Staring back on my time in China, the feeling that all was not as it first appears was a near-constant companion as I adapted to the inevitable cultural obstacles any foreigner feels leaving home.
Specifically, though, for me, that feeling will always be tied to place. Nanjing has more than its fair share of places that will live in my memory, perhaps tinged with a soft-edged nostalgia.
First up is Zixia Lake on Purple Mountain.
We’ve all surely completed the required trudge around Purple Mountain by now, whether it’s a wintry climb up to the summit and a resigned cable car back down, or a scorching summer wander through the parks, gardens and Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum. But something a lot of people miss is a meander into the trees west of the mausoleum, and the gem that awaits.
It is best, if possible, to enter Purple Mountain via one of the eastern back gates, as this is much closer to the Lake. A short 20 minute stroll uphill past some rather nice, if rustic, pavilions and villas will bring you to the edge of the lake. If its your first time, the Lake opens up in front of you like a storybook, and if you’re a return visitor, its pleasing to compare it with your last trip and see what’s changed.
For best results, bring a picnic and come on a hot day. And be prepared to swim! While the waters may not look too clear, dozens of elderly locals swimming with flotation aids usually crafted from old cooking oil bottles can’t be wrong. Some of my best memories from Nanjing are swimming in this lake during the height of summer. The top of the water reaches the temperature of a warm bath, while if you dive beneath the surface it quickly gets deliciously chilly.
However, be warned that those flotation aids are a good idea; it is very easy to get cramp from those chilly waters below. It has not happened in a while, but there have been people who have drowned.
If you really want to dive, join the kids and occasional showboating adult jumping from either the platform near the pavilion, or the wooden construction at the south-east end. Depending on whether someone has ripped the attached ropes down or not, the old, mysterious tower construction at the lake’s southwest can also be climbed and bombed from. Be careful, and be aware; you need to be already in the water!
Here at Zixia Lake, however, all is absolutely not as it seems. For the place is simply timeless.
There’s a feeling here that the relentless pace of modernisation and construction, replete with its social costs and the march towards conformity, has passed this spot by. It may be the aged locals who seem to swim whatever the weather, harking back to the hardy myth of the everyday worker getting on with life and its obstacles. It may be the pleasing absence of shops, services or staff around (don’t worry, there are toilets!) that lend the area a genuine feeling of individuality that too many modern attractions are missing. Or it may be the literal lack a building that seems younger than 50 years. But who knows – as with so many things in China, this could be not as it seems too.
Onto my second spot; Fangshan, or Mount Fang.
While we have no shortage of “mountains” (usually hills) to explore on weekends in China, Fangshan is worth a visit for similar reasons to Zixia Lake; there just seems to be parts of it that are stuck in time. Even just beyond the entrance gate, the arches and monuments had a charming, but not over-the-top, feeling of decay that appealed to the urban explorer teenage boy still within me.
Signs detail the site is an extinct volcano, while at the top of the mountain this geological connection continues. I’ll not spoil all the details; any parents with children who are budding geographers should not delay.
Less flippantly, the area is a good hike. There are great views out over the south of Nanjing, and you may spot something in the distance for your next visit, like Niushoushan (up next). For me, the highlight, and how this place sticks out in my memory was the disconnect upon my felicitous stumbling across a tunnel right through the mountain, one end to the other. As I was climbing to the top, I took a few random turns, to see what I could see. I followed a narrow dirt track away from the main path, and came across a solid concrete hole into the hill, forbidding and dark.
I love things like this. Things that should probably be closed off, protected, or at the very least signposted. Things that might have been closed off by the health and safety police in my native England. Blessedly, though, this incongruous, musty and slightly terrifying hole through the hill was wide open, and after a little hesitation, in I went.
I figured it may have been a bomb shelter, due to the military presence in the area (at the top of the mountain are some interesting shaped buildings with threatening fences blocking them off), and sure enough as I went through guided by my phone light there were, on either side, what felt like bunkers. It was dark, dingy and felt just a little dangerous. If you’re up for a weekend hike that offers something at least a little unusual, why not try and seek out this dark descent into the bowels of Fangshan Mountain.
Finally then, Niushoushan.
This may be the most conventional spot on my list; it is certainly the newest and most commercially developed. Yet even here, away from the grandeur and pomp of the Foding Pagoda and Great Usnisa Hall (well worth a visit!) there are hints and echoes of the past, of things being not quite what they seem on the surface.
If you can, stroll off piste. Like Robert Frost, take the road less travelled by, and you may stumble across some gold. At Niushoushan, I ended up climbing, climbing and climbing. I passed perhaps one other couple on my quest to get away from the crowds. I also passed parts of the park that seemed forgotten.
