The city I grew up in is called Nanjing.
“It has seen 2500 years of happenings before me.”
I sometimes think that while walking under the maple canopies. Nanjing’s history is in every place you walk and every corner you see, intensively and solemnly looking back at you.
Perhaps it’s the tall maple trees planted when it was last the capital of China (Republic of China). Nanjing people tell of the love story between the president at that time and his wife, about how he planted the trees for her. Perhaps it’s the two hills with temples sitting quietly in them, one only gets visited when the maples turn red and the other when the cherry blossoms bloom. They are prime hiking spots for the city-dwellers instead of historical attractions, even though the temples have stood since the 5th and 6th centuries. Although it’s difficult to not imagine generations of people treading the same slope when I’m walking up the hills.
Perhaps it’s the duck shops in every neighborhood, within 10 minutes of walking distance wherever you live in the city. Naning’s duck shops, whether it’s selling simply salted and peppered, or marinated or roasted duck, always have a line with locals waiting and would happily tell the visitors about the city's long-lasting preference for duck, lasting more than 2000 years. Perhaps it’s the city wall that breathes in almost every district of the city from the Ming dynasty. It was the most exciting chapter in history class because all the big events happened in Nanjing. When it’s rush hour, the sight at ZhongShan Gate is awe-inducing: cars, motorcycles, taxis, and buses, all jammed, beaming red lights from their backs, occasional honking; anger, anxiety, frustration, and frequent lashes of arguing sounds, all melting under the over 100 degrees Fahrenheit weather… while ZhongShan Gate, standing at 70 feet, bodied with bricks functioning since the 14th century, gazes far at the distant sunset. I sometimes feel small walking in Nanjing.
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