When the lights are green, the vehicles don't give a damn, and when the lights are red, the people don't give a damn!
- Vijay (crossing main streets), Beijing
The real deal - Gugong, basking in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. More soon.
The real deal - Gugong, basking in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. More soon.
We are back, and survived a day's meandering the streets around town and not getting mauled by giant tour buses. And today's tale is probably what left a real impact in the bohemian in me. We entered the Forbidden City from the north, via the Gate of Divine Might. This gave us a hint of the many imperious names that will grace the many important halls of the Gugong. As we made our way through the Imperial Garden, the many pavillions and trees (some purposely carved and coaxed to grow symbolizing "ren" as in human in Mandarin) served many purposes including where the Emperor delighted himself with his Empress and imperial concubines, where new concubines were being selected, and also where (Qianlong, particularly) pondered upon his decisions, edicts, thoughts, and where natural herbs and saps from the many trees that proliferated the gardens were studied as remedies for the warring soldiers.
As we moved towards the Palace of Heavenly Purity, it was a good moment to take some time alone to reflect on how this gargantuan of a slab landed in the middle of the Middle Kingdom. That was how I looked at it, from a macro level, it really behaved like a huge slab of marble, dotted with specks of gardens, colourful columns, put your ears on the endless spread of pavement and you may just hear the ancient pitter patter of the young Puyi. This place, was where the Mings and the Qings mainly became the central of focus of the world for having served as the home of the Son of Heaven and his household, ceremonial and political means for almost 5 centuries. Being the world's most comprehensive architecture built with 900 over surviving buildings, it still houses some of the most precious artefacts from the Ming and Qing dynasties (let's not get into the argument about the National Palace Museum in Taipei).
Being named Zijin Cheng, it literally meant the "Purple Forbidden City" and as the Qings came in, they brought with them shamanistic practices, including their Manchu language (hence, the dual inscription of each palace or hall's plaque). Its Manchu version, Dabkuri dorgi hoton, meant the "Layered Inner City". True enough, you do feel that you were being led into a Minotaurish experience with no rope to guide yourself back unless you continue to head south towards the more auspicious "yang" site of the Meridian Gate.
After much reading and asking, the significance of purple lied in the North Star, or Ziwei Xing, which in traditional Chinese astrology was the abode of the Celestial Emperor. I guessed being the anointed Son of Heaven and as pharoanic as it was, he was literally looked upon as the only means of communication with and from the heavens. And because he was the big boss, nobody left the city without his permission, including the princes, so I guessed too that it was a walled city. It housed many dreams that the poor living in the outside in the many thousands of hutong craved for, but it also held the diminishing hope of those who were dying to get out from this luxurious prison.
When Emperor Shunzi took over the abode and proclaimed himself the ruler of all China, most of the principal buildings were changed to be named differently, with an emphasis on "harmony" instead of "supremacy". The one good thing of the barbaric Qings was that they were clever enough to assimilate the Mings' intellect and created a subdued nation that respected the ruling force yet felt patronised enough to continue the confucian legacy of learning and values.
However, I loved the shamanistic side of these Qings dudes! It brought a certain kind of lightness to a very serious place to visit. I was very overwhelmed by the history of the whole place. This was where Qianlong took a nap, that was where Kangxi issued the annual proclamations, somebody got his head chopped off in this lane... I mean, it was quite a lot to take in! So, having found out that the Palace of Earthly Harmony became a place of Manchu Shamanistic ceremony, I was immensely pleased to see how well they merged, again, with the native Chinese Taoist as shown in the two Taoist shrines in the Imperial Garden and the central area of the Inner Court. Tibetan Buddhism was also widely held as shown from the Lamaist temples and shrines found almost as vast as you would scatter your coins in abundance. The Pavillion of the Rain of Flowers held a beautiful collection of Buddhist statues, icons, and mandalas. They were all breathtakingly beautiful and I was really glad that despite the many years in between, that China saw wars, attacks, the Great Leap Forward, and the Cultural Revolution (which I was glad that Zhou Enlai put some guards to at least prevent the whole place from being ransacked and flattened), these national treasures stayed on.
Of all the many halls, I loved the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The Gates were imposing already but to see where the many emperors sat and crowned, it gave me goosebumps. I felt as if this was a place that had everything conceivable by the human mind yet as I walked out into the business of Dong Chang'an Jie, to think that the empress could only walk through the Meridian Gate once on her wedding day and never again, was something I could not relate to. I felt I saw a lot yet I felt I knew so little about this part of Chinese history. It went through years of opulence, conquered dynasty after another through might, raped by foreign forces and corrupted officials, the many dreams unfulfilled, the many hopes broken, and the shroud of grandeur and mystery that it posed to the outside world. What led to the Gugong being conceptualised yet what led to its downfall?
Perhaps it is appropriately named. The Forbidden City will forever hold its allure as a delicate violet petal on your hand. Hold it too tight and you crush it. Let it float and ponder, I may eventually see the answer I seek.
At dusk, we met with another mate, Mark Williams, a Queenslander who decided to study Mandarin because it had "all those funny writing" and now, found himself based in Beijing for 10 years. He took us to Gui Jie, literally Ghost Street for its infamous hot pot. I think this place is named as such because it closes really late, and it never closes as long as there is still a customer inside. The whole place was littered with hot pot joints and we had one that was very much to our satisfaction. We ended the night at Beihai at this pub called "Zone" and so far, I must say, after enduring all the squat work I had to do, this pub was the only decent one that had a toilet bowl. Enough said!
