I like the old Chinese custom of "revisiting old places," especially when the "places" are scenic spots or sites of historical importance.

That accounts for my ready acceptance of an invitation from an old farmer in the northern suburbs of Chengdu, the capital of Southwest China's Sichuan Province, to revisit his home and see the blossoming rape flowers that had so impressed me on my visit last spring.

Together with two friends, I got up early on a Saturday morning in mid-March and headed northward from the city proper.

On the way to Shuangli Village in Xindu, a suburban district of Chengdu, we were intoxicated with the large expanse of rape flowers on both sides of the road. The flowers, which were in full blossom, looked like a painting.

"Every first-time visitor to Chengdu would agree that it is the most beautiful season on the Chengdu Plain," said Ren Fuzhou, one of my friends.

Although he has lived in Chengdu since childhood, 54-year-old Ren, who works in the city's disease control and quarantine center, is still filled with joy every time he sees the rape flowers blossoming in the spring.

Known as the "Land of Abundance," the Chengdu Plain is one of China's most fertile farming areas. Since ancient times, the local people have planted rape to extract edible oil which is used for cooking.

But not until recently have the rape flowers been a major attraction for urban tourists who loathe the sea of modern steel-and-concrete buildings and want to mingle with nature on their holidays.

The rape flowers usually blossom in early March and last for about one month. As rape is major crop in the area, the rape flowers are seen everywhere on the Chengdu Plain. Their flowers are a spectacular in spring for people driving along country roads or expressways or even from the air for those who fly to Chengdu.

Because the country scenery was so beautiful we stopped by to take photos, and it was lunch time when we reached the home of our host Fu Changhua.

Sitting in front of Fu's home beside a river, we were served a home-style lunch beneath the same old orange tree I sat under last March.

As our lunch table was set beside the rape fields and the river, we could smell the fragrance of the flowers and feel the gentle breeze from the river.

I could not help thinking that time had passed by but that this beautiful scenery was eternal.

The lunch consisted of homemade bacon and sausages, chicken, bean curd, mushrooms, peas and lots of other vegetables fresh from the fields.

Sichuan people like eating bacon and sausages, which they make in winter for the Spring Festival. The homemade fare is hard to find after the festival because most of it is consumed in feasts.

We enjoyed the food very much and were pleased to hear Fu tell us that it was "environmentally friendly."

"Our pigs and chickens are fed with rice and vegetables rather than feed and no pesticides are used on our vegetables," said 63-year-old Fu.

After lunch, we were shown around the village of 800 people. Everything in Fu's village appeared "exotic" and of great interest to Ren and Hu Jian, my other friend.

Ren, a mahjong fan, watched three local old men playing a card game unique to the countryside of Sichuan. He finally joined them in the simple village teahouse to learn how to play it.

Hu, a young civil servant in Chengdu who had to stay in his tiny office every day, showed great interest in the newborn ducklings and the Fu's little dog and the way the local villagers carried pigs to the market for sale.

He spent nearly an hour watching and picking up the ducklings and playing with the little dog.

"I was so amused watching two local villagers tying pigs on the back of their bicycles and heading for the market that I used half a roll of film on them," Hu said.

Amidst the rape flower fields in the village were many stylish, new two-storey buildings.

We met Lei Huaming, Fu's son-in-law, who said the villagers could do well if they worked hard.

Every day, Lei delivers leeks to dumpling restaurants in Chengdu by motorcycle. "I've done it for 13 years. Each day, I get up at 2:30 am. By the time I have delivered the leeks and returned home it is already 8:30 am," Lei, 36, said.

Earning a monthly income of 1,000 yuan (US$121), Lei has a spacious two-storey new home. Asked if he felt that life was hard, Lei said: "I feel very happy, for I have a stable source of income, and my wife and 9-year-old daughter love me."

According to Fu, most local farmers, including Lei, do not envy city dwellers because they think that the city is too crowded and the air heavily polluted.

"People in the city live in very small houses like bird cages, while in the countryside we have much more spacious rooms," Fu said.

He said that before the 1990s, most villagers wanted to become townsfolk as the latter had many "luxuries," such as television and telephones.

But few people want to become urban residents now because everyone owns all the "luxuries" townsfolk have and also things they don't have - closeness to nature and fresh air.

As dusk fell, we finished our supper and headed for Chengdu, nearly 30 kilometers away from the village. Before we left, I insisted on paying Fu 200 yuan (US$24) for all his family's hospitality because we did not bring gifts.

Fu said that most villagers were very friendly to outsiders. For a small fee of 30 yuan (US$3.60), a visitor can stay in a farmhouse for one day, drinking tea and playing mahjong, along with two simple meals, he said.

On the way home, my two friends and I talked about our day out and although it had only been a short trip, we felt the temporary escape from the urban madding crowd had been worthwhile.

Apart from the fresh air, picturesque country scenery, "environment-friendly" food and lovely birds and animals, we were impressed by the hospitality shown by ordinary farmers and their optimistic outlook on life, things you too often don't find among city folk.

(China Daily March 25, 2004)