A hair's breadth from utopia
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The dish of drunken crab roe is artfully prepared. The male is in season in October, while female becomes flavor in November. Provided to China Daily |
It's worth shelling out to bring Yangzhou's 'slender ladies' out of the shadows, writes Matt Hodges.
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I was still trying to resolve my feelings about the three hairy crabs I'd eaten for lunch - ridiculously rich and sumptuous, yes, but a questionable return on investment given all the cracking and digging involved - when we arrived at the Slender West Lake.
Just as the thin-shelled crabs compete with their more reputable but bulkier cousins from Yangcheng Lake in the same province, so this enchanting waterway in Jiangsu's Yangzhou struggles to poach foreign tourists from the bigger and more famous West Lake in Hangzhou.
But as I stood on its banks, admiring the visual poetry of the weeping willows stroking the water, as well as the assortment of arched bridges and pagodas, many built centuries ago by wealthy salt merchants in honor of their benefactors, the area's selling points became suddenly obvious.
In a crab shell: There was no one there. And when I say no one, I mean there were tiny smatterings of tourists, put in the context of a city, Yangzhou, with a population of almost 5 million people. Even though it was a Wednesday in fall - the city hits its tourism peak in late April, when its indigenous Qiong flower paints the city white for several weeks - the lake was deserted.
In contrast, the West Lake saw a million visitors pitch up over the recent National Day holiday, which for me pretty much defeats the object of going.
There was also a precious sense of intimacy and romance that is lacking in Hangzhou. Such charms were highlighted by the scene of a young couple canoodling at sunset against a white pagoda with crescent-shaped arches. They were in a world apart.
Even the rickshaw drivers refused to be distracted from sunbathing atop their cabs and leafing through the day's news as I passed by, despite the lure of my imaginary tourist dollars.
But the locals can be a fairly gregarious bunch when you get past the language barrier, and they seem happy to spend time explaining esoteric jokes that people in Shanghai might not have the patience for when confronted with an ignorant foreigner.
"West Lake and Slender West Lake have different styles and scenery," one rickshaw driver told me, preferring not to disclose his name. "We often say we got Zhao Feiyan, but [Hangzhou] had to settle for Yang Guifei [Yang Yuhuan]."
He was referring to two of the fabled four beauties of ancient China. Yang, an imperial consort during the Tang Dynasty (AD 618-907), was known for her plump beauty. Zhao, an empress during the Han Dynasty (206 BC-AD 220), was praised for her slender build. Both were imperial concubines.
As these images of lakes and women danced in my mind, my thoughts drifted over to a pair of peacocks nearby that were tethered to an old bridal swing. The tackiness grated with the natural beauty of the surroundings, but it was pretty much the only blemish - that and some unsightly construction work on one of the embankments.
We had been invited to this green-belt city in southern Jiangsu under the pretext of tasting its peculiar variant of hairy, or "mitten" crab, a local delicacy that sets hearts racing around the Yangzte River Delta from mid-August to December. The real reason was to decide if the city justifies a spot on the regional tourist circuit.
Verdict: Yes, if you want romance, privacy, Suzhou-style gardens and a Hangzhou-lite ambience - but without the sometimes overwhelming traffic and crowds.
Without a doubt, the Slender West Lake can be hauntingly beautiful. The only drawback is the entrance fee (150 yuan, $25). A rickshaw ride around its circumference costs 160 yuan for 1-2 hours, depending on your pleasure. Alternatively, you can charter a wooden "dining boat" for a party of 8-12 people for 150 minutes for 800 yuan. Just bring your own refreshments.
This lack of over-exposure, together with the local cuisine, gardens, canals and pervading sense of tranquility, are really the main reasons to visit.
Over the next two days, food would pretty much define my life. I feasted on endless street snacks with peculiarly Chinese names, such as "brain bean curd soup," and dined like a Ming Emperor at the Shangri-La Yangzhou's shockingly good Shang Palace, its signature Cantonese restaurant.
Before eating here, I thought five-star was a generic term when applied to hotel food. One dessert the chef cooked up using mango, orange and coconut basically ruined my life forever. The first thing I did back in Shanghai was rush to Awfully Chocolate to try and relive the sugar high.
