China’s Shengsi Archipelago, part of the larger Zhoushan Archipelago, juts out into the East China Sea, overlooking Hangzhou Bay, around 60km southeast of Shanghai. Of the 400 or so Shengsi Islands, less than 20 are inhabitable, one of which is the fascinating fishing village of Houtouwan.
Until the 1990s, the village hosted around 3,000 souls, including 2,000 fishermen. But the combination of the village’s isolation—which caused evermore problems in terms of education and food delivery—and being unable to compete with the booming fisheries of Shanghai forced an exodus of residents in search of better opportunities on the mainland. And like a modern-day Angkor Wat, where man has moved out, nature has now moved in.
Thanks to the power of social media, the ghost town has, in the last few years, been, of sorts, reborn, attracting a glut of tourists—mainly, ironically from Shanghai—keen to capture this most fertile of otherworldly towns. A viewing platform affords an aerial view for around $5.
Though the village was officially depopulated in 2002, a handful of hardy souls do still inhabit Houtouwan, but rather than earn a living from the surrounding seas, they earn their crust from tourists keen to take a peek into this forgotten rural backwater that has surrendered to its surrounding shrubbery. Lin Fazhen is one such soul, who, when asked by the Associated Press if she thinks that she might now share her hometown with ghosts retorts: “I’ve lived in this world for such a long time, and have never met one, right?”
Considered one of China’s most beautiful abandoned settlements, its 500 or so homes cling to cliff faces overlooking Hangzhou Bay. And now in turn, thick, lush vegetation clings to their brick and stone walls, in some cases, covering them so entirely that the buildings blend completely, chameleon-like, into their surrounds.
Xu Yueding and his wife Tang Yaxue, reports the Atlantic, who fled more than two decades ago, return daily to their former home, to act as guides and sell tourists bottles of water—the only goods available to purchase from the village. Though you can’t stay in the village, adjacent hubs have capitalised on its emerging popularity, offering beds and a bounty of seafood from the waters through which it once thrived.
Considered one of China’s most beautiful abandoned settlements, its 500 or so homes cling to cliff faces overlooking Hangzhou Bay. And now in turn, thick, lush vegetation clings to their brick and stone walls, in some cases, covering them so entirely that the buildings blend completely, chameleon-like, into their surrounds. Occasional smatterings of flowers break up the various shades of rich green—especially during summer—all interconnected by equally, gnarly camouflaged roads. Where some plants such as vines and ivy have eerily crept up the exteriors, roofs have collapsed in on themselves. Inside, aside from the dust and the undergrowth, many homes remain frozen for eternity; furniture and belongings, though decaying, bear testament to a previous life, a previous time.
