Riding Ningbo Jishigang, found a beautiful countryside, wall paintings have become a feature, came to say beautiful!

My weekend trip was originally planned to go to Panzhao Reservoir. I set off from Jiangbei, took a ferry at the Hanpu Ancient Ferry Terminal to the south bank of Yaojiang River, and then rode my motorcycle slowly to sneak around. I don't know the way, I had to follow the navigation guide all the way forward, about to arrive at the Panzhao Reservoir when I saw a village, the old houses are painted with wall paintings, both the red theme, but also the countryside style, each one is very beautiful. I couldn't help but be attracted by it, yet I didn't stop, I wanted to wait until I came back to enjoy it more. The further I went, the more beautiful the scenery became. Not only were there wall paintings, but there were also antique objects displayed in the windows of the walls, each of which looked like a work of art. This village is called Shanxiazhuang Village, and it is not an exaggeration to call itself a beautiful village.

After playing at the Panzhao Reservoir for a while, I returned the way I came and started to enjoy it slowly from the west end of the village. A row of narrow red slate road curved from the west end of the village to the east end of the village, north of the road there is a row of houses, the foundation of this row of houses is about half a meter above the road surface, you have to go up a number of steps in order to get into the yard. On either side of the door of each small, independent yard are several windows containing objects from the last century, each of which looks dated.

The first courtyard has a window display of abacuses, clay pots, enameled jars, and gas lanterns (or horse lanterns, as we call them back home). Further east, the windows of other yards also have coarse porcelain bowls, plates, teapots, telephones, clocks, boiling water bottles, hooded lamps and so on. These are all objects that I used often in my childhood.

East of these courtyards with windows is a temple of Pei Shengjun, with dark red walls, topped by a typical Ningbo horse-head wall design, and two door gods on the temple door that look like the New Year's paintings put up in the countryside during the New Year's. It is one of the many temples I've seen, and I've seen a lot of them. It is one of the most unique of the many temples I have seen.

Further on, there are two rows of green brick houses with ancient doors and windows set in the mottled walls, some of which are open, and the owner, who is in his fifties, stands inside the door, looking bashfully out of it, seemingly doing nothing. Toward the side of the fork in the road there are two whitewashed houses, written on the walls of the two vermilion characters "small store", the owner of the store stood in the door, looking out. The house is not large, I did not go in, I do not know what he is selling, and when I return, I found that some people went in to buy things, so it is really a small store.

The random and crowded houses turned the stone path in front of me into a small hutong, which spawned a number of smaller hutongs on either side, each of which housed several families. The late afternoon sunlight crossed the wall and projected into each hutong. The hutongs were half-light and half-dark, like a time tunnel, and as I walked through them, it was as if I had gone back to the old days. Once upon a time, I used to walk through such cramped alleys every day, hide and seek with my childhood friends, dig out bird eggs, or listen to the rain hitting the broken lotus. Childhood fades away, just when I want to forget them, these déjà vu landscapes make them clear. The children of the farmers, no matter what time, have a natural affinity for the countryside.

The colorful paintings on the outside of the walls of the houses of these families are of very different styles, and I was so fascinated by them that I couldn't help but pick up my camera and take pictures of them one by one. A few villagers came over and stood in the distance, and did not speak, quietly looking at me. I didn't say anything either, and took pictures by myself. However, I know that they are out of a stranger's natural precautions, look at a moment, do not feel like a bad person, and then walked away.

The hutong at the east end of the village is painted with a portrait of Panao's mom, which describes her in general terms. Panao mom is the Red Liaison I mentioned above, and a friend left a message saying she was her great-grandmother. The introduction next to the portrait was not very good, and it was so confusing that people who did not know the history of the area had no idea what it was talking about. In this hutong, an older woman about the same age as Panao's mother pulled up in a car and came down with a dog in her arms. I said to her, "You've done quite a job with this village, it's beautiful!" She said, "No, my daughter brought me here to play, I'm taking care of the dog for her."

Outside this hutong there is an open field, which is also the exit from the east end of the village. On the west side of the open field there is a wall with a red-themed painting, and underneath the wall there is a date palm, which has dense leaves that are crowded with dates. These dates were small and many of them were already red. I wondered how no one went to pick them, whether they were not tasty, or whether the people in the village were too pure and simple. He reminded me of the story I learned in my junior high school textbook that plums that no one picks on the side of the road must be sour. I did not go to pick these dates, I do not know whether it is bitter or not, or astringent.

I didn't leave and rode my motorcycle back to the west end of the village. There I saw a modest pond, half of which had lotus leaves growing, half of which had an open boat floating in the clear water. In the center was a viewing gallery surrounded by a viewing platform. Several rows of vases made of altars were placed on the fence. From this pool, you can see that the village is trying to create a poetic Jiangnan picture.

Standing at the head of the village and looking back, the whole village is lying quietly under the mountain, the white walls and tiles of the houses are scattered, behind the houses is half exposed green mountains, light blue sky with white clouds, become the background of this village. Such a mountain village in the increasingly hustle and bustle of the world, really like a paradise, become a touch of the most beautiful scenery.

I'm a traveler from Chuyue, discovering niche and interesting landscapes, telling interesting stories on the road, and updating my pictures every morning. I'm a traveler, and I'm a traveler, and I'm a traveler, and I'm a traveler.

I'm a traveler.