These days, the only thing I reliably keep updating on my blog is a running draft of everyday life. When I was a student, I would write a separate post after finishing a book, watching a film, or visiting somewhere new. Now I usually leave those small notes where they are, unless one particular outing takes up enough space to deserve its own article.

This weekend, one day was taken up by a work assignment at a construction site, where I carried my laptop along to revise documents. I wanted to use the other day to take Xiaoxiongzai somewhere. The destination could not be too far away, and most of the places around Shantou had already become familiar. Since early July was hot, I preferred somewhere with both water and shade. That was how I settled on Kelong Thousand Trees Park in Chenghai, a place I had never visited.

The entrance fee was 30 yuan, and online reviews were hardly enthusiastic. Some people said the park could be finished in half an hour and was little more than an ordinary public garden, perhaps not even as interesting as Zhongshan Park. Still, an unfamiliar place is worth seeing at least once. Even if it turned out to be disappointing, a change of surroundings would be better than staying at home all day. I was not expecting the sort of scenic spot that produces an immediate sense of wonder.

Xiaoxiongzai was delighted when she heard that we were going on a “trip.” I dug out the wheeled cartoon suitcase that Hillway had bought for her years ago and packed drinks, snacks, sun-protective clothing, a hat, and an umbrella inside. After moving at an unhurried pace all morning, we finally left home at half past ten.

The drive took about half an hour. Near the park, we passed a Lanzhou beef noodle restaurant. Breakfast had been little more than congee, and by 11:10 we were already hungry, so we decided to eat before entering. We ordered one bowl of beef noodles and one plate of beef fried noodles, paying 16 yuan altogether. The prices were about the same as in the city, but the portions were generous, and it took a long time to finish the noodles.

Xiaoxiongzai had eaten almost nothing that morning. I thought she might eat once we sat down at a restaurant, but she refused even one bite. She was probably thinking about the instant noodles in her suitcase. Hillway and I ate our fill, then bought a Black Beauty watermelon at the supermarket beside the restaurant. It was already slightly overripe.

A park with more locked gates than attractions

Close to noon, we exchanged our tickets and entered the park. The forecast said 26–30°C, but the sun still felt strong. We found a table and chairs in the shade, used hot water to prepare Xiaoxiongzai’s instant noodles, and Hillway and I dealt with the large watermelon.

Xiaoxiongzai picked up the noodles one strand at a time with a small fork. After more than half an hour, she had eaten only a small portion and left more than half of the bowl. When she shook her head and said she did not want any more, I could only sigh. She eats very little most days. Snacks bought at her request either remain untouched or lose only one or two pieces after being opened. If I ate like her, I probably would not have accumulated quite so much extra weight. Losing weight requires exercise, but eating less matters too.

On the right side of the entrance was a children’s playground with its gates firmly locked. At first I assumed it was closed because it was lunchtime. As we went farther in, however, it became clear that every amusement ride and play facility had been shut down. They had been left in the sun and rain, gradually aging without use or maintenance.

The large swimming pool was empty—not merely without swimmers, but without a drop of water. The barbecue area was also idle. Despite it being a weekend, very few visitors were inside. At first we thought we had the entire park to ourselves, though we later encountered a few other people here and there. With so little business, perhaps the facilities were no longer worth operating.

At one quiet corner, a woman came out of a small building and invited us to try one of the attractions. The dark green water in the pool and the rust covering the ride were enough to extinguish any interest I might have had. Without routine inspections, repairs, and operation, these facilities also seemed to carry obvious safety concerns.

The park had previously hosted a light festival, and wires were still visible in many places. Some were tangled around trees, some lay across the grass, and others had been soaked in muddy water. I could not help thinking of earlier news reports about people being killed by electric shocks. It was unsettling. The park had placed warning signs around the area, including notices that said, “Do not touch the lighting cables; compensation will be required for damage,” as if the signs themselves were considered sufficient protection.

The trees are there, but the explanations are not

In appearance, Kelong Thousand Trees Park is indeed a park: there are mature trees, lawns, ponds, and animal models. The most photogenic area is probably the one with three large elephants. News reports suggest that the site had previously held events such as a windmill festival and a light show. The abandoned rides made it seem as though the park had once been intended as a larger, all-purpose entertainment complex.

Personally, I felt it might have been better to focus on the “Thousand Trees” concept itself. The entrance fee could be lowered, and the park could become a place where children learn about plants and spend time close to nature. Yet almost none of the trees had names or explanatory signs. Apart from a few surviving information boards beside several large insect models, there was little educational material to be found. An agricultural technology garden that had existed in the past had disappeared as well.

We walked only a short distance at a time before looking for a pavilion to sit in. Moving at that leisurely pace, we still managed to see the whole park in roughly two hours. When we checked the time, it was only two o’clock. Going home then would have left us with too much time on our hands, so we stayed in a pavilion beside the lake, enjoying the breeze, eating snacks, and taking photographs.

We remained there until four. Xiaoxiongzai was still reluctant to leave and seemed to be having a good time, while Hillway and I felt that sitting any longer would become dull. We decided to leave the park and find somewhere else to go. But as soon as Xiaoxiongzai got into the car, she fell asleep. She snored softly all the way home and still had not woken up when we reached the garage.

The park’s small number of visitors does have one advantage: shaded pavilions and places to sit are easy to find. There are enough of them to make the grounds a reasonably quiet place to cool down and rest. Even so, with a 30-yuan admission fee, I would probably choose somewhere else next time.

People often post about going to farm restaurants for clay-oven chicken and similar meals, though we have never tried that. Hillway and I came away with an ordinary impression of Thousand Trees Park. Xiaoxiongzai saw it differently. Once home, she told Xiaomigua, “That place was so much fun! There were penguins, giraffes, and flamingos…”—all models, of course—and she was already looking forward to the next “trip.”