West Lake, Hangzhou

The first time I saw West Lake in Hangzhou, I was dumbfounded. It was October, at sunset, and as I watched the sun go down, from a pavilion behind me came drifting the sound of local opera, as musicians and singers came and went, often dropping in off their bikes to request a song, or to play a tune or two. It was magical.

And, having read about the beauty of the lake for many years, to see it for the first time was a very emotional experience. I wept as I stood there. Later, having lived close by, and seen it through the seasons, it became familiar to me, but never less than ravishing - in sunshine, in the rain, and even, once, in the snow.

Many years after I left Hangzhou, I went back, to find the city centre all but unrecognisable: the old streets were gone, replaced with mirror-glass towers and multi-lane highways. Qingchun Lu, once the main street - Marco Polo had walked it - was a twisting, organic muddle of Art Deco banks, traditional 2-storey houses with wooden upper walls, and unlovely Stalinist buildings, but it had real character. All gone now. But the lake remains inviolate, and lovely as ever.

We destroy so much, humans. God's spoilers.....but we can build true sometimes. West Lake is lovely because men made it so.

Will we ever learn again how to build true and lovely things, without damaging our mother, the Earth?