A Place Called Zhaji

Since initially learning of Julien Minet’s guesthouse in Zhaji I had thought it might well be the highlight destination on our trip… and I was not wrong. Zhaji is a small 3000 person village in remote Southern Anhui, which boasts some of the most authentic and unspoiled Yuan and Ming dynasty buildings in the country. Julien is a transplanted Frenchman, a cultural anthropologist, married to a Chinese wife, and speaks wonderfully accented English as well as apparently fluent Chinese. He had searched for years to find a quiet retreat away from the crowds of Nanjing, the city that he spends much of his time in.

He eventually found Zhaji, and bought the most rundown dilapidated building there. I’m sure the local thought him completely crazy. But a number of years later he has endeared himself to the locals (he is a remarkably endearing man) and converted that run down 700 year old building into a wonderful quest house. It is like stepping back 700 years, without leaving behind our modern comforts. Initially it was only to be a retreat for Julien and his wife, but friends started visiting from France, and each friend told two friends, and you can guess how it goes. Before you know it, Julien had to either close up his doors, or get on with running a true guest house. And that is exactly how it feels – you are a guest in his house.

He has a live in housekeeper, Ayi (Chinese for Auntie), who is pictured here with Julien.

She is so eager to help out, and so obviously enjoys her work with Julien and the guests. He also has a fabulous cook. Ayi and Julien managed our breakfasts, but lunches and dinners were brought in by a village woman who does the cooking for him. He had to go through 7 different cooks before he found one that was just right (you’ve got to love the French when it comes to cuisine!). Her cooking raises the simple, authentic village dishes she prepares to true gastronomic heights. All of the food was totally fresh, much of it having been picked that day from the many gardens surrounding the village. The preparation and presentation was simple, allowing the natural flavours and appearance of the local ingredients to shine through. We ate 2 dinners and 2 lunches, with 4 dishes each time. Not one repeat, and not one that would fail to hold it’s own in a fine restaurant.

There is little to do in Zhaji, but stroll around absorbing the feeling of the place. The locals all smile and nod, but no one tries to sell you anything. There are no cranes, no apparent construction, and apart from Julien, no sign of the west. We toured some ancient buildings…

We purchased some ingenious folding stools from a local village craftsman. Those are the stools the girls are sitting on in this photo with the carpenter and his son.

We bought some authentic calligraphy brushes from an artisan who is so painstakingly methodical in his approach that he took 10 minutes or more just to wrap them up.

And we hiked around the country side, including a trip to this great old pagoda one valley away.
But mostly we just sat around talking and joking with Julien like an old friend, watching the sun set on a place time had left behind. Once the sun had set, we could watch the fireflies dance their way above the mountain stream that bisects the village, dancing to the music of crickets and frogs. The more time we spent there, the more I wondered if the girls were really enjoying it. I hoped it would leave a strong impression of the inspiring beauty their homeland can achieve. While it could not compete with the swimming pools of the big hotels, or the personal impact of an orphanage visit, both of the girls are eager to return one day to Zhaji… so I guess I got my wish.

(Lisa, if you read this, thanks so much!)