A Hidden Paradise in Taizhou
I always believe that among any three travelers, I can find a teacher. When it comes to food and travel, I’m always keen and happy to absorb the best from others. Ever since I saw photos of my bestie’s trip to Taizhou, I was instantly smitten by that fairy-tale-like rainbow village.
Cinque Terre in Italy has long been a dream stop on my European journey. In recent years, various reasons kept me from traveling far, so this Chinese version of Cinque Terre had to elbow aside all other destinations and jump to the top of the list for a couple’s getaway!
‘Chunyun’ – the Spring Festival travel rush – is a uniquely Chinese phenomenon. Living in Beijing, we’d never experienced the grandeur of this migration. With an eight-day holiday for Chinese New Year, I didn’t want to just eat and drink the days away. Taizhou was on! Time to witness China’s great migration firsthand!
Taizhou is in the southeast of Zhejiang Province. The high-speed train from Beijing takes nearly eight hours. My husband grumbled about the long ride, so we designed a route with a one-day stopover in Hangzhou on the way there, and a day in Shanghai on the way back.
Hangzhou, here we are again.
Hangzhou holds a special place in our hearts. Years ago, our very first trip together was to Hangzhou. We’ve returned several times since – I’d need to count them calmly by the year to recall the exact number. The scenery is beautiful and the food delicious; that’s the simple, direct reason we keep coming back.
To give Hangzhou more time, we took the earliest train. We registered for a Hangzhou public transport card on board, then took the metro as if we were heading home from work. After arriving at a hotel near Hubin, we dropped off our luggage and immediately set off to find lunch. Outside Hangzhou Restaurant, crowds were massed. I squeezed in to get a number, only to be told they’d stopped handing out tickets. We headed straight to nearby Zhiweiguan and simply ordered steamed soup dumplings (xiaolongbao), crab soup bao, and wontons. Familiar taste, familiar setting. It was already 2 p.m., yet the hall was packed. We didn’t have to hover over occupied tables, but we did have to search hard for seats.
After the meal, we headed to West Lake. Of all our visits, this was the most crowded we’d ever seen. A human wall lined the lake; you couldn’t glimpse the water without pushing to the front. At popular photo spots, we queued for a turn; buying boat tickets meant another queue. Taking a solo photo that wasn’t a group shot was quite a challenge. We drifted with the crowd southward along the shore from the musical fountain. Electric carts inched through the throng, every seat taken. At a corner, we spotted the familiar little pavilion that has appeared in many of our previous West Lake photos.
The road along West Lake, never very wide, had turned into a parking lot. Cars crept forward inch by inch. I secretly congratulated ourselves for not being lazy and choosing to walk.
Passing by the Qianwang Temple, the entrance was a tangle of cars and people. We gave up the impulse to see plum blossoms there and walked on to Orioles Singing in the Willows. The park was just as packed. Willow branches had yet to sprout leaves – some held high, some drooping. A creek reflected another patch of blue sky; even winter scenery was softly lovely.
We followed a path all the way to the lake’s edge. Tour boats crisscrossed the water; it seemed every boat on West Lake was out, creating a feeling of a hundred boats racing.
Shared bikes turned out to be the most convenient – no traffic jams! We cycled back to the hotel for a rest.
Learning from lunch, we set out early and navigated with ease to Hangzhou Restaurant, where we successfully got a number showing 164 tables ahead. Not far away was ‘Old Man’s Oil-Blasted Shrimp,’ but when we wandered over just after 5 p.m., they had already stopped issuing numbers. Resigned, we returned to Hangzhou Restaurant. The entrance was seated and standing room only. I managed to grab a round stone stool someone had just vacated and sat waiting. From eating a McDonald’s cone while feeling hot from walking, to the sky darkening and feeling chills, I watched numbers being called one by one with envy – I wondered what time those people had arrived.
After two hours of waiting, we finally sat at a table. This was, to my memory, the longest wait for a meal ever. We ordered several signature dishes: West Lake vinegar mandarin fish, Longjing shrimp, oil-blasted shrimp, a tasty sweet pea dish, West Lake water shield soup, and the West Lake lotus root starch I’d been craving. We added steamed soup dumplings with pine needle aroma as a staple. Long wait, hunger, so we ordered all that. Fortunately, Jiangzhe cuisine portions aren’t large and the flavours are pure and precise. The tableful of dishes was polished off by the two of us.
A half-day’s Hangzhou trip concluded with a satisfying meal of authentic Hangzhou cuisine.
Hangzhou is beautiful no matter when you visit.
Ever since the idea of Taizhou popped into my mind, I’d been paying more attention to it. By chance, I discovered that CCTV’s New Year’s Eve Gala had Taizhou as its main venue. Then I learned that the gala had been held in Taizhou for three years running. A quick Baidu search revealed the reason: on January 1, 2000, the first sunrise of the new millennium in mainland China touched the shore of Shitang in Wenling, Taizhou. The place symbolizes light and hope, and the gala is held there to pass good wishes to audiences nationwide.
For our Taizhou trip, we designed a route renting a car in Wenling and returning it in Linhai, balancing time and distance and using an optimized itinerary to save energy.
The train tickets from Hangzhou to Wenling were second-class seats converted from sleeper berths. Before boarding, I was curious: what sort of setup was this in the age of high-speed rail? Once on board, I saw that each compartment had two facing rows, three people per row, with surprisingly spacious and comfortable seats. The train was a slow local service, stopping at small stations one after another. The scenery outside the window was distinctive: houses stood beside fields or clustered in towns, mostly three- or four-story detached homes, some in rows. The layout was pretty uniform – on the ground floor, a wide double door opened to a space with tables and chairs, likely a sitting room; living quarters started on the second floor. Details distinguished each home, some low-key, some luxurious.
What I looked forward to most on this trip was the rainbow village of Xiaoruo in Shitang Town, Wenling. Its unique architectural style has made it a social-media sensation.
Picking up our car at Wenling’s high-speed station, we drove straight to Xiaoruo Village.
The moment the village came into distant view, traffic slowed. Incoming cars were directed to detour. We queued and crawled along, one side a harbor with fishing boats large and small. Luckily, we managed to find a parking spot in the lot below the village. Suddenly, that colorful little village was right before my eyes, dazzlingly close. I felt a bit overwhelmed, not knowing where to begin.
Almost noon, we decided to settle lunch first before exploring the village at a leisurely pace.
We chose a little waterfront eatery that seemed buzzing. Outside, every small round table was taken, heaped with used shellfish shells – a messy, lively seaside restaurant vibe.
Inside, we grabbed a small table. Guided by the owner, we ordered a few seafood specialities. Steamed small yellow croakers, tender and delicate, were arranged in a ring on a large plate; we patiently picked them off one by one. Red shrimp, sweet with a fresh burst of flavor. Two flower crabs, simply stir-fried with ginger and scallions, kept their original taste beautifully. And one dish of rock anemone stir-fried with rice cakes – ever since trying crab with rice cakes in Ningbo, I’ve been conquered by that combination. Rock anemone, a sea anemone growing on reefs and a Taizhou specialty, offered a slight crunch. The rice cakes, coated in rich seafood broth, were fragrant and chewy; we luxuriously made them our main course. Our first seafood feast in Taizhou left us deeply content.
After the meal, we formally stepped into Xiaoruo Village. Stone house exteriors were painted in a riot of colors, houses layered at random, colors colliding and mixing freely. Every direction, every corner felt photo-ready. Between the lanes, multicolored steps concentrated the vibrant palette. Strolling felt like walking through a dreamy fairy tale world. The macaron hues brought sheer visual delight.
The village lies against the hills, near the water, with fishing boats moored along the shore. Through the gaps between houses, you can glimpse the sea and boats. Here, you can walk wherever your heart leads – beauty is everywhere. Hanging colorful wish cards formed another bright scene; I couldn’t resist picking two to bring home, planning to write wishes and hang them up.
Looking back at every step, I left reluctantly, capturing many distant views. Xiaoruo Village is stunning both from afar and up close.
We returned the same way, but the line of cars entering the village had grown even longer, creeping slowly and stretching far into the distance.
Originally, we’d planned to visit the nearby Millennium Dawn Park, built to commemorate the first sunrise of the new millennium with the landmark ‘Millennium Dawn Monument’ and observation deck. Two tall pillars rise facing each other like upright door planks, symbolizing the opening of a new century. Or we might have headed to Dongxia Beach to sunbathe and zone out. But all these wonderful ideas were pushed aside by holiday fervour; the parking lots that began kilometers away were enough to deter us.
We returned to the hotel early to rest. The hotel was one I’d singled out after much deliberation – great facilities and service. Next door was a locally renowned restaurant, but it was so popular that you couldn’t phone for a table, nor join a queue in person. To make matters worse, there were no other dining options nearby. After more than two hours and my husband trying every trick, we finally got dinner – more Taizhou-style seafood.
Wenling to Linhai Day Trip
Both Wenling and Linhai are county-level cities under Taizhou. Attractions like Tiantai Mountain and Shenxianju are more accessible from Linhai. Today we’d play and travel, moving our base from Wenling to Linhai.
The first stop on the itinerary was Changyu Dongtian (Cave Heaven). Part of the northern Yandang Mountain range, these winding hills feature man-made cave scenery said to have 28 cave clusters with various shapes. We casually picked one cluster to see; the artificial traces were too obvious, and there wasn’t much natural scenery to appreciate. It lacked visual appeal, just a quick check-in spot where we barely took any photos.
While planning the route last night, I’d scrolled through a video showing plum blossoms in full bloom at a village cultural activity center. Many people were going there for photos, and it happened to be near our route – perfect to enrich the day’s plan.
To my surprise, this village cultural center was... up a mountain! A steady stream of visitors made the trek. Watching people come down panting made me nervous. I sent my husband ahead as the scout so I could slack off and steal his photos. Leisurely pacing, I came across a few plum trees halfway up that already delighted me – my first real look at plum blossoms. In Beijing’s spring, peach blossoms are everywhere, but I’d never specifically sought out plum blossoms.
After much inner debate and several rest breaks, I finally reached the summit and the Plum Garden. A vast sea of plum blossoms stretched out, so beautiful! Without resting, I hurried into the blossoms for photos. In the winter setting, the rosy red petals looked particularly enchanting. Bees buzzed among the flowers, almost on every tree. I became a little wary and forgot to lean in and smell the fragrance. The sky cooperated beautifully – blue sky, white clouds, distant mountains, a sea of plum blossoms – a lovely winter tableau.
The climb was strenuous, but the view made it all worthwhile. This wasn’t just a cultural center – it was a sports center too!
Changyu Dongtian had been a letdown, but the Plum Garden more than made up for it, even delivering unexpected delight.
After the morning’s activities, we drove straight to our hotel in Linhai. By the time we dropped our bags, it was nearly 2 p.m. We headed out for lunch. From the hotel restaurant to street-side eateries, everything had closed – here, restaurants typically stop lunch service at 2 p.m. and won’t accept customers, stubbornly so. We had to make do with bread and milk from a convenience store.
After a comfortable afternoon rest, we set out again for the ancient city wall and Ziyang Street. The Taizhou Prefecture City Wall, first built during the Eastern Jin Dynasty, served both military and flood-control functions and is hailed as the ‘Great Wall of Jiangnan.’ By the time we arrived, it was dusk, and we could ascend without a ticket. The thick wall, grey bricks, oozed a sense of age. Early spring air greeted us; tree branches showed touches of pale green. From the wall, you could see distant mountains and a panoramic view of Ziyang Street – a bustling crowd and thriving shops, a real-life ‘Along the River During the Qingming Festival.’
Entering Linhai’s premier ancient street, Ziyang Street, just about a kilometer long, we found shops decorated with red lanterns, ribbons, and silk flowers, festooned with festive atmosphere. The street holds many historical sites and a lively, earthy vibe. Stalls selling handicrafts and specialty snacks were surrounded by crowds; we could only shuffle with the flow.
We decided to have a proper meal to reward the day’s toil. Leaving Ziyang Street, we found a steamed fish hotpot place. The fish soup was fresh and the fish meat tender and smooth – very tasty. After the meal, back near the hotel, fruit stands, restaurants, and shops had already closed. It turned out that after 8 p.m., restaurants here really do stop serving. So in Taizhou, you’ve got to eat on time.
Tiantai Mountain Waterfall and Jigong’s Former Residence
With a love for natural scenery, we added Tiantai Mountain Waterfall and Shenxianju to our two-day Linhai itinerary.
Tiantai Mountain is the place where the famous Ming Dynasty geographer and traveler Xu Xiake began his travel notes. It’s the birthplace of the Tiantai school of Chinese Buddhism and the founding site of the Southern Daoist branch. As early as the Tang Dynasty, it attracted numerous poets who left many magnificent poems, leading to the saying, ‘One Tiantai Mountain, half of all Tang poetry.’ Li Bai’s line, ‘I’d rather leave palaces and towers behind and soar to Tiantai,’ cemented its renown.
Our Tiantai journey focused on Tiantai Mountain Waterfall, the tallest and widest waterfall in China. From the mountain’s base, you can see the long cascade plunging down in tiers, mighty and awe-inspiring.
We climbed step by step along the valley, walking between mountain streams and ridges, admiring the waterfall from shifting angles, getting closer and closer. ‘Distant and near, high and low, each view different.’ Every level offered a new scene.
My goal was the Water Curtain Cave; the higher reaches and the back area of Qiongtai Fairy Valley were never in my plan. When I stepped into the Water Curtain Cave, splashing droplets showered me, and the thundering waterfall was within arm’s reach. That moment was pure exhilaration! It fulfilled a ten-year wish: at Huangguoshu Waterfall, I never made it inside the water curtain cave to feel the waterfall; this perfectly compensated for that.
After coming down from the waterfall, we decided to learn from yesterday’s lesson and eat early so as not to miss normal meal hours. A restaurant recommended by my bestie was not far. We arrived at 11:10 a.m., secretly pleased we’d made it, only to be told they’d stopped handing out numbers. Many people before us had queued, and by the time they finished eating, lunch service would basically be over.
We found a nearby restaurant, again Taizhou style: steamed belt fish with delicate flesh, red shrimp sweet and tender.
The afternoon began with a visit to Jigong’s Former Residence, the birthplace of the Living Buddha Jigong and the ancestral home of the Li family. The halls, Buddhist shrine, pavilions, and furnishings vividly recreate life in the Li mansion during the Southern Song. The garden had exquisite pavilions, rippling lake water, and a lifelike statue of Jigong – a beautifully curated site. Trusting that everything is for the best, we devoutly made our offerings.
I’d seen a video of Sui Dynasty plum blossoms blooming at the thousand-year-old Guoqing Temple and wanted to enjoy them. Two kilometers away, we couldn’t follow the navigation – the road was closed ahead, jammed with fervent traffic. Police directed us and others to detour and park two or three kilometers away. Walking in was mandatory, and we could only imagine how packed it would be inside. We decisively gave up. The holiday enthusiasm was fierce; going now would defeat the purpose of quietly appreciating an ancient temple.
After a hotel siesta, we again set out early for dinner. Xinrongji was too lavish; Rong Xiaoguan was more down-to-earth, and there happened to be one nearby. We cycled over, arriving a little after 4 p.m. The entrance was crowded, waiting seats all taken. I hurried to the number-dispensing desk only to be told they’d stopped giving out numbers. Dazed, not knowing where else to find a reputable place to eat, I saw a young man with two numbers say to the service girl that someone had given him an extra number he didn’t need. I immediately blurted, ‘Give that to me!’ So I got a waiting number. I secretly felt fortunate – eating dinner was truly no easy feat! Sitting on a chair at the entrance, I watched one new arrival after another get turned away and leave dejected. That service girl had it tough, standing there repeating the same thing gently. Over three hours later, our number was finally called. We had broken our record for the longest meal wait.
Once seated, I inquired and learned that every day, even before lunch ends, people start queuing for dinner numbers, forming a long dragon. So arriving at just after 4 p.m., we could never hope to get a number or eat dinner.
All that waiting had been rough. We ordered from the top ten signature dishes: sand anemone stir-fried with bean noodles, beef ribs, and home-style braised deep-sea large yellow croaker – reportedly from Dachen Island! We’d watched a documentary about Dachen Island, and my husband had wanted to go. I was resistant to taking a boat, so we hadn’t planned it. This Dachen yellow croaker was a consolation for him. The meat was incredibly tender – I greedily tried to scoop a big piece, only to have it fall apart on the plate, so I had to use a spoon. The sand anemone with bean noodles: sand anemone is a sea anemone that lives in sand; bean noodles are vermicelli. Stir-fried together, they taste wonderful – a signature Rong’s dish. The beef ribs were also tasty, tender yet slightly chewy. Overall, I felt the three-plus-hour wait was worth it. On a trip to Taizhou, you should have at least one close encounter with a homegrown restaurant, and the flavor here was genuinely good.
The earliest photo I’d seen of Taizhou was Shenxianju’s Ruyi Bridge. Shaped like a Chinese jade ruyi scepter, it spans two towering peaks above a dizzying abyss. The full view from afar is visually striking.
For today’s Shenxianju visit, we entered from the south gate and took the cable car. Once again, holiday passion was palpable – we queued in circles for an hour before finally reaching halfway up the mountain. Thankfully, two long escalators helped us ascend further, saving a lot of energy.
From a distance, we spotted Ruyi Bridge; someone said it was on the northern peaks and looked far away. To enjoy the scenery, we opted to descend via the north side, admiring views along the way.
The winding mountain paths weren’t too strenuous, mostly flat, which I liked.
In the quiet valley, strange peaks and rugged rocks appeared amid swirling mist. Every mountain, water, rock, and peak had its own charm while complementing each other – nature’s masterful craftsmanship, a landscape made in heaven.
The Lotus Platform, like a blooming lotus, extended from the heights into the deep valley as a viewing deck – a must-photograph spot where tourists queued. We raised our selfie stick, snapped a scenery shot, and skipped the queue.
Several glass-bottom viewing platforms jutted out over the valley, alluring visitors to step on and experience nature from a different angle.
Wolong (Crouching Dragon) Bridge curved like a dragon lying in the valley, with a hollowed-out design and a rainbow-colored walkway – a popular photo spot.
After nearly three hours, we finally reached Ruyi Bridge. With its double-deck curves and glass floor, it felt strikingly modern. Unfortunately, up close you couldn’t see the full bridge.
Standing on the bridge, I watched clouds drift back and forth. The sea of clouds was dreamy and intoxicating; floating clouds contrasted with blue sky and layered peaks, the shifting weather wrapped in an aura of immortality, as if in a fairyland. I sighed: no wonder it’s called the Dwelling of Immortals – a home the immortals chose for themselves, delightfully refreshing.
Shenxianju was well worth the trip. Back near the hotel at 3 p.m., we found a barbecue restaurant. Luckily, it was still open, so we feasted heartily. Lunch and dinner merged – we had to eat to bursting.
A few months ago, I was marveling that it had been nearly twenty years since my last visit to Shanghai. This time, just months later, here I am again in great Shanghai.
I chose Shanghai as the stopover on the way back, and even though I’d visited recently, I was still excited.
We again stayed at the Jincheng Metropole next to the Peace Hotel, where the Oriental Pearl TV Tower is visible right outside the door.
Arriving at noon, even the metro queue was long. The hotel was a short walk from the station. After dropping our bags, we immediately set out to stroll and eat.
The weather was clear, the blue sky softening the ultra-modern skyline of the Oriental Pearl and the Lujiazui ‘three-piece set.’
We walked south along the Bund to Yuyuan Mall. Four months earlier, you could enter the mall freely. It was huge, with many shops; only entering Yuyuan Garden and City God Temple required separate tickets. This time, during Spring Festival, a lantern festival was held, and the entire mall was fenced off – just to enter, you needed to buy an 80-yuan ticket. As the saying goes, ‘Since we’re here…’ Who knew how many years until our next encounter? We bought tickets and went in. First, a restaurant for lunch. We each ordered noodles with crab, xiaolongbao, wontons, and crab-roe soup dumplings – all staples that quickly filled us up.
Strolling around the mall, large lantern displays filled the ponds on both sides of the Zigzag Bridge. Shops were extravagantly decorated, the whole mall lit up with colored lanterns in a festive mood. We circled the mall without entering Yuyuan Garden or the City God Temple, then cycled back to the hotel to rest.
For dinner, we wanted a proper feast. After several seafood meals, our stomachs felt empty; Jiangzhe cuisine was what we craved. Between Old Man’s Oil-Blasted Shrimp and Gui Manlong, we chose the latter for the shorter wait – we’d been so « trained » by meal queues in Taizhou. Oil-blasted shrimp, rice cake stir-fried with crab, and Yangzhou-style braised shredded tofu – every dish hit the spot perfectly.
After dinner, we officially stepped onto Nanjing Road to experience the bustle of the number one pedestrian street. At the M&M’s World, I was immediately drawn to the chocolate products and colorful chocolate beans. The vast array of colors and the self-serve scoops captivated kids and adults alike, sparking a shopping urge. But seeing the long checkout queue, we gave it a pass!
Following the crowd all the way to the Bund felt like a parade. The Oriental Pearl Tower shifted colors constantly; across the river, the whole opposite bank glittered. On our side, buildings decorated with lights shed their solemn daytime appearance, gaining a soft beauty.
The next morning, we arrived early at the Bund. Today we were heading home, so it was a farewell to the Bund and Shanghai. The sky was overcast with many clouds, and barely a soul was in sight – a stark contrast to the previous night’s clamor. We freely chose angles and took many more photos. At the Waibaidu Bridge, my husband even stepped into the middle of the road for a perfectly centered shot. The layered clouds made the photos very atmospheric.
A must-visit: Dahu Chun’s pan-fried buns. But in just a few months, the menu had changed – the classic fresh pork pan-fried buns were gone! Only shrimp and crab paste versions remained. We ordered one of each and packed two more for dinner. However, this time they didn’t taste as good as before; the skins weren’t as crispy, a bit limp.
Four hours on the high-speed train, and we were home. The holiday had ended perfectly. I can’t waste a single day of my precious annual leave – back to work tomorrow.
February 2024
