The Suzhou Teahouse

Here we were in Suzhou, China's most loved garden paradise. We sat in a tea house across the river from our lovely hotel drinking fine assortments of awesome tea. Suzhou is a water town near a big lake just outside Shanghai. There are lots of canals, like in Venice, running under some of China's oldest stone bridges. The town is more than 1,500 years old and it's famous for the gardens. I'll write more about the gardens later. 

Staring across the canal I observed the scene with a journal (freshly bought homemade leather and yellow paper) a camera (Nikon DX third class) and finally respect and dignity.

The reason I have a journal is because I just read Harriet the Spy. For those of you who didn’t read it last year it's about a young girl named Harriet and she wants to be a writer or a spy and she keeps notes in a journal and spies on people.    

Here’s a clip of the journal.

Chapter One: Class Explorer of the World

Sniffing the cool autumn air I lay back and take a sip of oolong tea. Here I am forced against my will to go to someplace I never thought I'd have to go again. China. That's right people the other side of the world. I look across the river and see a lady returning from the market. I notice the grocery bags in her motorbike. The river flows by silently. I see a boatman pass me. A chubby middle-aged man sits on the front. 

Why am I writing without much friskiness? This is not like me. Maybe the Zen of China is finally getting to me.

I was looking out to the street across from the tea house and accidently took 3 pictures. I looked at them and saw people moving. It was interesting. I decided to make a stop motion video. 

I thought about getting the atom bomb tea but got the blooming flower tea instead. It was a ball that you dropped into the tea and it bloomed. Usually it wouldn’t taste like anything but this one was good. (We're sending you a package and will put a couple of blooming tea balls in it for you to try.)

This is Pam. We sat at the tea house a long time. It was nice to be away from the hustle and bustle of Shanghai. Parker got bored after a while and went off on an expedition, but I didn't mind sitting. Peter worked on a watercolor of the buildings across the street.

While we were there, we read some more Chinese poetry. Since we were sitting by a canal, we looked for poems with rivers in them. Rivers are an important theme in Chinese poetry because they were the main means of transportation for thousands of years. They can symbolize journeys, which can also be connected to separation and loneliness. They can also symbolize the passing of time. I liked some lines especially well.

Li Zhiyi (11th century)

            I live at the upper end of the Yangtze River.

            You live at the low end of the Yangtze River.

            I miss you, day in, day out.

            We drink from the same river.

Yu Xuanji (9th century)

            How do I miss you?

            My thoughts run like

            the water in the West River,

            flowing eastward, never-ending,

            day and night.

Su Shi (11th century)

            Golden waves of the moonlight fading,

            a jade handle of the Dipper lowering,

            we calculate with our fingers

            when the west wind will come,

            unaware of time flowing away like a river in the dark.

As we sat there, I became interested in the reflection of a tree in the canal (the longer you sit in a place, the more you notice). The reflection went all blurry when a boat went by and stirred the water, but then cleared up again as the water grew calmer. I decided to try to write a short poem about it. I carry a notebook like Parker does, but smaller because I usually just write short notes. I started with the reflection that I saw, but the rest of the poem is imaginary.

Suzhou Reflection

            The reflection ripples in the water

            like the memory of a tree.

            The river is moving south

            endlessly passing

            like time flowing by.

            But the reflection, steadfast

            does not move

            except to waver

            as the boatsman's oar stirs the depths,

            as the breeze troubles the surface,

            as raindrops begin to fall.

            When the storm passes,

            it will be there as before

            like my memory of you.