I have finally made my way up towards Beijing after having rushed and wandered through Shanghai, Nanjing, and Suzhou. I think vacation has not yet started for most, it was surprisingly serene when I made my to the Bund and i didnt have to stand in line for Yu gardens. I strolled around the French Concession for a bit and thought of Via Paolo Sarpi, a narrow street in Milan where there's a Chinese community that I heard mostly comes from Zhejiang. Via Sarpi is pretty spare and squished compared to something like Xintiandi, but maybe its memories of bringing in the year of the horse surrounded by Italian style bars that makes me compare. I did a lot of window shopping for qipaos and saw really nice ones that were above my monthly stipend. I didnt buy them since I'm traveling with just my backpack but the range of quality and styles filled my time. Qipaos have been on the bucket list but ultimately I found myself thinking I could arrange something a bit cheaper in Zhuzhou. That and I'd be perpetually worried about keeping it in god condition while on the move. I'm more a window shopper than a real shopper, but just crawling around the touristy area surrounding Yu garden was fun. Fantasy China in some ways, but also home to a lot of neat things (and snacks, whole areas for nothing but food). I did pick out some postcards so that elegant Shanghai ladies can smile at me while I work at my desk.
Using Shanghai as my base, I decided to run out to Nanjing for a day and Suzhou another day. Having read Iris Chang, I felt I couldnt miss Nanjing. Strangely, I wasnt as invested in all the objects as I thought I would be. There was an orderly line of people close to the glass in one room looking at weapons, uniforms, rewards given to Japanese soldiers (and later donated by the soldiers or their families to the museum), and various language journals with news of what happened there. Maybe I just wasn't as interested in the particular guns or swords used to kill or the uniforms or the victory wine cups as much because the book already weighed on me. What struck me most was the sites where the skeletons were buried in a mass grave. Small glass cases on the perimeter of these rooms had pictures of those who lost lives, piles of machine gun bullet casings, buttons, hairpins, nails that were found driven into skulls and hips.
Nanjing was heavy, but I was struck by the collaboration I found as well:contributions in the exhibits from Japanese soldiers, flowers from a Japanese botanist who had studied plants in China, Jimmy Carter contributing to the garden around the memorial. The peace garden was indeed peaceful, the sky was clear and kids amused themselves by tossing things into fountains and ponds that had frozen surfaces. It wasn't the propaganda it might have been and made recognition its focus more than retribution. I found Iris Chang (Zhang Chunru) towards the end and was a little puzzled when the museum said she died in los Angeles. I remember when a high school history teacher told me she lived in Los Gatos so out of curiosity, I pulled up newspaper articles about her suicide and was a little chilled to see that she likely shot herself along one of the roads I went along by bus in primary school or drove down for groceries. "Where?" I thought to myself as I carried out mundane tasks. But I guess Los Angeles and Los Gatos seem equally far away from Nanjing. I rested my feet and collected my thoights at a cafe across the street. Somewhat awkwardly, the words behind the counter where two young women worked said "There are no peace centers, only coffee shops". I pulled out my notebook and stared out the window at the memorial, wrote, ate my "baconic, cheese, and potato sandwich", had an Irish coffee, watched three men in orange polos walk in speaking in a mix of American and Irish accents and leave, and plotted my next move for the day. Since I visited Zhongshan last year, it seemed appropriate to pay my respects at the Sun Yat-sen mausoleum.
Nanjing was heavy, but I was struck by the collaboration I found as well:contributions in the exhibits from Japanese soldiers, flowers from a Japanese botanist who had studied plants in China, Jimmy Carter contributing to the garden around the memorial. The peace garden was indeed peaceful, the sky was clear and kids amused themselves by tossing things into fountains and ponds that had frozen surfaces. It wasn't the propaganda it might have been and made recognition its focus more than retribution. I found Iris Chang (Zhang Chunru) towards the end and was a little puzzled when the museum said she died in los Angeles. I remember when a high school history teacher told me she lived in Los Gatos so out of curiosity, I pulled up newspaper articles about her suicide and was a little chilled to see that she likely shot herself along one of the roads I went along by bus in primary school or drove down for groceries. "Where?" I thought to myself as I carried out mundane tasks. But I guess Los Angeles and Los Gatos seem equally far away from Nanjing. I rested my feet and collected my thoights at a cafe across the street. Somewhat awkwardly, the words behind the counter where two young women worked said "There are no peace centers, only coffee shops". I pulled out my notebook and stared out the window at the memorial, wrote, ate my "baconic, cheese, and potato sandwich", had an Irish coffee, watched three men in orange polos walk in speaking in a mix of American and Irish accents and leave, and plotted my next move for the day. Since I visited Zhongshan last year, it seemed appropriate to pay my respects at the Sun Yat-sen mausoleum.
I didnt realize what a long (though not unpleasant) walk it would turn out to be. I thought I might be able to squeeze in a Ming dynasty tomb, but thatwas wishful thinking once I decided to make the climb to see Sun Yat-sen. I should have realized that there is no Zhongshan without finishing the 山. (中山, middle mountain, but read as Japanese kanji this is pronounced as Nakayama. Supposedly Dr. Sun received this name from a Japanese supporter, but the source Wikipedia lists in its citations looks like it's in Chinese and I haven't found any real biography on Dr. Sun in ebook or print form to really verify.) The build up and hike was incredible. The single room with the dignified white statue of the leader of modern China seemed a bit of an understatement given all the stairs and gates I had to pass to get to him. But there we were, the two of us sharing Pearl River Delta origins and now in Nanjing with its frozen puddles, dusting of ice, and a memorial that chilled in other ways.
No 中山 without the 山.
What you don't see is how I had to walk around and up a lot of mountain before reaching the stairs.
After wearing out my feet in Nanjing (and thinking it would have made more sense to spend the night on my way to Beijing), I decided to explore Suzhou. People familiar with China mistakenly believe I work there (along with Fuzhou and Huzhou). Zhuzhou's not really a tourist spot and sometimes I struggle to explain the appeal of working there to both Chinese and foreigners alike. A Chinese student in an ESL class focused on speaking skills that I observed this summer told me Shenzhen was better than Hunan, more developed, more opportunities. I largely felt it wasn't my place to argue since I'm not a Chinese person looking at opportunities in a changing country, so I just nodded and said Shenzhen had a lot.
But back to Suzhou (which is not Zhuzhou, Fuzhou, or Huzhou). I went partly because I heard it referred to as "Venice of the East" and I've both been to Venice and studied with an Italian professor at a community college who had married a Chinese man. She also taught French and when she gave us her contact information she cleared up confusion by explaining that she used her French name and her husband's last name in her email address. She occasionally mentioned things she and her husband found similar between the two cultures. When I made my way to Italian speaking Switzerland and later to China, any potential similarity or connection excited me and I couldn't help thinking of my first Italian class. So I had to see for myself, despite knowing that the city had changed over time, there weren't so many canals, and that Pingjiang road with its boats and old buildings would also take advantage of its historic setting to sell Suzhou embroidery, silk, and boat rides. I told myself not to get inflated expectations based on the exciting name "Venice of the East". The one thing I could be sure of was that Suzhou wouldn't be full of glass shops with signs stating:
"NO CHINA".
But back to Suzhou (which is not Zhuzhou, Fuzhou, or Huzhou). I went partly because I heard it referred to as "Venice of the East" and I've both been to Venice and studied with an Italian professor at a community college who had married a Chinese man. She also taught French and when she gave us her contact information she cleared up confusion by explaining that she used her French name and her husband's last name in her email address. She occasionally mentioned things she and her husband found similar between the two cultures. When I made my way to Italian speaking Switzerland and later to China, any potential similarity or connection excited me and I couldn't help thinking of my first Italian class. So I had to see for myself, despite knowing that the city had changed over time, there weren't so many canals, and that Pingjiang road with its boats and old buildings would also take advantage of its historic setting to sell Suzhou embroidery, silk, and boat rides. I told myself not to get inflated expectations based on the exciting name "Venice of the East". The one thing I could be sure of was that Suzhou wouldn't be full of glass shops with signs stating:
"NO CHINA".
My first sight of Suzhou after stepping out of the subway.
Unlike any of the times I've been to Venice, it wasn't summer or Easter break. It was January and a lot of people were not yet on vacation for the new year. It was cold, it was pretty quiet. I wandered around the touristy Pingjiang road with its beautiful embroidered qipaos (like below), its one cat cafe, a bunch of other cafes, more shops, a hostel, restaurants, and I watched a lone boat go by. When I had enough, I stopped by one of Suzhou's famous gardens, wandered past women aggressively selling tours who didn't know I couldn't understand much and didn't say anything nice as I passed, and visited the museum. My feet were dead and I wasn't feeling up to anything so I decided to sit down with an Irish coffee (something about caffeine and whiskey on cold or wet days), some water, and some snacks. It perked me up enough to revisit some of the exhibits since I was in a better state of mind to catch the details rather than aimlessly drift around. I also started to study the building I was in with all the water inside and out. There was a special celadon cup that was supposed to be the museum's prized object,but I was really attracted to the details on an ivory fan which made me think of lace (you can find that in Venice too). I wandered the city more feeling largely that my observations were few and couldn't come together in a meaningful way except to say that I imagine much has changed since Marco Polo's travels and a time when Suzhou's elegance took a different shape than what I saw on that grey day. Perhaps it's different over the summer, more boats out and more people. Venice has since had its changes as well and it is interesting to think of Suzhou's tourism and coming to see what is preserved whereas my memories of Venice partly involve listening to people who wanted to see the city before it sinks.
My day in Suzhou may not have been my deepest look into Italy and China's relationship or their cultural similarities, but I felt I had to go anyway to get another small piece of what's something of a hobby for me since my first Italian class and a growing awareness of Chinese immigration into Europe. After my day in Suzhou, I returned to Shanghai for one more night before hopping on the train to Beijing where roast duck, the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, and other mandatory China stops awaited me.
My day in Suzhou may not have been my deepest look into Italy and China's relationship or their cultural similarities, but I felt I had to go anyway to get another small piece of what's something of a hobby for me since my first Italian class and a growing awareness of Chinese immigration into Europe. After my day in Suzhou, I returned to Shanghai for one more night before hopping on the train to Beijing where roast duck, the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, and other mandatory China stops awaited me.
Elegant clothing.
Carved ivory fan.
Pingjiang road.
More Pingjiang. I bet this is more alive in spring and summer
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