We sailed along the shores of Shanghai and picked out our new home by its green pyramid at the top. We slid by the many ports and docked ships, saw the Lupu bridge (the world's biggest arch bridge with a main span of 550 meters) and before long, reached the East China Sea and the Yangzi River. Because the scenery was the same on the way back as it was on the way out, the crew entertained us with a magic show for an hour on our return: piped in music (for some reason, they loved playing Auld Lang Syne – I must have heard it about 10 times that day in different places), big toothy smile, no words, and lots of arm waving. We sipped green tea, admired the skyline, and by evening, we were back in Shanghai. When we returned to the hotel, we got a call from none other than Mr. Bill Wu. He wanted to make sure that we were all right and that we had the tickets for the train the next day. He proposed that if we didn't have other plans, he would like to offer his services as a guide to Shanghai. We were stunned (actually, my mother and I, having read too many mysteries in our day, and my sister and I, having seen too many "X files" episodes, were very suspicious). My father was as calm and trusting as always and invited him instead for dinner the day after we returned from Hangzhou.

We woke up at 5:45am to start our trip to Hangzhou. Armed with several slips of papers with instructions in Chinese written out by our helpful travel agents, we hailed a cab and passed a message to the driver requesting that she "Please take us to the new train station" (not to be confused with the old one). Fifteen minutes and a mere buck fifty later, the four of us were at the train station. We approached an old man and handed him our second note: "Please show us the way to the foreigners' entrance." Instead of pointing out where we should go, the gentleman actually led us all the way there! We conducted our business, sat down on some soft seats in the relatively clean station and ate some honey sandwiches that we had made earlier for breakfast. We boarded the train and at exactly 7:30am, I mean ON THE DOT, the express train left the station.

The countryside was simply beautiful and we were astonished by how exactly and precisely laid out the rice paddies and gardens were. The land was picturesque and the occasional townhouses and condos in the middle of nowhere almost seemed out of place. We chatted for two hours, relaxed on the comfortable seats, and arrived in Hangzhou by 9:30am. At the station, we were greeted by our English speaking tour guide "Wayne, as in John Wayne." His real name is Tsan Wong, but he found that foreigners were more comfortable with Wayne. My father was quick to point out that his resemblance to the Duke was minimal. As we drove past the town and the Grand Canal (1112 miles from Beijing to Hangzhou, the longest canal in the world), Wayne gave us some history of the town, which during the Song dynasty, was China's capital from 1127 to 1279.

Our first stop was the Bhuddist Temple Lingyin, the Temple of the Soul's Retreat, created in 326 AD. Our guide explained that each color had meanings (yellow for power, red for fidelity, blue for wisdom) and that during the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guards tried to destroy the various statues, including the Laughing Buddha, but the local students protested, held them off, and succeeded in saving the statues. One image of Buddha was carved out of 24 sections of a single camphor tree and gilded with 104 ounces of gold. The statue stood placidly amidst the wafting ribbons of incense and gentle, murmured prayers. Along with the serene sculptures, there were also some nightmarish carvings and ghoulish stories about one of the guardians with a history of eating children. Gotta have balance.

On a tour of a local tea plantation, Wayne tried to convince us that if we ate one type of prize winning, world coveted tea known as Dragonwell, which is conveniently only grown in Hangzhou and although not available in the market, would be sold to us for a nominal price, we would feel a fresh taste in our mouths and would not be thirsty the rest of the day. Uh huh. We sampled some tealeaves, even experienced a tea ceremony (first cup to smell, sip, second cup to taste, sip, third cup to contemplate, sip), but did not experience any of the astounding attributes Wayne tried to sell us. My father argued with him for a while about the tea's ability to prevent cancer, tumors, and cataracts. Finally, without buying any tea, but happily buying a Yixing teapot (a beautiful, delicate piece of work, it was the only item in China I specifically intended to buy), we drove around the West Lake. Over lunch, we talked to Wayne quizzically about the city and carefully about communism. We decided to exchange a tour of another temple and pagoda with a tour of a silk factory instead where we learned about and saw silk worms, the cocoons, the looms, and the final products on display.

West Lake boasts a pretty, winding garden, many flowering osmanthus trees which had a pleasing, citrus smell, and a boat tour that provided great views of the pagodas, pavilions, causeways, and arched bridges. On a tour of an oyster farm, we observed no less than 20 pearls come out of one oyster (a violent method to extract them, but intriguing nonetheless). In the evening, we drove by Six Harmony Pagoda, saw a double decker bridge, and witnessed a river flowing AWAY from the sea because it was drawn by the moon's pull in the other direction. After a quick dinner, we returned to the train station to catch our train back to Shanghai.

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