When I returned from China in September, I might have told you that The Great Wall was my favorite slice of the tip. Yet now – months later, as I sit assembling this post in my coffee-shop-away-from-home, somehow Jiaxing seems to have floated to the top of the list.
It's curious how we change; our tastes are so fluid. They roll off the tongue and leave a residue behind. An aftertaste of past preferences. Tastebuds turn to goosebumps, and shivers rise up the spine from the back of the throat – both savory and bittersweet.
It's a challenge to succinctly explain why Jiaxing tugs at me so, and to properly express how while doing the town justice.
Perhaps it was the faded exteriors and authentic clutter of it all, like a host who's forgotten you're coming over... Or it could be the tender balance of new and old, and how one respects the other...
Or you may just need to see for yourself:
I have been thirsty for places not barraged with change or oozing with contempt for the past, and my reflections make me realize I'm parched. Lips cracking, mouth dry.
Jiaxing was a deluge: a flood of the opposite of sterile; tangible proof that character and honor can exist in modern development. It cleared my heart and flooded my lungs – a breath of fresh air in a country plagued by air pollution.
Wuzhen & the Black Village
The Silk City
A Night in Old Town
The canals of Black Village
Blue textiles & the White Devil
The White Devil | bái jiǔ | Chinese liquor
Live music, panda beers, & broad beans
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