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This is one of the largest palace complexes in the world. It is 74
hectares (one-third of a square mile, the same area as 15 soccer
fields, about the same size as the National Mall in DC, or slightly
smaller than the Vatican City) rectangular area has nearly 10,000
buildings and rooms surrounded by a moat [52 meters/170feet wide, 6
meters/18feet deep] and a wall [actually, a rectangular prism that
is 10 meters/33feet high with an 8.6 meters/28feet base, retarding
to 6.7 meters/22feet top]. A visitor should give it no less than
three hours to walk through this 600-year old construction of the
Ming and Qing Dynasties. We took five hours, but that included an
hour intermission from this World Cultural Heritage site. During the
break, we kept our ticket stubs while departing through the West
Flowery Gate and over the moat. Alongside it, a broad expanse of
green, leafy roadway and sidewalk ran between the moat and the
Southern extension of Beihai Park. There were also several small,
nameless in English, but well identified in Chinese, restaurants in
wide spots between the moat and sidewalk.
We strolled by the first one, but as we approached the next
one, however, the proprietor and wait-staff (his family?) stood at
the door, enticing us inside. Once seated, we were faced with the
rare instance of being compelled to try something different because
we couldn't read the Chinese-only menu, though the prices were in
familiar digits. Surmising that the higher price meant either more
food (rice or noodles, and lots of it!) or a higher-quality (Eggs
Benedict instead of soft-boiled eggs would be my analogy), or even
possibly a combination of the both. We took a small chance with this
ordering in the blind—we each ordered three different prices.
Enrique's high-end meal was sumptuous presentation of roasted meat
kabobs, veggies, and lots of rice. Katarena's middle price had
pleasing cubed-chicken with pasta, and lots of rice. I, with the
lowest price, ate tofu―and lots of rice. I imagine that fish
was also available somewhere in that range, but there was no need to
find that out as all of the meals were most filling.
Going back outside, we resumed our exploration, strolling on a
bit farther North, toward Jingshan Park and the more-well-known
White Dagoba on Qiong Island in Beihai Lake. Many bicyclists passed
us, enjoying a dedicated lane as they wheeled the perimeter of the
Forbidden City complex. We noticed that sky had clouded over, so we
abruptly turned around to finish our tour. Walking back toward the
West Flowery Gate, we chanced upon a family who were having a
picnic, complete with musical accompaniment. It was the classic
stereotype of an elderly Chinaman with a white goatee played a
traditional erhua, a two-stringed Chinese violin, singing the words
in high-pitched voice. Meanwhile, his great grandson sailed a toy
boat in the moat and his great-granddaughter worked on a kite, while
other family members served home-made food—and a lot of rice—onto
separate dishes. It was delightful to see this family enjoying the
day, and I pushed my own on back into the museum.
Re-entering the Forbidden City through the West Flowery
Gate, we paced ourselves around and through the thousands of
building. Some are back rooms but others are stunning architectural
gems commemorating rulers and desires of a good food, good
relations, good intentions, good everything. As per a placard, many
centuries ago, should a person touch the good marble friezes, they
would instantly be put to a bad death. Much like what I had seen in
the depths of Carlsbad Caverns, it was a warning, but quite unlike
what I had seen there, this sign was adhered to. It also accounted
for my obvious hesitation to touch any relic, whether posted, such
as in Carlsbad Caverns, or not, a la the Roman wall in London. I
imagine that anybody living today might feel the same way about
vandals that graffiti their premises, tractor-trailer units, train
cars, or other physical surfaces. But, then, I also knew that should
I begin to remotely consider committing such an act, I would
immediately be seized and made an example of, a lesson to any other
lawbreakers. It was a bizarre juxtaposition, to see all this beauty
and notions of perfection to have something so imperfect as the
slavery and death penalties used to create and maintain it.
The most significant difference between this historical
field of jewels from other gems is that we were rarely inside
a building observing, but the buildings were all around us. We
existed as a moving part of the structures, the architecture
enveloped us, exhausting us as much from the visual as well as the
strenuous trek.
The now-threatening skies began to open up, forcing us to
run, finding shelter wherever possible. We eventually concluded our
thorough, if not rushed, tour by exiting from the East Magnificent
Gate, with no interference from the park administrators, as this,
too, was now their means of egress.
Fortunately, the rainfall lightened considerably into an
imperceptible mist as we walked East on the road, which divided
Chizi street between Nan to the North and Bei to the South. We
crossed it and strolled South on Bei Heyan, a wide, divided
boulevard that had impressive modern 5-star hotels and stores
alongside it. We also passed hutongs, meandering streets and alleys,
which were an archaic social classification system based upon
closeness to the Forbidden City, and predated the angular,
modern-city construction. But nearly all of Beijing is a first-world
city, and is preparing itself become host to a first-class Summer
Olympics of 2008.
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