A Classical Chinese Garden

On my recent trip to Portland, I had plenty of free time during the day to do some sightseeing while Daughter was busy with classes.  I took advantage of Portland's excellent and inexpensive mass transit system to visit some of the places I had marked in my guide book, including the Lan Su Chinese Garden. I have visited several Japanese gardens in the past few years, but I was curious--what did a Chinese Garden look like?

Unlike the beautiful  Portland Japanese Garden, which is situated on more than five acres of hilly woodland in Washington Park, the Lan Su Chinese Garden takes up just one city block in the heart of Old Town Portland.  Busy pedestrians passing by would have no idea what treasures lie beyond the surrounding walls.

Completed in 2000, the garden is touted as the "most authentic Chinese garden outside of China."  Most of the materials came from China, and 54 artisans from Portland's sister city in China, Suzhou, lived in Portland for ten months while they completed the structures crafted in China. Over 400 plant species and cultivars found in traditional Chinese gardens are featured here.

According to the garden's website, a traditional Chinese garden is designed to engage all one's senses and contains five elements.  The first element, naturally, is plants.

Many representations of Bonsai were present, including this rhododendron. Notice the ornately carved wooden panels behind the Bonsai--element 4, which we will get to in a few moments.

The second necessary element is rocks.  This unusual rock is a Lake Tai rock, which is formed underwater, with the flow of water creating its unusual shape.

Intricately laid rock mosaic pathways are meant to be seen and felt.

Water is the third element of this classical garden.  This waterfall combines three of the elements: water, stone, and poetry.

A large pond is at the center of the garden where reflections in the water represent the principles of yin and yang, the two life forces that connect to bring peace and harmony in life.  These first three elements--plants, stone, and water--combine in Chinese philosophy to rejuvenate one's qi, or energy.

At this point you may be wondering, just what is the difference between a Chinese garden and a Japanese garden?  I wondered the same thing.  An expert could probably point out many significant differences, but to my uninitiated eyes, there seemed to be only a few.  A traditional Japanese garden contains the same first three elements, but the Chinese add two more necessary elements for a complete garden: architecture and poetry. Even the names of a structure or area had poetic names; this building is called "Painted Boat in Misty Rain."

Buildings are an important component in a Chinese garden, and I think it is in their architecture that you really see the distinct differences from a Japanese garden. Unlike the simple, clean lines we associate with the Japanese style, these structures feature very ornate lines and embellishments.  The curved lines of this roof are typical of all the buildings; the style is not simply decorative, but also in many cases symbolic. The drip tiles seen here have 5 bats on each representing the five blessings--long life, good fortune, good health, a love of virtue, and a painless passing.

Another aspect of the architecture is the use of doors and windows which "form views within views, creating the illusion of infinite space."

These openings create the perfect opportunity for a photographer, with a ready made frame for all kinds of lovely views.  

The final element of a Chinese garden is poetry.  You can see the poetry engraved on the ceiling and the columns here in the Scholar's study, but poetry was written everywhere, including carved into the stone of the waterfall pictured above.  There was only one problem with these poems--I couldn't translate them!  A few were translated into English in the guide book given to visitors, but for the most part they were an enigma to me.  Still I appreciated the idea that the Chinese valued poetry so much that they considered it an essential part of their gardens.

Located behind the zigzag bridge--a traditional element in Japanese gardens, too--was the teahouse.  A brief rest and some refreshments sounded good to me, so I stopped in.  The teahouse served only snacks, so I chose some coconut tartlets, which were quite tasty.  And, of course, I thought I would have some tea.  But what kind of tea?  There were pages of choices with detailed descriptions, a larger selection than the wine list at a five-star restaurant . . . not that I've ever been to a five-star restaurant:)

My usual Lipton's green tea wasn't on the menu, so the selection process took some thinking.  In the end, I decided on a white peony tea, which seemed appropriate since a peony festival was to begin the next day at the Garden. The tea was served in a gaiwan, a container that looked like a two-handled soup bowl with a lid.  The waitress demonstrated the proper method of drinking tea from the vessel--holding the lid at an angle to push the tea leaves away while sipping from it.  I was a little uncomfortable about this until I noticed the other patrons gingerly drinking their tea in the same way.

To add to the authentic atmosphere, a musician began to play a guzheng, a traditional Chinese instrument that looks somewhat like a zither.  Now I wish I had purchased one of his CD's--it would have been the perfect background music for practicing my Tai Chi!

As I sat sipping my tea and discreetly removing the occasional tea leaf from my mouth, I faced the open windows overlooking the garden and drank in the serenity of this peaceful oasis in the middle of the city.

I had planned to visit the Japanese Garden during this trip as well, but unfortunately didn't have time.  But I'm so glad I found the Lan Su Chinese Garden.  If you are ever in Portland, I highly recommend a visit here for a unique experience.

Engraved on one of the wooden panels seen above was this appropriate quote:

"Most cherished in this mundane world is a place without traffic: truly in the midst of a city there can be mountain and forest."

--Wen Zhengming (1470-1559)