West Lake Travel Notes

One oar stirs half the lake to breeze, Seven siblings, each their own decree. All can cleave the waves for guests from afar, Yet I alone fall sick the moment I board. Elder Brother warned us siblings since we were young: our family has rowed the oars of Hangzhou for generations, and our knowledge of the waterways must run deeper than the threshold of our own home. Which way the ripples scatter, which way the passengers gaze, which archway the wind comes whistling through—all of it, we must have got it covered. This is the foundation of our family, and the face of our boat guild. Our guild, Wanderer's Passage, has always lived by four words: "Boats Roam the World." And Elder Brother says the next three must be shouted louder still: "Hangzhou, Always Delivered." Counting up our seven siblings, the most promising—besides Elder Brother—are Fourth Brother and Fifth Sister. Fourth Brother is sharp of mind; show him a single bridge and he can recount three tales of old; show him one willow tree and he'll speak of the romances of the fallen dynasty. Fifth Sister has a silver tongue, versed in every matter of the streets and alleys, every thread of human affairs. Guests who board their boats always leave with hearts at ease, and their silver comes out all the more willingly. I, however, am not cut from that cloth. ...I get seasick. Though born by the lakeside, to admit to seasickness would shame the family name—but every man has his weakness, and every oar its own tilt. Elder Brother once meant to set me a daily regimen: ten circuits at dawn, ten at noon, ten at dusk, a small review every seven days, a full account every half month. I followed it for three days, retched over the gunwale twice, and once, clutching the oar shaft, babbled nonsense. After that, Elder Brother sighed: "Though Third Son of the Li family cannot ferry others, he may yet ferry matters along." What he truly meant, of course, was: stop retching on the boat and get yourself ashore. After much thought, since I could not fulfill my duty upon the water, I chose instead to patrol the lake by land. The waters belong to them—but surely someone must tend to the shore? Most folk think that boating alone makes for a lake excursion, never knowing that a slow walk, an idle sit, a friendly word, a gentle warning, a bit of tidying up—these too are all part of the art of touring the lake. To prove to Elder Brother that I am no idler, I have specially composed this West Lake Travel Notes: North Lake Should you come across a drunken man by the roadside, do not be quick to recoil from the reek of wine upon him. First ask which tavern he has come from, and whether he can still find his way home. If he is already too far gone to know himself, only pointing foolishly at the lake and crying "What a great bowl of wine!" ...at such a time, do not drag him by force. Better to coax him into sitting steadily by the shore, letting the cool breeze clear his head, so he does not tumble headfirst into that "great bowl." This too is a way of keeping the lakeside peaceful. Lone Hill's Shaded Grove Squirrels often appear in this place. Should you see a tourist feeding them by hand, you must step in and stop it—words soft, movements quick. Why so? Either the guest may be nipped by an unwary squirrel, or the squirrel, grown too fat to scurry away, may one day be snatched up by a wild hawk from the sky. Respecting the squirrels is everyone's duty—mark this well, mark this well. Willow Bank Water Pavilion Today, a young man stared blankly at the water, as though he had failed some examination, or owed some debt, or simply did not wish to go home. Such a case is not to be pressed with questions. It is best only to step near and say softly: "The wind is strong—would you care to sit farther back?" If he wishes to speak, then listen quietly; if he does not, then simply watch the water together with him. A person by the lake should always be allowed one hour free from hurry. Though I have not rowed an oar, nor carried a single passenger, I have walked through North Lake, Bai Causeway, Lone Hill, Another Tavern, Willow Bank, and all the rest; drunkards and elders, children and young men, squirrels and wild ducks—each has received its due care. Should Elder Brother still ask whether this counts as true business of the boat guild, I would answer: boats travel upon the water, but people travel upon the shore as well. I, Li Baisan, may grow seasick upon a boat, but never sick of the lake. A boat may ferry a man across; a road may lead a man onward all the same. Vast as heaven and earth may be, walking along this shore of West Lake, one finds hope and brightness in every turn. So long as the heart does not sink to the bottom, every place is a fine view.