Suzhou Supplement: Weekend in Wuxi
Photos & Text by Tom Carter
Our tour of Jiangsu province had taken us to some truly remarkable sites, yet, as I and the other tourists stroll the shores of Lihu Lake in Wuxi, my gaze contemplatively turns towards the horizon, wondering what else this rich region had to offer. Wuxi was only two hours away from Shanghai, but how many times had I defaulted on my resolution to get out of the big city more often?
This weekend would be different. Since I was already here, now was the perfect time to have my first solo adventure. Inspired, I steal away from the group and hail a taxi for the day. “Show me the real Wuxi!” I command in fairly-decent Putonghua to the driver, who fires up a Yi Pin Mei cigarette, offers a jovial “okay-le”, then speeds off.
Our first stop is just around the corner at the 2,500 square-meter Taihu Lake, the third-largest freshwater lake in all of China. Despite the obvious pollution, Taihu’s classical corridors, causeways and pavilions are enough to divert my attention away from the thick, fluorescent-green water as I drink in the park’s beauty. While toxic effluence is certainly keeping it real, I long for a more personal experience. Driver Dong snaps his fingers knowingly, and away we go to the 88-metre-high Grand Buddha statue at Lingshan.
“One of the largest Buddha statues in the world!” he exclaims, but I just roll my eyes; everything in China, it seems, is ‘the largest’ or ‘the biggest’. Still, for the sake of spirituality, I high-five a giant bronze Buddha hand and dart up 300 steps to light some incense at the altar, then return to my waiting rusty chariot with specific instructions: “No more tourist attractions!”
“Haode haode haode…” Driver Dong mutters. “But first, lunch!”
Bypassing the banquet restaurants, he brings this Westerner to his favourite haunt, a small mom-and-pop stall serving up xuecai rousi mian, or meat-vegetable noodles, a Wuxi specialty and, at only RMB 6, a staple among local taxi drivers. Lapping up the last of the savoury broth, I concede that indeed there is something satiating about street food.
“The State of Wu is one of China’s most important rice-growing regions, but in fact, Wuxi tea is just as famous,” a proud Driver Dong narrates as we head northerly outside the city center. “My family have been tea farmers here for generations, so that is our next destination.”
An hour later, I find myself hip-deep in a jade-hued hillside of green tea. The only sounds to be heard are a symphony of birds and the giggles of seasonal hired hands in large straw hats picking off each tea leaf one by one after careful inspection. This is Doushan, the heart of Jiangsu’s tea industry. After a demonstration of the tea processing operation, I have a rest at a tranquil tea house to sip a fresh-brewed cup of Wuxi’s finest lv cha.
An invitation to stay over night in the Quanshan countryside is tempting, but I need to rejoin with my tour group back in the city. Not to be deterred, however, Driver Dong has one final stop in mind. It is dusk by the time we arrive at Qingmingqiao at the south gate of Wuxi City, but that is exactly the best time to view this cultural neighborhood. The canal zone is illuminated with a rainbow of neon that reflects eye-catchingly on the water, best viewed from atop the landmark 16th century Qingming Bridge. Having lived in Shanghai, neon is nothing new to me, but what I am not prepared for is nearby Nanchang Street: a two-kilometre stretch dedicated to the art of imbibing liquids – it's all bars and cafes as far as the eye can see.
Stopping first for a plate of world-famous Wuxi jiang paigu spareribs – decidedly the most delicious pork dishes in China – we then quench our thirst at the Ladq Gaga bar, where I engage in conversation with the proprietor about the peculiar name of his bar.
“The sign maker ran out of “y”, so we settled for “q”; they are practically the same thing, though, right?”
“Um, no, not really,” I laugh.
“Anyway,” the proprietor huffs dismissively, “this is Wuxi, not Shanghai – nobody will notice the difference.”
