Bats, seen in numerous carvings and sculptures in the Summer Palace complex, are a sign of happiness and longevity. These were found on a door, near the Harmony Court between the Long Corridor and the east entrance.
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Success only runs one direction....
Bats, seen in numerous carvings and sculptures in the Summer Palace complex, are a sign of happiness and longevity. These were found on a door, near the Harmony Court between the Long Corridor and the east entrance.
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Remember Cixi, the Spend-Spend-Spend Emperess? Well, here’s her crown jewel—the Marble Boat.
The original, simpler structure was destroyed during the Second Opium War. Cixi, however, resurrected it toward the end of her 1888 renovation, completing it in 1983 by diverting funds earmarked for the Chinese Navy, with the aid of corrupt eunuchs.
The base of the boat is a marble slab that originally served as a platform for a Buddhist monastery during the Ming Dynasty; from there, they’d free birds and fish originally intended for sale in the markets (earning them good karma). The wooden “Marble” ship was built on that same platform, complete with paddle wheels on the sides and elements of European architecture. The whole thing was painted to look like marble, thus the name.
In 1903, Cixi had the top story added, along with colored glass and mirrors in positions to give the impression the boat was actually floating on water.
Which it doesn’t do.
Not too hard to see how this might have irritated the Navy along the way, but still…pretty impressive for a big, white elephant.
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This tower is pretty impressive, three stories tall, with eight open sides to expose beautiful views in every direction. A statue of the Thousand Handed (Guanshiyin) Buddha is at the center, with a giant pearl hanging from the apex of the ceiling above its head(s). The gold gilding literally glows in the late afternoon sun, exuding a mystical quality of its own.
I can’t find anything that explains how the gold stayed in tact, since this dates back to the Ming Dynasty, long before Allied soldiers began scraping gold off the gold gilded cauldrons of the Forbidden City with their bayonets.
Chalk that up to another Chinese mystery.
(Photo credit: Vilas, from Picasa)
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Yes. Definitely worth the long, painful hike up. Just look at this view.
The main Palace complex is below, with Kunming Lake beyond it. You can see the myriad of ferry boats between the shore and South Lake Island, where visitors go to see the Temple of the Dragon King.
Beijing lays in the far distance.
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A peek at the ceilings in the stairways, on our way to the top of the mountain. No surface is left bare here. Amazing.
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This gate is near the Garden of Virtue and Harmony, home to the three-story-tall theater the Empress Dowager Cixi had built for her 60th birthday (in 1895). She’s responsible for much of the palace grounds…and much of the county’s financial pain paired with it.
Even though the Palace (which, ironically, isn’t just one structure, but an entire system of buildings, temples, gardens, and such) dates back to 1153, it was ransacked and virtually destroyed by Anglo-French forces in 1860 in retaliation for China’s defiance during the second Opium War. All that was left were nonflammable structures—the bronze pavilions and stone pagodas.
Twenty-eight years later, Cixi “kinda sorta” re-appropriated 30 millions taels of silver that were supposed to go to the Chinese Navy and “kinda sorta” spent them on rebuilding—and enlarging—the Summer Palace. In fact, that’s when she named it the Summer Palace.
Fast forward twelve years to 1900, when the next wave of destruction hit, this time when the Allied Forces invaded Beijing. Nearly all new construction was demolished, and all valuables were stripped and stolen by the troops.
But Cixi was a tough old cookie. Didn’t stop her from going for build out number three, this time in 1902 when, according to historical records, she “rebuilt the Summer Palace with unbounded extravagance and opulence, spending some 40,000 taels of silver per day. Singing and dancing went on without end.”
Which would have been fine, if not for the fact she ransacked the state coffers yet again.
Literally moments before she died, Cixi named the next, and final, Chinese Emperor—Puyi—who ascended the thrown just weeks before his third birthday. After the 1911 Revolution, the deposed Emperor retained the Palace as private property, but three years later opened it to the public.
When he was forcibly removed from the Forbidden City and Beijing, the Summer Palace was nearly destroyed yet again—this time, by the Chinese army. After the founding of the People’s Republic in 1949, restoration began one last time.
It took nearly four decades to bring the Summer Palace back to its original grandeur, but it is most certainly there.
And it is most certainly glorious.
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There it is. The high point of the palace grounds, and we’re headed that direction. The Pagoda of Buddhist Fragrance (aka, the Tower of Buddhist Incense). Right at the top of a 200 foot high staircase.
Between the Tian Tan Buddha, this morning’s climb on the Wall, and this, I sincerely expect to see a drop of at least three pounds on my bathroom scale upon returning home. I mean seriously.
Seriously.
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A peek at the ceiling in the Spring? Summer? pavilion. Breathtaking.
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