A southern pearl struggles to balance past and present

It is a classic tale of a small town boy making it big. Only in the case of Chaozhou, it's boys, plural. This county-sized city in the east of Guangdong Province has been an incubator for some of the most successful overseas Chinese entrepreneurs, including Hong Kong telecommunications tycoon Li Jiacheng.

While its native sons are changing the world, Chaozhou is trying to catch up with it. This is a city caught between past and present, struggling to preserve its traditional culture while simultaneously scratching its way into modern times. It's a rocky road - literally, as evidenced by the rough, unfinished street that visitors must travel in order to reach Jia Di Jie, the renovated row of Qing- and Ming-era houses that's among Chaozhou's main tourist draws.

Unfortunately, inadequate infrastructure has hampered Chaozhou's efforts to attract visitors and put a damper on economic development. The first - and only - train station was erected in 1995. Not until 2001 did the first highways connect the city to yonder parts of Guangdong Province. And the city is so small by Chinese standards that it doesn't even warrant its own airport.

Those travelers who do find their way to Chaozhou find a city that's eager but not quite ready for prime-time tourism. West Lake Park, the long-standing hub of entertainment for Chaozhou people, has fallen into disrepair. The biggest museum in the city, Chaozhou Museum, is in the dark most of the time; the management keeps the electricity off to cut costs. Even when the lights come on, there's little to see within the museum's aged red walls. A meager collection of cultural relics, with hand-written explanations, reveals little about the area's 1,000 years of history. The Confucian temple in the rear of the museum has also fallen prey to half-hearted modernity, with electric-powered candles and plastic ornamentation providing a stark contrast to the rusty canons and worn broken steles that remain.

Jia Di Jie is a similar example of good intentions gone awry. The government has invested significant money in renovating the classic Ming- and Qing-era courtyard homes along this short, narrow street. But the bumpy road leading to this tourist draw remains unfixed, and the reworked facades lack the craftsmanship, aesthetics and historic values of the original residences still standing just a block or two away. It is here, on the parallel side streets, that tourists will find a true glimpse into the heart of Chaozhou, a peek into the undisturbed existence of the residents whose families have lived here for generations. There are unthreateningly low walls, spacious and open living rooms kept out of view only by a screen, greenery grown in sun and air, and last but not least, intricate wood carvings on four corners of the roof. At one time, wealthy families' homes had facades depicting scenes from Chaozhou operas; sadly, many of these were scraped off during the Culture Revolution.

Through good times and bad, the Han River has connected Chaozhou to the outside world. Outside the city's east and south gates - two of the four landmark entrances to the old city, a 15-minute bike ride separating one from the other - the river feeds Chaozhou before flowing into the South China Sea. Along the way, it passes the newly renovated south bank. This broad boulevard's overgrown trees, dressed-up pavilions and ever-present neon lights creating a thoroughly modern carnival atmosphere beside the timeless river.

The Han also provides Chaozhou its biggest claim to fame: its seafood. Chaozhou cuisine resides high atop the list of the country's most-loved regional cuisines. Unlike their northern cousins, Chaozhou people are light-handed in flavouring the ingredients - often with no more than a touch of ginger, garlic or onion - while retaining the original tang of the seafood. The sheer variety of combinations of ingredients and cooking methods is a gastronomic wonder and a source of great pride; it's possible to never taste the same dish twice.

One tradition begets another. To accompany their seafood specialties, Chaozhou people imbibe kungfu tea. Indeed, this traditional drink does take some kungfu (work); strict rules govern a painstaking and fascinating tea-making and drinking process that has been passed down through the generations.

It's a tradition that's alive and well. Kungfu tea is served any time of day, anywhere: home, work, in bars even. Chaozhou people who live away from their hometown carry with them the traditional tea set, with its cane fan, charcoal-burning stove and three tiny cups. Kungfu is even fashionable among the younger generations. On the most hip-shopping strip in Chaozhou, it is common to see KFC-eating teenagers in their motor-racing or hip-hop outfits sitting around a small table and chatting over kungfu tea.

When Chazhou ren drink kungfu to their health, perhaps they can toast to the city's health as well. There are some bright spots. The Kai Yuan Temple is thriving, largely due to donations from Chaozhou natives who struck gold in Hong Kong or other Southeast Asian countries. A generous endowment keeps the 10,000-square-meter temple in peak shape after more than 1,000 years of existence.

The temple is also home to the most influential Buddhism Study Institute in Southeast China. The grounds are welcoming and inviting, with airy sidewalks and open courtyards. Inside, handsome calligraphy and inscribed steles remind visitors that this temple once functioned as the record keeper of the city. In a way, it has resumed that role. For through the efforts of its native sons, the temple is a success story, a striking example that Chaozhou's past can coexist with a present that is changing - slowly, but surely.

Editor: Catherine