was quiet. Then I understood. On autumn nights, if a bright moon hangs in the sky, and the lake is calm with the moon’s rippling reflection, it becomes the line of poetry “Smooth Lake, Autumn Moon”. We went on to the Bai_Di. The Bai_Di is very wide with a high way. But there were few cars. Several bridges connected the Bai_Di. “The bridge,” Sol told us, “was where Xu_Xian and White_Snake Lady met.” I looked closely. That day was raining, and Xu_Xian had forgothen to take an umbrella with him. At that time he came across two pretty ladies, who lent him an umbrella. One was a Green_Snak and one a White_Snake. It was a tragic love story. All Chinese knew the tale. Suddenly, although it was not raining and I had an umbrella in hand too, I hoped to meet another White_Snake. I really saw her ahead of me, but the person with her wasn’t the Green_Snake but her boyfriend. She was wearing a white skirt and was slender. Her long hair was tied in back with two or three polka doted ribbons. They were walking slowly hand in hand. I could only see her back. But judging from her graceful shadow, she was pretty. She talked with her boyfriend, pointing at some thing ahead, and didn’t turn back. We passed them, I wanted to look at her when I passed, but I didn’t. Then we were ahead of them by two hundred meters. At that time my friends were taking photos. I leaned on a tree and looked back, pretending to look at the city buildings across the lake. When she came close enough, I turned to her. I was dumbfounded. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen: oval face, nice eyes, nose mouth and fringe. I couldn’t turn my eyes away and stood still. The girl looked like a lotus flower, pure and fine. She noticed me, turned to me and smiled. Suddenly I didn’t know where I was. I had a hard time coming back to reality. I walked to over to Sol and sighed: “It is extremely beautiful.” “Really?” Sol said, with pride. I laughed. We took some pictures and rested for a white, and then went on. I couldn’t see the pretty girl. There were many people in the front. We finished the Bai_Di. On a kiosk, I saw another stone tablet, and a girl name, “Shu Xiaoxiao”. “Who is she?” I asked Sol. He shook his head. I said: “maybe she is Shu Dongpo’s sister.” “No,” a man by us said, “she isn’t. Shu Dongpo”s sister is Shu Xiaomei. Shu Xiaoxiao was a singer on the West Lake in ancient history.” “Oh,” I said. I thought of what it was like. There would have been many boats. Rich men hired for drinking, and other boats for girls who sang. On the boats hung many lanterns, and the lights wandered the lake. Laughter, songs, the voices of instruments spread out in harmony with water. The West Lake was a place for playing and traveling. An ancient poem said, “when will be the end of the singing and dancing on the West Lake (西湖歌舞几时休)” I felt sorry for its passing. Albeit it was very decadent, it was very interesting, too. I wished I could see it. We walked on the Shu_Di. There were more trees and flowers. On the right side, many people were rowing canoes, slim and long, the two ends pointed and sharp. They were like fling arrows along the surface of the water when the man pulled the oars back. There was another famous view point on Shu_Di, “the Spring on Shu_Di.” I like here. It’s the best place for walking and resting. We walked slowly and took pictures. After an hour, we got to the end of Shu_Di. I saw the beautiful girl again. She stood facing the lake, with her left hand holding a willow branch, the wind blowing her white skirt. She was slim, and graceful. Her boyfriend wasn’t with her. And I saw he was buying something in the shop. And my trip came to an end. The West Lake is a beautiful place, though it isn’t as beautiful as I imagined. What I imagined was a place for fairies and gods, not for humans. But the West Lake was for people who ate and drank and played by the lake. They were the Hangzhou people. They understood the West Lake more than we who traveled to the West Lake.

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