Suzhou, a Touch of Boldness Amidst Gentleness 2
Day 2, June 21, Monday. Breakfast was the hotel buffet. At 7:30, Ting and Zhang went ahead to secure a good spot, and Ping and I soon arrived. The breakfast had a wide variety, generously supplied. We took our time eating slowly, spending a full hour.
After breakfast, the four of us strolled around the hotel grounds. Everything we saw—the hills and waters, flowers and plants—was part of the hotel's own landscape. We admired the spotlessly clean lotus flowers and also the peacocks vying in beauty. See photo:
An aerial view of our hotel:
At 9:00, we went back to our rooms to pack, and at 9:45 we checked out. Today's plan: Baodai Bridge – Feng Bridge, Hanshan Temple – Shantang Street – Wyndham Garden Suzhou. Before heading into Suzhou's old town, we'd first swing by Baodai Bridge, which served as a link between the industrial park and the old city.
Trivia: The Ten Great Ancient Bridges of China: Zhaozhou Bridge (Zhao County, Hebei), Lugou Bridge (Beijing), Luoyang Bridge (Quanzhou, Fujian), Guangji Bridge (Chao'an, Guangdong), Anping Bridge (Quanzhou, Fujian), Baodai Bridge (Suzhou, Jiangsu), Wuting Bridge (Yangzhou, Jiangsu), Iron Chain Bridge (Luding, Sichuan), Jiangdong Bridge (Zhangzhou, Fujian), Ba Bridge (Xi'an, Shaanxi). I had already visited Luoyang Bridge, Wuting Bridge, Iron Chain Bridge, and Ba Bridge, and today I would add the fifth, Baodai Bridge.
At 10:00 we set out, route: Xinghu Street – Dushu Lake Avenue – Yingchun Road – Shihu East Road – Baotian Street. The plan was good, but we went wrong at Shihu East Road. The GPS was blind and stubbornly refused to guide us to the Baotian Street parking lot. We switched navigation apps—Baidu wouldn't work, so we changed to Gaode—but the two brothers were just the same!
10:45, thank goodness, we finally parked at Baotian Street lot. We asked several passersby, but no one knew about Baodai Bridge. In the sweltering heat, we were getting a bit discouraged. Then a driver gave the perfect answer: just walk north along the Grand Canal, and you'll reach it; you can even cut through a gap in the low wall of the park ahead.
When we arrived at the southern end of Baodai Bridge by the canal, a pair of stone lions greeted us. Do you recognize them? They are mythical beasts that quell the waters. According to historical records, during the Yuanhe era of the Tang Dynasty, Wang Zhongshu, the prefect of Suzhou, sold his precious belt to fund the construction of this bridge to ease the bottleneck in canal transportation. The local gentry were moved and donated generously, and the bridge was built. Hence the name 'Baodai' (Precious Belt) Bridge. The current bridge was rebuilt during the Zhengtong era of the Ming Dynasty. Originally, there was a pair of stone lions at each end. Today, the pair at the north end still stands, while the southern pair has long sunk to the riverbed. But the lions we saw were clearly at the southern end.
A barge passed close by, its wake surging against the 53-arch Baodai Bridge and even splashing over the ancient structure. Dodging the water, I hurried to the north end of the bridge. Ping, Ting, and Zhang stayed in the shade at the south end and didn't follow.
Construction on the north side was taking shape. Baodai Bridge has become the centerpiece of the Grand Canal National Cultural Park. Where I stood was the famous view 'Baodai Bridge Encircling the Moon.' Although it was broad daylight and everything was in vain, I could imagine, under a solitary bright moon in the clear sky, the fishermen and boatmen seeing the great river and this long bridge.
Before heading back, I took a full panoramic shot of Baodai Bridge facing the canal and the southern bank. It's a pity that Baodai Bridge is so understated; the navigational lights on the Xiegang iron bridge beyond stole the scene.
In hindsight, Baodai Bridge was too niche a site. Even among the four of us, there was no mutual understanding. The one who reacted most strongly was Ping. One person's meat is another's poison? Not entirely. From the parking spot to the bridge, Ping had been bothered by the excessively long approach path, and after holding it in for a long time, the outburst was understandable. I understand.
11:15, we regrouped and set off again, driving thirty li (about 15 km) toward Feng Bridge and Hanshan Temple.
In just half an hour, we parked at the lot of Hanshanlou Restaurant on Fengqiao Road. Across the street, Suzhou Renjia Noodle House and Fengzhen Noodle House were bustling with people, their tavern flags fluttering. Should we have lunch first or visit the sights? We all agreed: sightseeing first, noodles later.
After buying tickets, we quickly entered through the 'Hanshi Heritage' gate. 'Hanshi' refers to the Two Immortals of Harmony, the two eminent monks Hanshan and Shide who founded Hanshan Temple. The main path led west; to the north was the Puming Pagoda Courtyard (Hanshan Temple), and to the south was the Great Bell Tower and Fanyin Pavilion. Following the route inspired by Zhang Ji's poem 'Mooring by Maple Bridge at Night,' we went from south to west, then west to north, clockwise, tracing a great full circle.
Walking south from the Hanshan Bell Garden, the main path was straight and open, while the side paths were winding and secluded. Most Zen temples have places for meditation and enlightenment. Either you rise early to visit an ancient temple with the morning sun shining on the tall trees, or you ponder at night as birds roost in the pondside trees and a monk taps at the moonlit gate. On life's endless journey of 365 li, the ultimate destination might be just this half-acre pond. In the unseen, there is a source of living water that brings sudden enlightenment. Once Hanshan and Shide had a dialogue here. Hanshan asked: 'When people in the world slander me, bully me, humiliate me, laugh at me, belittle me, despise me, cheat me, how should I deal with them?' Shide replied: 'Just bear with them, let them, go along with them, avoid them, be patient with them, respect them, ignore them. Wait a few years and you'll see.' What profound understanding, such light-hearted forgiveness. Truly healing. This is Hanshan Temple, a truly thoughtful, Zen place.
I couldn't help but look back; Hanshan Temple was now far behind, while the Great Bell Tower and Fanyin Pavilion were right before me.
I had fallen far behind and quickly caught up with Ping, Ting, and Zhang at the Huaxia Poetry Stele. Among the many steles inscribed with 'Mooring by Maple Bridge at Night,' the one that inevitably takes center stage, deservedly so, is the calligraphy carved by the master of Chinese studies, Yu Yue. We looked up and quietly recited: 'The moon sets, crows cry, and frost fills the sky; River maples and fishing lights meet my sleepless eye. Outside Gusu City lies Hanshan Temple; At midnight the bell tolls reach the traveler's boat.' The mood reached back across 1,400 years to Zhang Ji's Tang Dynasty.
We went from south to west and came upon a high-standard Yuyin Bridge, with its double-eaved hip-and-gable roof, linking a small island in the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal. We strode across proudly. The island's name slipped my mind for the moment, but it felt very much like Dujiangyan.
On the islet, besides Yuyin Bridge, there were Tang Dynasty lamps, but we preferred the tiny Yizhi Garden, a private scholar's garden. Its owner was Duan Yucai, maternal grandfather of Gong Zizhen, a master of exegesis and Confucian classicist, and author of 'Annotations on Shuowen Jiezi.' Duan's garden was famous for its smallness: outside, bamboo fences and secluded groves; inside, artificial hills of Taihu stones and rockeries. Winding corridors circled pavilions and terraces; you didn't need a hundred steps—within ten steps, there was always something fragrant. So tiny, yet worlds apart. We were the pot calling the kettle black; this little courtyard contained a whole universe.
Now our path had unwittingly shifted from west to north. After Jiangcun Bridge, we arrived at Yuanshang Thatched Cottage. Gone was the lofty refinement of scholars; only commercial enterprise remained.
I wandered around alone. Jiangcun and the cottage evoked the lines 'A clear river winds around the village; In long summer days, everything is tranquil here,' and my thoughts lingered on the poet-sage Du Fu. Then a call from Ting: 'The three of us are at Tingzhong Bridge. Where are you?' 'Coming, I'm at Yuanshang Thatched Cottage.'
Tingzhong Bridge was a perfect vantage point for viewing Feng Bridge, Tieling Pass, and Puming Pagoda. Many photography enthusiasts gathered here, but a few obnoxious elders hogged the best spots, pulling all sorts of tricks. I found a brief opening and hurriedly took a few photos.
We must thank Zhang for being so thoughtful; she bought chilled mineral water and distributed it. Kudos! Like sweet rain in the stifling heat, it was a preventive cure for heatstroke. At that moment, Zhang was surely our acting union chairperson!
After that, we didn't go to Jinghong Ferry or Shuima Post Station. Instead, we crossed Feng Bridge, passed through Tieling Pass, went from north to east, and returned to our parking spot on Fengqiao Road at 12:40. A question arose: Why didn't we visit Puming Pagoda Courtyard (Hanshan Temple)? Unthinkable! Blinded by the obvious, we had to spend another 15 minutes to complete our tour of Hanshan Temple.
We didn't keep our earlier promise to have noodles; that bowl of noodles was eventually realized at Shantang Street (Seven-Li Shantang). We drove east along Fengqiao Road, passing Xiyuan and Lingering Garden. The once-resolute itinerary plan to visit Lingering Garden turned into a lazy wave of the hand. After a bit more, we parked on Shenxian Street off Changxu Road. Note a landmark: across the street was Changmen Outlets.
We walked along Changxu Road toward Shantang Street, looking for a chance to have that long-overdue lunch. Many fair sights like Zhanyudun, Duseng Bridge, and the Tang Junior Tutor Bai Juyi's Memorial Hall were unanimously skipped. Instead, a bowl of noodles from an ordinary Dongwu Noodle House was, at this moment, our unanimous demand. It was already 13:45, and us foodies had empty stomachs that urgently needed refilling.
Dongwu Noodle House was the second noodle shop we visited in Suzhou. Zhang, Ping, and I stuck with Suzhou-style noodles, while Ting opted for a change and tried wontons, plus some xiaolong soup dumplings. Being hungry, we weren't picky—everything tasted delicious.
After the meal, it was time to stroll. Zhang, who had frequented Suzhou's old town many times, volunteered as our guide. Full of enthusiasm and confidence, she led us all the way to Beihao Lane, to a protected building—the former residence of dance artist Wu Xiaobang.
Wrong! That wasn't what we were after—what we wanted was Shantang Street! Fortunately, having hit a wall, we knew to turn back. Passing a Starbucks and walking a few more steps, a straight waterway—the familiar Shantang River—came into view. No need for reminders: Shantang Street was right beside it.
We entered from the east gate of Shantang Street, starting from the Imperial Stele Pavilion and ending at Songhelou Restaurant. The famous Seven-Li Shantang—we walked only three or four hundred meters of the old street, but that was enough. This was the most prosperous and romantic place in the mortal world, condensing all the essence of Shantang Street.
Under Shantang Bridge was the Imperial Stele Pavilion—its stele bearing the inscription 'Exploring the Scenery of Shantang' written by Emperor Qianlong during one of his six southern tours. The pavilion served solely to house the stele and wasn't for resting.
After the pavilion, new and old shops showcasing Shantang Street's prosperity lined up. For the palate: poetic ice cream, Jiangnan boat-style osmanthus cake, Dongwu Zhangji snowflake crisps, Fox's yogurt, Suzhou-style noodles at Sumianfang, and Songhelou's squirrel-shaped mandarin fish. For material desires: silk products from Wuyun Silk, beauty and herbal cosmetics from Xie Fuchun, Youlan's handmade gifts, and antique curios from Jubaotang.
We stood atop Tonggui Bridge, bathed in warm sunshine amidst the bustling world. From the ancient stage ahead, a lovely female voice sang 'Girl by the Bridge.' We etched Shantang Street into our hearts.
We also looked into the origin of Shantang River and Street. It was dredged during Bai Juyi's tenure as prefect of Suzhou, with the river as the main project and the street as an accessory. No wonder the Tang Junior Tutor Bai's Memorial Hall stands at the beginning of Seven-Li Shantang. Everyone knows Bai Juyi's connection to Hangzhou, but I only now have a glimpse of his achievements in Suzhou. It's truly late—I'm sorry. 'Paradise on earth, Hangzhou and Suzhou are most remembered.' Without Bai Juyi's unparalleled contributions, this paradise could never have been made!
For Ting, Shantang Street felt like Shanghai's Qibao, just without the overwhelming glutinous rice dumplings and braised trotters. Actually, our visit wasn't at the best time; only when night falls and a myriad of lights illuminate the place can it truly be the finest Seven-Li Shantang.
Zhang later mentioned that under Tonggui Bridge, Yuhan Hall has a Zhenqu Garden, a perfect spot for afternoon tea. Why didn't you say so earlier? She replied that seeing our tired faces, she didn't bring it up.
At 15:00, we retraced our steps to the parking spot on Shenxian Street. I had considered getting drinks from Chabaidao, but Ping, Ting, and Zhang preferred the Costa rich latte they had brought along.
In the car, I downed my latte in one gulp and then drove swiftly toward Wyndham Garden Suzhou on Ganjiang East Road.
Watch out! An old man in his undershirt, right near Changmen, brazenly jaywalked while spitting. We slowed down and let him pass, but from then on, we held a grudge against old men in Suzhou—truly stuck in our craw.
Our driving route: Changxu Road – Xizhongshi – Zhongjie Road (Yangyu Lane) – Ganjiang West Road (Ganjiang East Road). At 15:30, we smoothly arrived at the hotel, paused briefly in the lobby to check in, and by 16:00 were already resting in our rooms.
By now, we had fully covered Baodai Bridge – Feng Bridge, Hanshan Temple – Shantang Street. Ping said it was a bold walk, a gamble on stamina! The Suzhou trip was meant to be relaxed and pleasant, but it turned out the opposite.
I once read Akutagawa Ryunosuke's travelogue on China, where a chapter recorded his donkey trip in Suzhou—just as rushed and exhausting, if not worse. He hurried through Beisi Pagoda, Xuanmiao Temple, Confucius Temple, and then Tianping, Lingyan, Feng Bridge, and Tiger Hill. Muramatsu Shofu's travels, however, were leisurely. His two-day Suzhou diary took him by train from Shanghai, via Yangcheng Lake, to Suzhou. For tranquility, one must be outside the city. Upon reaching Lingering Garden and Tiger Hill, he felt so dizzy he vomited. Switching to the waterway, the light singing of two or three women turned into a visit to the flower houses. Pleasure-seeking without a trace of depression; after meeting the top courtesan, his dizziness and headache instantly vanished. The next day at Lion Grove and Humble Administrator's Garden was calm and pleasant, with no more trouble. Tanizaki Junichiro took a different approach. Over four days, only the third day captivated him. Tanizaki read the unexpurgated 'Jian Deng Xin Hua' as he took a small boat out of Changmen toward Tianping, Tiger Hill, and Hanshan Temple. Gazing at Suzhou's scenery, he ended up thinking of Japanese landscapes, yet his writing was full of romantic, poetic imagery.
All these are others' records of Suzhou from a hundred years ago, like illustrations. Rushed or leisurely, after comparison, we must still look at our own present-day visit.
At 17:30, the four of us agreed to head to nearby Guanqian Street. Along the way, there were sights. One:
Not far from the hotel, on Ganjiang Road, a memorial arch stood on the central divider with an inscription: 'Gouwu Shenye.' What did it mean? No one could explain it. Baidu gave the interpretation: 'Gouwu Shenye' was inscribed by Mr. Qian Zhonglian. 'Gou' and 'Ju' were interchangeable in classical Chinese; Gouwu is the ancient name for Suzhou, which was part of the Wu state in the Spring and Autumn period, and Suzhou culture is also called Wu culture. 'Shenye' praises the superb sword-making skill of Master Ganjiang.
Turning onto Gongxiang, there was a Christian church with a west-facing entrance, cream-yellow walls, and a three-bay facade. The middle had an arched door, and a triangular pediment with a cross. The church lacked a traditional spire; the side rooms slightly projected, symmetrically structured in the simplest basilica style. It was first built in 1897 (23rd year of Guangxu) and expanded in 1921 by the American Methodist Episcopal Mission.
The third sight, Xuanmiao Temple, was at the center of Guanqian Street. Before that, on the east-west cross streets, to the east at Bifeng Lane, we noticed Zhuhongxing Noodle House and Chuanfulou Old Kitchen. To the west at Taijian Lane, we noted Songhelou and Deyuelou.
A bunch of gluttons! The street was crowded, sleeves forming a canopy. People shopped or sightsee; we only thought of eating and drinking, noting down restaurants and eateries. Dinner was still early, so we continued along Guanqian Street, from west to east and back again.
At Huangtianyuan, the pastries were sold out; at Lugaogao, there were still buyers for the soy-braised pork. At Caizhizhai, we saw the crispy sugar and zongzi candy from years ago. At Sanwanchang, we wondered why Biluochun tea doesn't sell as well as West Lake Longjing.
There were foot spas, KTV lounges, pet cafés for dogs and cats, and the Guangyu Storytelling Hall. Guanqian Street conveniently offered everything for daily needs. We checked our watches: 18:00. What we needed now was dinner at Songhelou. Let's go, to the restaurant!
A grand, impressive building with upturned eaves. We took the elevator to the second-floor dining hall. Though we were walk-in customers, our table was in a partitioned area, reducing the noise. After reading the menu, we ordered the signature squirrel-shaped mandarin fish, crab roe tofu, and blanched Chinese broccoli. For cold dishes, we chose Misty Rain Jiangnan roasted bamboo shoots and Jiangnan Garden Drunken Trio. Staples: hand-mixed noodles with dried shrimp, steamed rice, plus Tsingtao beer.
Tea: ancient tree Pu'er, brought by Zhang. Each of us had a cup to dispel the heat and calm the heart. Then the feast began.
The squirrel-shaped mandarin fish: the chef plated it beside us, artfully arranging it. The tomato sauce was simmered gently and drizzled over the fish, then garnished with pine nuts, shrimp, and the final touch—emerald-green candied fruit. What a stunning squirrel fish! Bravo! This ceremonial beginning already outshone the gold-standard Jiangnan Yachu. Truly worthy of a century-old restaurant.
With the squirrel fish, we couldn't help comparing it to Jiangnan Yachu. When the crab roe tofu arrived, we naturally compared it to Wuyue Rongji. Same ingredients, same seasonal timing, but Songhelou's version was smooth and rich, visually full, mouthwateringly luscious. This couldn't be matched by internet-famous spots like Wuyue Rongji. Suzhou cuisine's emphasis on color, aroma, and taste needs time-honored brands like Songhelou to preserve and control.
Even if not a heavy drinker, when in high spirits, more wine was wanted, so we ordered another bottle and filled our glasses until we were stuffed. It was 20:00 by then. With a little time left, we could take a stroll to nearby Pingjiang Road.
Lindun Road naturally divided Guanqian Street and Pingjiang Road. We crossed Lindun Road and, following Xiaojia Lane, a small alley in the Pingjiang historical district, groped our way toward Pingjiang Road.
A graffiti wall called Deer Gallery, a beautiful sight. It really brightened up the shabby alley, bringing new life to the mottled walls and old trees. A modern plaque marked the Yuanhe County City God Temple, popularly known as the 'Underworld Yamen.' A glance inside—pitch black, eerie.
We missed Taoran Tea House and passed by Monster Charging (Shokugeki). We only paused briefly at Ruolan Qipao. Ahead was a flat-beamed pavilion bridge, Xuegao Bridge. Crossing it, the straight street on the opposite bank was Pingjiang Road.
Xiaojia Lane faded away, and that was that. Now it was all about Pingjiang Road.
Looking north, this was a visitor center area, with endless heads bobbing among rows of eateries and shops. Jiushanping displayed Hanfu and qipao, full of Chinese style. Yifengtang featured essential oils, enticing you to then ask for tea by the river. Han'er Hotel, a long-standing inn that relies on its looks, a temporary home for travelers. Across the water, a light show honestly hung on the wall: 'Flowers bloom on the paths, night fragrance; spring returns safely, busy for flowers.' The light and words were ambiguous, creating an atmosphere full of intrigue, reminding one of Tanizaki Junichiro, busy for the flowers.
After looking north, we headed south. In turn, we encountered Dingtaixian Delicacies, the authentic Suzhou pingtan at Lingyun Society, and tea seats at the Waterfront Station drawing many tea drinkers. Mingtang Youth Hostel welcomed travelers from all corners, forming a diverse micro-society. One visitor more or less made no difference.
In my mind, Suzhou here should be the timeless small bridges and flowing streams in spring breeze, the rosy-cheeked beauties in the summer shade, the patterned paper umbrellas held in autumn rain in the alleys, and the storytelling and pingtan echoing in library courtyards after snow.
A small bridge, Shou'an Bridge, appeared as expected, linking to Niujia Lane on the other side. Turn left or right? We stuck to our straight path, and there along the way was the once-cherished Maokong Bookstore.
Maokong, like a maiden in her prime, in the mood of youth. From clear charm to elegant grace, we've encountered many: the Maokong on Shanghai's University Road, the one on Expo Avenue, the one in Xitang's Shaoxiang Port, the one in Suzhou's Eslite Bookstore, and now this one in the old town's Pingjiang Road. We seemed to be tracing back to Maokong's founding era.
A drift bottle, a postcard, for the future me; a cup of coffee, a book, for the present me. We are no longer young; time flies, but with youth as companion, it can be eternal.
My lens captured a moment of Maokong's space-time.
Ping, Ting, and Zhang browsed the whole bookstore and then rested by the riverside. I stood on the opposite bank; the sound of pingtan had ceased. I took a photo. A small bookstore, yet powerful. In the photo, besides the flow of tangible and intangible things, there were also my loved ones, my love!
As Pingjiang Road neared Ganjiang East Road, we came across another small bridge, Sipo Bridge. Standing behind it was a rosy beauty—Heyan—with fiery red lips, graceful and charming, in a qipao, slim and elegant. It represented both a brand and taste. 'The whole street of flowers intoxicates three thousand guests; I wouldn't mind being a Gusu resident forever.'
My lens didn't capture much of the opposite bank. I compiled one summary photo, see picture:
It was getting late. At 20:45, at the intersection of Ganjiang East Road and Pingjiang Road, we waited for a taxi. At 21:00, we were back at the hotel. We reminded each other to rise early tomorrow, then went to our rooms to rest.
2021.7.27
