Hangzhou

It is a sublime privilege of sorts to be here. The people seem to be more down to earth, more human, and genuinely accessible. Unlike the the sociopathic behavior experienced in Shanghai, Hangzhou in areas near the West Lake and into the mountains is much the way Marco Polo described it - a paradise. The Osmanthus trees smell sweet. At night, walking alongside the West Lake in spring and summer, the lights by the water's edge and those of villages in the hills which are draped by the green leaves of the weeping willows are filtered to the green wavelength, so the night-time's darkness is interrupted by this opalescent green light which gives shape to a vast lake. From hundreds of yards off one can see varying degrees of green flickering in the night. The sounds of people, families, and groups of friends enjoying themselves, spitting, in this setting is somehow re-assuring. Yet another physical manifestation of love.