My Travels in Beijing(I& II)

A feeling of thankfulness typified my travels in Beijing. I was there with my mother and brother.

The first place we visited was the Forbidden City, which stood out with majestic aloofness from among the other structures. The front portion of the palace, with the giant oil portrait of Chairman Mao atop the entrance, exuded the spirit of communism. Impressed by the grand architecture, we went from one hall to another. Although each hall represented a different realm, it was essentially characterised by an arched roof upon both ends, perched figurines of different fortune animals ranging from bats to qilins, an emperor’s seat, tall poles patterned with elaborate fretwork, and a courtyard garden with quaint landscaping. Every now and then, at the gates, roamed soldiers dressed in Qing uniforms, giving the palace an anachronistic touch. 

The Forbidden City was truly a sight to behold—a must-visit if you come to Beijing. Heavy snow had fallen the day before our visit, and the surroundings were speckled with whiteness. The sight of the snow-flecked trees and buildings yielded numerous photos, and the crisp, cold air of the morning seeped through the thick fabric of our jackets and cardigans, making us hug ourselves. Despite the cold, it felt wonderful to be ambling through the palace museum with my mother and brother, and the golden roofs and magenta walls of the Forbidden City imprinted themselves on the terrains of my mind.

The next place we visited was the Great Wall of China in Mutianyu, another stretch of the Great Wall besides the famous one in Patalin. Mother decided not to climb the Great Wall because she had done it two years ago with my brother. My brother offered to be my tour guide for the trip. We saw scores of fat stray cats on our way to riding a cable car to the Great Wall. They were tame and were not afraid of strangers.

Upon reaching the Great Wall, I was blown away by its grandeur. The crenelated walls stretched serpentine over slopes of mountains, punctuated by towers at the intersections. As I inched my way along the path, I could not help wondering what it would have been like had I been one of the soldiers fighting off the encroaching foreign forces in exactly the same spot thousands of years ago. While watching the enemy advance towards the Great Wall through the gaps in the battlement, they must have had mixed feelings.

Because I was wearing leather shoes, whose grooves were not as deep as those of sports shoes, I had problems maintaining my footing on the frost-encrusted path of the Great Wall. I ended up retiring on a bench outside the entrance, experiencing vicarious joy by watching my brother and the other visitors exerting themselves on the climb. When they disappeared from my sight, I texted my brother to check on his progress. My concentration was interrupted by a crying English baby cradled in the arms of her mother. A group of middle-aged women from Fujian came up to them and offered the mother some advice. I helped to interpret, pointing out that the baby was wearing too little, but the mother insisted that her clothing was not a problem. “She has layers of clothes on her,” she said.

When it was afternoon, my brother joined me at the entrance, exclaiming that despite having climbed the Great Wall before, the sights still struck him greatly. “The climb provides views of different dimensions” was his verdict. I felt so bad for wearing the wrong pair of shoes.

Throughout my ten-day stay in Beijing, I also visited many shopping malls with my mother and brother. But since they were generally the same as those back in Malaysia, I have decided not to mention them here. 

The third place we visited was Tiangtang, the Temple of Heaven, which consisted of three prominent architectures across a spacious square: The Hall of Prayer, the Imperial Vault of Heaven, and the Circular Mound Altar.

The Imperial Vault of Heaven was easily noticeable at the centre, with its unique rotund hulk, bedisened with an engraving-covered circular wall that dazzled the eyes with its multiple colours. Its three-tiered roof, according to my brother, resembled the crown of an emperor. In the interior, one could see several tablets and incense urns, each elaborately made and looking grand. There was something worth mentioning about the wall, too—it could transmit sounds over large distances. My brother made various funny voices, and he enticed a pair of young lovers to come and test theirs. However, a strange thing happened—no matter how loud they were, their voices would not echo off the walls. Disappointment was written on their faces, but I personally felt that they had not “aimed” their voices at the right angle.

In contrast to the Imperial Vault of Heaven, the Circular Mound Altar was an empty  platform on three levels of marble stones, each decorated by intricately carved dragons. The centre of the altar was a round slate called the Heart of Heaven. We took turns standing on it and were surprised to find that our voices were amplified each time we spoke. It turned out that the entire altar had been designed in such a way that when an emperor was reciting prayers, his voice would be clearly heard by his retinue of officers through an acoustic system that resulted when his voice came in contact with, and was reflected by, the guard rail, which I thought must have been hollow on the inside.

The Hall of Prayer, a wooden building used by an emperor to pray for good harvests, was simpler in architecture. We watched its perimeter cursorily.

The fourth prominent place we visited was Hou-Hai, a hutong area along a scenic lake, where a cluster of hundred-year-old shops and houses was situated. Wherever we went, serried ranks of buildings wound their way through from one end of the street to another. In some alleyways, you could see different stall vendors selling clothes, watches, snacks, and the like. I could not help buying a skewer of barbecued lamb and enjoying its tender juiciness as I walked. Some shops harked back to the 1930s; some were high-end, like those at department stores, and some were the likes of Starbucks, serving quality brew. In addition, the billboards alone made for spectacular views, each having a style of its own. In some residential areas, you could see people going about their daily routines, exuding a simple, down-to-earth charm that made us smile. Having roamed for two hours, we finally decided to settle down for lunch. But, alas! We had little money left. We solved the problem by sharing a plate of Teriyaki chicken rice at an economic Japanese restaurant. Mother ate first, followed by me and my brother.

The visits to all four places were memorable. I thanked the Lord for giving us such an opportunity.