Snippets of Zhujiayu.

Snippets of Zhujiayu. Shandong Province, China.

July 2009.

I’ve seen a fair bit of China over the years. Across these travels, I can’t think of many spots that can compete with the authenticity of Zhujiayu. Located in Shandong province, some 45km to the east of the city of Jinan, this mountainous village felt like a community lost in time. 

Prior to arriving in China this was the location that had most captured my imagination. Cobbled streets… hanging lanterns… well-preserved Ming and Qing architecture, fresh air and tranquility. Yup, this was the China of my mind’s eye that I’d so wanted to experience.

Although not all that far from Jinan (just under an hour by car), Zhujiayu was a bugger to get to by public transport. First I took a bus from one of the city’s central stations.

That clunking hunk of metal terminated in an awful place called Mingshui Bus Station. Remote, run down, trash-ridden and smelly, it was not a pleasant wait for the connecting bus to Zhujiayu. Oh boy I wish I’d taken a shot of that regretful outpost, just so you could see it for yourselves.

The bus didn’t actually enter Zhujiayu. Instead, it dropped passengers on a rural dirt road near the entrance of the village. From there I had to jump out and walk to the stone arch that serves as Zhujiayu’s entrance gate.

Snippets of Zhujiayu.

Unfortunately, it had started raining during the bus ride. Thus I found myself making my way through the slashing rain on an increasingly muddy path. There was a small wooden ticket office next to the arch, but nobody had bothered to open it that day.

Under the arch, a group of nasty old women accosted me. Surrounding and jostling me, they demanded I pay them an obviously inflated entrance fee. They also did everything they could to sell me an umbrella, but I would rather have drowned than give them any more money than I had to.

Into the village I went, the rain still coming down. It didn’t take long for me to realise I had not a clue where I was going. There was little to no information about Zhujiayu in those days beyond the few photographs I’d seen and a brief blog entry or two. Not that its online presence has vastly improved these days, I should add.

As it happened, fate stepped in when a kind woman invited me to follow her into her home. Through sign language she indicated that there would be food and a hot drink. She had an honest face and a warm smile, so I decided not to protest.

I’m certainly glad that I accepted her offer. She lived in a delightfully crumbly old stone house in a muddy, leafy lane. In I went, my host inviting me to sit at a stone table in a large courtyard that provided refuge from the rain. Within a minute or so she had placed a piping hot pot of green tea in front of me.

Adventures in Shandong Province, China.

The lady was keen to get started on the food. She kicked things off by taking me into the kitchen where her mother, an elderly woman with a broad smile, had already started chopping up a chicken. So I pointed at this, murmured in approval at that, and gradually we settled on the meal’s ingredients.

The dishes she served me were so damn good. Why oh why oh why couldn’t the photo I took of that feast survive the hard drive crash that affected so much of my China travels across 2009-2010? #devastated

Still, I remember well the deliciously oily wok-fried green beans and chopped garlic. The mountain of chicken in a ginger spice that had just the right kick to it. The bowls of white rice, fried mushrooms and sugar-dipped wedges of pumpkin. It was all outstanding and when the bill came it was an embarrassing $7.

Zhujiayu sits in an exceptionally picturesque valley surrounded by lush green mountains. Not that I could fully appreciate it that day thanks to the miserable weather. In fact, I already knew that I would need to write this day off as a warmup visit and come back later in the week for a second try.

Before leaving though, I resolved to climb the stone steps that lead to Kuixing Pavilion, the village’s main attraction.

Snippets of Zhujiayu.

While it isn’t clear precisely when the pavilion was constructed, experts reckon it sprang up during The Ming Dynasty in the late 1300s around the same time as several of the village’s earliest stone homes.

Kui xing is a deity for literary success. As such, students from around Shandong Province come here to pray for a good performance in exams or just generally for their long term education. Call me naive, but I love the idea of ol’ Kui Xing giving me the power to write movie and music news for a living. And of course eventually start a travel blog.

Reaching the base of the pavilion, quite out of breath, I had to laugh when I realised that I now needed to climb several sets of wooden steps in order to pass through its numerous floors. On one level I came across a shrine to Guanyin, a Bodhisattva associated with compassion, mercy and love. 

However, the best moment had been saved for last on the top floor where a viewing balcony provided moody views across the foggy, sodden valley. The friendly warden was so amazed to meet me she absolutely insisted that I ring the pavilion bell. And what a great honour (and sound) it was as the bell rang out across Zhujiayu and into the farmland beyond.

Kuixing Pavilion.

She also insisted that I dip my hands in the so-called brass bowl of magic water. Next, I needed to rub the sides of the bowl with my damp hands. A custom, she assured me, that would bestow a lifelong blessing of good health and great fortune Well, I guess 50% right isn’t so bad.

My brief but special adventure in Zhujiayu inspired me to return a few days later and even stay the night in a guesthouse. Back in 2009 there were only a few such places and the one I chose had opened just a few weeks prior to my arrival.

The owner was a friendly widow who helped me settle into a clean, largely featureless room consisting of a double bed, a table & chair and an ensuite bathroom.

The space was so sparkling she even had to rip the cellophane off the air con unit and unpack brand new packets of bedding. Clearly I was going to be the first guest to sleep in the room. Outside meanwhile, in the massive courtyard garden, a team of busy workmen had begun assembling a solar power unit.

Truly I had no complaints at $9 a night. Although I can’t say I was too charmed by the toilet situation. I will never forget creeping through the pitch black compound at night in order to take a pee. On the way I got lost and inadvertently walked in on a room of caged chickens.

Finally I found the loo, a cheerless cellar with a pair of holes cut into the ground. The worst experience of all was to come in this very room later on in the stay. Don’t worry, I’m gonna spare you the details.

Snippets of Zhujiayu.

What an amazing few days I spent enjoying the charm of the guesthouse and the village itself. With no restaurants to speak of I gratefully accepted all the food the lady brought me. Stir-fried tofu and runner beans… fried egg noodles… steamed buns… heck I even tried a crispy grasshopper or two.

I loved hanging out in that guesthouse. But the highlight of the stay was taking a wander along Zhujiayu’s green and perfectly peaceful country lanes.

Soon I found myself zoning out in a soundscape of tweeting birds and buzzing insects. Sadly the majority of the houses were derelict, simply crying out to be renovated.

Every now and then I came across a house that had been restored, 14th, 15th and 16th century delights that brought the village’s history and heritage back to life. In the years that have since passed many more of Zhujiayu’s Ming and Qing masterpieces now stand as guesthouses.

Adventures in Shandong Province, China.

According to my notes, the village had 300 residents in 2009. Today, several online articles say the number has risen to a thousand. Rounding a twisty corner of one lane, I suddenly came face to face with this old man. Yup, he was just sitting smoking on a wall, a popular Zhujiayu pastime I guessed. He had been deep in thought, but upon seeing me his face lit up with a warm smile. One of those priceless travel moments.

Last, but definitely not least, how about this stunning (albeit heavily weathered) Chairman Mao mural? When I first saw the thing it took my breath away, mostly due to the surprise. I sometimes wonder if it has been fully restored in the fifteen years that have since passed. 

Erected in 1966, this piece of artwork must have been quite the visual feast before suffering decades of hard rains, burning hot summers and icy winters. It’s a fitting way to sign off my recollections of this wondrous village. 

For a deeper insight into my Zhujiayu adventures have a look at my short stories The City and the Village Part I and The City and the Village Part II. Both tales come from my series Challenged In China.

You can also take a peek at my other reports from around Shandong Province.

Like these? Then why not check out my zillion articles from across China.

I’ve been living, working and traveling all over the world since 2001. So why not check out my huge library of travel reports from over 40 countries.