Zigzag Bridges

(For photo credits, see below)

Chinese gardens are made up of four components: water, rock, plants and structures. The first three are also central to my Western concept of beautiful landscapes but I rarely consider the role of man-made elements in designing outdoor spaces. Perhaps that’s because I’m only a sometime garden putterer and not an educated landscape designer. My time in China not only provided many opportunities to enjoy all the elements of beautiful gardens but also deepened my understanding of Eastern aesthetics and reminded me of an old but vital truth.
I discovered that Eastern landscape design, and even more broadly, Eastern aesthetic experience, is much more nuanced than I had ever realized before. First on the campus of the university in Suzhou outside of Shanghai and later in several gardens in the city, my touring companions and I came upon what we saw as whimsical zigzag bridges. We Westerners think of bridges in a utilitarian context. They’re about getting from this side to that side, from here to there, that’s it. Sure, you can make them look attractive with materials and decoration but they’re mostly about getting across a body of water, large or small.
When we encountered the first of these delightful little bridges, our guide told us that one of the reasons for their design was that Chinese people believed that evil spirits can’t easily turn corners. Zigzag bridges serve as protective barriers. Evil spirits and what we Westerners would call superstition are a huge part of everyday Chinese culture, as those of you who have read books like Amy Tan’s Joy Luck Club will remember.
Later, we toured three private gardens that are now open to the public. Built during the Ming and Qing dynasties, these gorgeous outdoor spaces were the designers’ attempts to bring the beauty of the rural countryside into the crowded metropolis. Their owners were wealthy retired officials who retreated to their oases and rarely left their magnificent compounds. Our group was given free time to wander in each one. As I let myself be guided randomly by the paths, I received gifts that included awesome beauty, cultural insight and a well-timed reminder of an ageless truth.
Zigzag bridges are designed to present the beauty of a new view with each turn as you cross. It’s not about getting to the other side; it’s about how lovely it is along the way. As I hurried to beat the on-bus time and get to just one more pagoda in the Humble Administrators expansive garden, the bridge made me slow down. Look this way, then that way, then this way again, only further along. See the redbud with its fuchsia flowers sprouting from the trunk. Look how many different shades of green there are in that bank of trees, from brand new spring green to eternal evergreen. Notice, as our guide suggested, the water flowing over the rock, how the rock makes the water more dynamic and the water’s glistening makes the rock more elegant.
Chinese landscape designers have more than bridge design in their aesthetic bag of tricks when they are using what I think is called “hardscape”. For instance, a pagoda called the Rain Pavilion was designed to showcase the different sounds made by the rain on the various roof materials, the paths leading to it and the adjacent pond. Standing in that beautiful place, I was flooded with sweet memories my dad as I remembered how he designed his dream house with a small section of tin roof just over his bed. He loved to fall asleep for a nap to the sound of an afternoon rainstorm.
Ancient Chinese garden owners not only enjoyed solitary peace and beauty, but they also entertained guests in their outdoor pagodas. These large living rooms, of course, had windows to bring in breezes and the beauty of the garden. Each window was placed either to frame a lovely scene or to showcase a particularly nice tree or bush planted just outside it. Framing, in fact, was a frequently employed technique in each part of every garden we visited. Look at the gateway in the picture above and see how many ways your eye is drawn onward to the beauty on the other side of the wall. (My dear and talented friend, Faye Serio, took both the zigzag bridge picture and this one of the gate. I’m grateful to her for letting me use them to illustrate my blog.)
In Chinese gardens, bridges, windows, gates and other man-made structures serve to manipulate, if you will, the guest’s appreciation of the beauty to be found there. Perhaps this is not a different cultural phenomenon at all. Perhaps if I knew more about Western landscape design, it wouldn’t seem unique. It doesn’t matter. What I experienced here was a cross-cultural example of a couple of well-worn but important clichés. “It’s about the journey” and “Stop and smell the roses” took on new vibrancy for me in Suzhou. I was filled with gratitude for these magnificent gardens and for this incredible voyage around the world. Traditional Chinese landscape designers used their craft to make sure I slowed my walking and appreciated the awe-inspiring beauty around me. Semester at Sea and the zigzag bridges have taken me on journeys full of wonder and appreciation. A few nimble, evil spirits of stress and everyday concerns managed to get past the barrier, but luckily they were little ones.