草堂 is a thatched dwelling — a hall you could live under — not a scenic “grass temple.” Walk up and the air changes: dry straw after rain, cool dirt under the eaves, low bamboo frames that keep the rooms spare on purpose.
Glance at the tiled memorial halls nearby — taller, shinier, tour-bus friendly. The thatch stays lower and plainer so the gate word still means roof, not museum wing. Du Fu’s Tang timber is gone; this is later carpentry with one job — make 草堂 visible as shelter.
Inside, don’t expect furniture theater. The emptiness is the point: a poet’s working hut scale, even when every beam is rebuild.