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Tourist Homeage to City's Tragic Past

Nanjing (Nanking), literally "southern capital" is described by an Internet travel site as a "cute, melancholy and quiet capital"offering the kind of manifold blessings that such a city in such a location should have: virtual forests of lush trees and shrubs, colorful public gardens and gentle people perhaps made a little somnolent by the humid climate.

While all this is true, and a photographer's dream, we found ourselves irresistibly drawn to sites that reflected the city's oft-tragic past. For starters, these were the tombs of emperors, or "national leaders", which were usually erected from the lower reaches of mountains to the very top. Happily, their palaces are today well maintained for the benefit of tourists as well as the preservation of historical sites.

The first Ming Dynasty emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, established his empire in Nanjing in 1368, but the third emperor, Zhu Di, moved the capital up to Beijing (literally "northern capital") in 1420.

Today, Nanjing boasts an ancient Old Ming Palace Square. And even though the political capital was long ago moved north, simple geography ensures that the city of Nanjing remains at the center of southern China.

Fast-forward to 1853, when China's biggest peasants?rebellion, known as the Taipingtianguo Movement, created its empire in Nanjing, only to be crushed shortly afterwards. Today, the movement's palaces comprise a popular tourist site where traditional operas are performed each evening. Later, the city became the capital of Dr. Sun Yat-sen's Nationalist Party (Kuomintang) government, internationally recognized as the legal voice of China.

The climb to Sun Yat-sen's tomb, built on a mountain and reached only after you haul your way up seemingly endless steps and through myriad gateways, is no less demanding than negotiating the Great Wall. Finally you reach the pinnacle's hall which contains the founder of modern China's marble coffin and a sculpture of him. As every Chinese schoolchild knows, Nanjing was center-stage of the Communist-Kuomintang battles, a bloody period which saw a huge number of communists shed blood in the righteous cause of a China led by Mao Zedong. A museum dedicated to the battlers, the Yuhuatai Martyrs' Memorial, is a must-see Nanjing site.

On to 1937, when the world looked on in horror at the bestial Nanjing Massacre, when Japanese invaders killed some 300,000 innocent Nanjing people in one month. Many were buried alive, while huge numbers of women and children were ruthlessly bayoneted. Our itinerary took us first to the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall, which pulls no punches in its exhibition of the period. Every photograph we viewed, every word we read, plunged our quartet into an instant depression. Most heart-rending of all was the actual excavated 128 square meters containing 208 skeletons stacked in seven layers.

Suddenly I fully understood why the taxi driver who took us there said he will never forgive Japan. It was raining a little that morning. We felt chilled, though it was still early autumn. Somehow the drizzle was a fitting, somber backdrop to this place of such awful memories. In the rain, we escaped to the poetic Qinhuai River. Cruising on this murky old waterway, we submerged ourselves among the crowds of tourists, still unable to shake off the images and artifacts we had seen at the massacre memorial hall.

China's Great Lake
By the third day of our trip, spirits somewhat lighter, we were more than ready to explore a totally different place -- Wuxi. On the map, it seems to be the most convenient jumping-off point for visiting Taihu, China's largest lake. A four-hour train ride got us there by lunchtime, only for us to find ourselves continually hassled by about 20 local "guides" and hawkers we couldn't shake off. "Do you need a hotel? Buy a map? Where are you going? Have you had lunch?" We dared not stop walking, and it took some time for their ranks to thin before the more persistent finally gave up trying to separate us from our money.

A taxi driver offered to take us to a hotel near the lake. Traversing Wuxi City, we were taken to a small hotel called Lixin. By then, we were so tired that we didn't bother to haggle over the room prices or their condition. Time was precious, so we shook off our lethargy and spent the afternoon enjoying the very green, picturesque Liyuan Park where poet and politician Fan Li spent much of his time 2,500 years ago. His love of the romantic setting was understandable, as he was usually accompanied by his girlfriend Xi Shi, said to be one of China's four most beautiful women.

Wuxihas two famous viewing areas where best to appreciate Taihu Lake. The newest is Longtouzhu, still largely deserted because its existence is not yet widely known. Visitors can use a lakeside pathway or take a small boat to explore the lake. Not far away, on Lingshan Mountain and towering over the whole lake and its surrounds, is a new 88-meter-high statue of Buddha. Somehow it was a comfort to see it in the distance after such a distressing morning.

Much larger and more popular than Liyuan Park is Yuantouzhu Park, which derives its name from the turtle shape of the island. Ideally, you need a whole day to visit these lakes and also to scale the mountain. The extra hours would also enable you to take a boat to Fairy Island and pay respects to its Buddhist caves and grottoes. Equally important, it would give you an hour or two to laze by the lake, enjoying the fresh breezes and the warm water providing a relaxing foot bath, courtesy of Mother Nature.

Troubled Waters
Jiangsu is also famous for water villages such as Venic, smaller though they are than countryside counterparts. From years ago I recalled mention of Luzhi water village by a professor who dedicated himself to protecting these rare, historic places, complaining the while that modernization was destroying them. His argument was that government funds should be made available to properly preserve them, rather than all the money being devoted to modern constructions. Such neglect would inevitably see them disappear, he said. Thus we instantly decided to find out how Luzhi was faring in modern China. We hardly dared think that we might be bitterly disappointed, but we nonetheless steeled ourselves against the worst scenario.

A three-hour bus ride found us in Suzhou, where we were relieved that the ticket lady knew Luzhi and assured us that it enjoyed a frequent bus service. Soon we were on to a smooth expressway for the two-hour ride to this old water village. Few tourists could be seen on the streets. Instead, it being late afternoon, all was hustle and bustle as local people shopped for ingredients for their supper.

The air was permeated by homely smells and not a little smoke from cooking fires. Nobody gave us a second glance, but we found people friendly and helpful when we asked about hotels. Within five minutes a woman pointed us toward the Nanfang Hotel at the far end of the street where we had left the bus. A receptionist took us to see nice second-floor rooms with air-conditioning and hot water. At 50 yuan per room per night, they were a bargain indeed, especially as our window provided a panoramic view of the river, with boats heading for their homes. We rushed straight out to do some sightseeing before the evening closed in.

The main street alongside one tributary was lined with shops geared to the needs of tourists. These are always a magnet to people like me and my friends on this trip, though my husband were not exactly ecstatic. The best buys were the wide selection of framed scenes beautifully rendered in silk embroidery. Prices range from 50-1,000 yuan, dependingon size.

By now it was getting dark, so we explored quaint little alleyways and peeped through gates. Most people there were cooking under very dim lights. Kitchens doubled as living rooms, or even bedrooms. One family simply moved its dining table onto the river bank, a characteristic of river-village folk. The overall scene, while to some degree poetic, was badly marred by the stench of sewage and garbage polluting the water. We simply could not understand how locals lived with it. Maybe it was a case of familiarity breeding contempt. Clothes are washed in such rivers, which also serve as convenient dustbins for rubbish.

More hygienic were the families who live on boats. They eat at small, square tables under a bare light bulb, sometimes festooned by electricity cables hanging from the cabin ceiling. The prow of a family boat is used for hanging out wet washing. Fishnets, barrels and other workaday apparatus is scattered about, tidiness not being the people's forte.

The following morning found us spending a final hour on a farewell stroll around this little town. "Neglected" it wasn't, but nor was it particularly well maintained. And because of the strong odour from the river, it hardly recommends itself to tourists. Sad that this aspect should be our group's main abiding memory of Luzhi. My witty husband said they should perhaps rename it Khazi ...