Suzhou, CHINA -- “In heaven there is paradise, on earth there are Suzhou and Hangzhou.” Everyone in China knows this saying — at least everyone in southeast China. Hangzhou, where I’ve taught a term a year for the past five years, has the scenic West Lake, 10 miles around, exquisitely landscaped all along the perimeter. Even in this little Chinese town of seven million people, you can find a quiet corner to relax and enjoy nature by the lake.
Suzhou, just two hours from Hangzhou by bus, is the other half of heaven. It has nine classical gardens named by Unesco as World Heritage Sites, and each is worth a visit. My favorite is the Humble Administrator’s Garden, near the Suzhou Museum. (This museum was designed by the architect I.M. Pei, whose family was from Suzhou.)

The Humble Administrator’s Garden is the biggest — more than 50,000 square meters — and the best of the nine, by all accounts. In fact, some say it is the most beautiful in China. But there is nothing humble about it. It was created in the early 1500s by an imperial envoy of the Ming Dynasty, Wang Xianchen, who wanted to get away from it all. For him, it was a place to retire from politics, to relax in a pavilion perched on the edge of a pond, to write poetry, to garden. (Another name for the place is the Garden of the Unsuccessful Politician.) But it also reflects his refined taste.
For over a thousand years, Chinese have retreated to formal gardens to escape political turmoil, to connect with their inner selves, to explore the spiritual side of life. And Suzhou, with ample rain and a mild climate, became the place in China where landscape architecture became an art. Chinese tourists flock here in their numbers. In fact, they do everything in their numbers. Each group wears an identical cap, or T-shirt, or scarf and dutifully follows a tour guide, who carries a portable loudspeaker. The guide shouts into the microphone so that you can hear her a block away. This is the only unappealing thing about these extraordinary places.
Both Hangzhou and Suzhou are located in the highly developed region south of Shanghai. Perhaps because it’s the south, the people are more relaxed, but they’re also loud. When they talk on a portable phone, everyone can hear them. Someone told me it’s because they want people to know that they have nothing to hide, but I suspect it’s a way of saying “I’m here and I count” in a population of over a billion people.
They may be boisterous but they also have a romantic side and a deep sense of history. Why else would they visit 500-year-old gardens in such numbers? Or give them such romantic names, like the Lingering Garden or the Couple’s Garden?
And why would they put so much effort into preserving such beauty, created like a miracle so long ago?
[Editor's note: To view a new show of objects from the Qianlong Garden in China, the Metropolitan Museum of Art is opening an exhibition, "The Emperor's Private Paradise: Treasures From the Forbidden City" on Feb. 1 and closing May 1.]