The Forbidden City

Here’s a final post on my very first visit to China in August 1998. You’ll recall my hotel’s tour desk organized a private tour of the Great Wall at Simatai. They also booked me a private day tour covering three of Beijing’s most famous imperial landmarks. This included a morning tour of the majestic Temple of Heaven, a tour of the expansive Forbidden City and an afternoon touring the Summer Palace.

While I was vaguely familiar with the Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven was completely new to me. Interestingly, whenever local artisans attempt to capture the spirit of their city, they'll often turn to images and silhouettes of the distinctive conical roof capping the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. It's the largest building in the Temple of Heaven complex and instantly stops you in your tracks the first time you see it.

I’ve subsequently visited the temple twice, once with Garry and once with my parents. My blog post about Garry’s visit includes some of its history and its strategic role in imperial Chinese culture. However, for now, I'll give the Imperial Vault of Heaven a quick shout-out. It is surrounded by a smooth circular wall. Known as the Echo Wall, visitors can stand on opposite sides of its internal courtyard and hear each other talk.

The Forbidden City proved every bit as iconic as guidebooks promised. The sheer scale of the complex is hard to comprehend. The compound, surrounded by massive stone walls, is a rectangle 961 metres from north to south and 753 metres from east to west. It contains 980 surviving buildings with 8,886 rooms, a figure which excludes antechambers. As a result, my guided tours took several hours to trace a route north from the Meridian Gate, near Tiananmen Square, to the Gate of Divine Prowess that leads into Jingshan Park.

Meridian Gate is a spectacular entrance. The gate itself is framed by two massive red brick walls on either side extending towards the south. The walls rise more than 12 metres and are capped by a series of ornate Que pavilions (you can see one of these in the image above). The top of the central pavilion sits more than 60 metres above the surrounding courtyard, resulting in a truly dramatic entrance.

The gate has five arches. Three central arches are close together in the main, central section, while two smaller flanking arches lie closer to the protruding wings. The largest central arch was reserved for the emperor’s exclusive use, while all other officials and servants had to use the four side arches.

Once through the gate visitors then proceed through a series of enclosed courtyards, inner gates, and internal moats before finally reaching the emperor’s innermost sanctum. Each of these structures is awe-inspiring. The statistics rattled off by the guide as you walk are simply mind-boggling. 

For example, here’s an extract from Wikipedia, describing just the outer walls. Imagine, if you can, similar descriptions progressively bringing to life each courtyard, ceremonial gate, imperial structure, and palace life in general.  

The Forbidden City is surrounded by a 7.9-metre-high city wall and a 6-metre-deep by a 52-metre-wide moat. The walls are 8.62 metres wide at the base, tapering to 6.66 metres at the top. These walls served as both defensive walls and retaining walls for the palace. They were constructed with a rammed earth core and surfaced with three layers of specially baked bricks on both sides, with the interstices filled with mortar.

The hotel tour desk arranged one final tour during my time in Beijing, a half-day trip to the sprawling Summer Palace complex in the city’s northern suburbs. My private guide took me through the entire palace complex from the main entrance through the primary residence and along a 728-metre-long passway (aptly named the Long Corridor) towards an iconic white marble paddle steamer.

Along the way, I took time out to climb the hundreds of steps leading up to Foxiang Ge (Tower of Buddhist Incense). This ornate nine-story pavilion sits 60 metres above the surrounding area on the slopes of Wanshou Shan (Longevity Hill). The view from here, overlooking Kunming Lake, is breathtaking, to say the least.

The Silk Bridge and Peace Garden were equally memorable. The garden is a replica of one in Wuxi. Apparently, when Emperor Qianlong went south on an inspection tour, he visited the Jichag Garden (Garden for Ease of Mind) in Jiangsu province. He liked it so much, that he had it recreated in the Summer Palace.

You can read more about the Summer Palace here after taking my parent to see it in 2012. On this second occasion, we didn’t climb Longevity Hill, but did take a boat trip across Kunming Lake. To date, Garry’s never seen the palace.

The following day I caught an early morning flight with British Airways to London. My flight departed from Terminal 1, Beijing Airport’s first modern-era international gateway. This modest building was constructed in 1980, replacing an even smaller, austere Mao-era structure.

It consisted of two stubby wings with distinctive late-70s style interiors, each terminating in a circular atrium with half a dozen departure gates. In the distance, you could see a larger, new terminal under construction. I read recently that Terminal 1 was refurbished and updated shortly after its new neighbour opened the following year. As a result, like much of Beijing's infrastructure at the time, I was lucky to experience its original and archaic formation.

I distinctly recall an old woman sitting behind a simple trestle table next to one departure gate. She was selling handmade souvenirs including miniature terracotta warriors, and other iconic handmade trinkets. It was a genuinely ramshackle affair. Her clay figurines were smeared with residual factory mud and clumps of straw.

The new terminal was opened by the time I returned five years later. However, the airport quickly outgrew this building and a massive third terminal was constructed. I’ve also passed through this third building on multiple occasions. Incredibly, Beijing has now built an entirely new airport on the city’s southern flank to cope with growing demand. As for that first terminal I visited all those years ago, it’s now home to secondary airlines offering domestic flights. Over the years, I’ve seen a similar transformation unfold at airports in Xian and Shanghai.

Simatai Great Wall

I'm currently preparing a series of retrospective posts about my first visit to China. I spent four days in Beijing while travelling to the UK for business in 1998. You can read about my first time in Tiananmen Square here, and my first tour of the Summer Palace here. This post covers my first visit to the Great Wall of China. It was the first of four I've enjoyed over the years.

Like everyone visiting China for the first time, I was keen to see the Great Wall of China. However, I also wanted to experience more of the real China. As a result, while briefing my hotel's tour desk, I asked to see a section of the wall most tourists never visit. The desk manager took heed of my brief and organized a day trip with a private guide and driver to Simatai.

The Simatai Great Wall is located 120 km northeast of Beijing. It takes a couple of hours to reach it by car offering a section of wall that's 5.4 km long, punctuated by 35 beacon towers. At the time of my visit, some parts were fully restored, while others remained in disrepair. Since then, if tourism websites are to be believed very little has changed.

The wall is separated by a valley into eastern and western sections. The eastern section is the more dramatic of the two. It ascends steeply from the valley floor, about 200 metres above sea level, and traces the ridge line of increasingly rugged terrain that rapidly morphs into dramatic cliffs and 1000-metre-high peaks.

I spent my time exploring the eastern section as the western section is closed to tourists. An open-air cable car ascends from the valley car park to a restored mid-section of the wall. From here you can either walk down towards the valley on a partially restored wall or climb more ramshackle sections that eventually straddle a steep granite cliff face. I decided to climb the entire downhill stretch starting on the valley floor and ascending to the restored section, before retracing my steps back to the cable car.

The return hike took several hours, far longer than I’d anticipated. I also forgot to factor in a leisurely return journey on the cable car. As a result, by the time I'd returned to my guide and driver, I was more than an hour late. My guide was beside herself. She thought I’d experienced some sort of misfortune and was beginning to panic. The return journey to Beijing was rather uncomfortable as she continually reminded me how she’d never had a guest run so late.

Simatai was magic. The landscape is truly stunning, while the combination of restored and ramshackle walls feels more authentic than other sections I’ve subsequently explored. The hillside’s steep rise also meant that even the restored wall was often narrower than other popular tourist sections, and thus felt even more dramatic.

The wall is so steep in parts that it narrows into an endless series of stairs barely wide enough for one person to pass, while other sections were broad and gentle enough for ancient soldiers to traverse it on horseback. Its varying construction also means you can experience ramparts extending from both sides of the wall, as well as slimmer alternatives that only extend outwards to the once hostile north.

If you've enjoyed this post, you can relive my day trips to the Great Wall at Mutianyu, first with Garry in 2003, and then again with my parents in 2012. I also visited the Great Wall in the dead of winter at Badaling in January 2003. Without a doubt, walking the wall in falling snow was truly memorable!

China in the 90s

I visited China for the first time in 1998. I spent four days in Beijing en route to a global training event for Text 100, a burgeoning public relations consultancy I’d joined earlier in the year. The timing of my visit proved incredibly fortuitous. At the time China was undergoing a period of rapid and transformative development. As a result, I saw unique aspects of daily life that were long gone when I returned in January 2003.

Perhaps the most dramatic of these changes came with the urban traffic I encountered. I vividly recall standing at the intersection of Zhengyi Road and Qianmen East Street, one block east of Tiananmen Square on my first day in town. The intersection is one of central Beijing’s busiest crossroads as Zhengyi Road is a major north-south thoroughfare while Qianmen Street is a major east-west boulevard.

As I stood waiting for the lights to change, I witnessed a sea of bicycles waiting patiently at the intersection, while another swarm of bikes passed through the multi-lane intersection. Incredibly, only a relatively light flow of motor vehicles was visible in either direction. 

All around the city, I saw bike racks overflowing with dozens and dozens of bikes. I’ve never seen so many bikes and cyclists in one location in my entire life. Four years later, at the same intersection, the bikes were gone, replaced by a sea of cars in either direction. Decades later, I still marvel at this extraordinary transformation in a few short years.

I flew into Beijing on 31 July 1998 on QF187. I then spent three days exploring the city before flying to London with British Airways on the morning of 4 August. My travel agent booked me into the Capital Hotel, located one block east of Tiananmen Square. This four-star hotel opened in 1989. At the time it was one of Beijing's earliest premier hotels offering world-class facilities for foreign visitors. For my visit, its central location proved ideal for exploring many of the inner city’s iconic sights.

I packed a lot into my 3.5 days on the ground. I spent an hour with the hotel tour desk on my first morning, booking guided tours before venturing out on a self-guided tour of Tiananmen Square and popular sites around the inner city. I kicked things off with a subway ride to Yonghe Temple, also known as the Lama Temple, Beijing's largest Buddhist Temple.

I was keen to compare this temple with those I’d enjoyed in Japan five months earlier. It didn’t disappoint. It’s an impressive ornate complex but inevitably lacked some of Japan’s immaculate cleanliness and finesse. I later learned it was built in 1694, as part of the original city wall for Emperor Yongzheng, before he acceded to the throne in 1722.

I then returned to Tiananmen Square for a guided tour of The Great Hall of the People and a visit to the Mausoleum of Mao Zedong. To get there I hired a pedicab driver who'd been waiting patiently for a fare outside my hotel. I was duly transported two blocks to the square for less than three Australian dollars.

Tiananmen Square is enormous, It measures more than 765 metres long by 282 metres wide. It’s honestly hard to grasp just how vast it really is. The square’s southern flank is marked by Zhengyangmen, a restored gateway that once formed part of a long-gone inner-city wall. The northern perimeter is dominated by the iconic Tiananmen Square gate renowned worldwide for its giant portrait of Chairman Mao.

I was keen to see Mao’s preserved body lying in state inside the Mausoleum. This imposing building sits across the middle of the square’s southern end. However, I discovered the Memorial Hall containing his crystal coffin was closed. I consoled myself with a visit to the North Great Hall, an outer sanctum traditionally used by visiting dignitaries to pay their respects to the late Chairman.

The hall is dominated by a 3.5-metre-high white marble statue of Mao surrounded by potted palms. On the opposing wall, an intricate silk tapestry called "The Vast Homeland" extends almost 24 metres along the hall. You’re not permitted to take photos inside. However, for a small fee, an official photographer will take a Polaroid snap to preserve your visit for posterity. Naturally, I couldn’t resist getting my own official photo. Incredibly, 26 years later, this photo is as sharp and clear as ever.

Tiananmen Square’s northern zone is flanked on either side by imposing civic buildings including the collonaded Great Hall of the People. The open plaza also features several national icons including the Monument to the People's Heroes, an austere white obelisk, and an honour guard standing vigil below a flagpole. 

A short ceremony sets the flag each morning, followed by a second ceremony to remove it in the evening. The open plaza here is also a popular gathering place for locals. During my visit, at the height of Summer, vendors were selling colourful eagle kites that children took great delight in flying overhead.

The Great Hall was astonishing. It consists of three main zones including The Great Hall, China's largest auditorium, plus a banquet hall and various plenary meeting rooms. The Great Hall lives up to its name, seating up to 10,000 people. This includes 3,693 seats on the lower floor, 3,515 on the balcony, 2,518 in the gallery and up to 500 on the elevated front dais. The ceiling with a distinctive backlit red star motif is equally impressive. The hall is honestly more akin to a mini stadium.  

I took a tour of the building that included the hall, the State Banquet Hall with enough space to entertain 7,000 guests, and some of its more intimate provincial meeting rooms. Every administrative province in China has its own room. Each is decorated with a mural depicting an iconic local scene. The image above was taken in the Shanghai Hall with a mural depicting the Bund waterfront at night. However, the mural was updated with a view of the ultra-modern Pudong skyline a few months after my visit.

I completed my first visit to the Chinese capital with a walk through the hutong streets south of Zhengyangmen, and a ride on the subway to the Central Radio & TV Tower. However, I am trying to remember if I ventured up the tower? I suspect this happened on a subsequent business trip to China as I remember visiting it at some point.

I count myself lucky to have seen China in the early years of its economic transformation.  The classic hallmarks of a socialist centrally planned economy were still in place and very much visible. The Beijing I saw in 1998 was a time capsule of sorts with architecture and infrastructure harking back to the 1960s and 1970s. Within a few short years, the urban landscape in Beijing (and elsewhere in China)  dramatically changed. The old world was gone.