Saturday, May 18, 2013

a royal city palace


I woke up to our last day in Guilin with somewhat of a stomach ache. Sickness and injury are the ultimate bane of travel, and I skipped a traditional breakfast, hoping to avoid exacerbating a stomach bug. Instead, I availed myself of our hotel's famous cappuccino, and found myself feeling much better by the time I had finished.

My father and I then went out pastry shopping. We had passed a number of bakeries in Guilin, and my father was hoping to find some tasty baked good for breakfast. We walked the entire length of a pedestrian walk (passed a number of other bakeries) to get to one I remembered as seeming nice. Everything seemed okay until we turned over the packaging and found the prices. Many of these simple little breads cost ¥120 and up! Uninterested in shelling out US$20, we backtracked to the other bakeries, bouncing in and out of a few before finally settling one a shop that had a good variety and fair prices.

Breakfast complete, I directed us to the Guilin City Palace. Styled in much the same way as the larger and more famous Forbidden City in Beijing, the Guilin City Palace actually predates the Forbidden City by around 40 years. Paying for a ticket, we were shown around by a very respectful and interesting guide. We were given the history of the city and brought into the throne room. Twice burnt to the ground (most recently in the 1800s) the throne room as been rebuilt to showcase the history of the palace grounds. We were treated to our far share of gimmicks: two "guards" opened the door to a "throne room" that was actually an image projected on a screen; and two dancers preformed 2 minutes worth of a three-hour traditional dace. Cheesy, perhaps, but I found myself enjoying it.

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The entrance to the city palace.

We were then brought into a Confucian cave carved into the single limestone peak that towers over the palace. Inside, carved images of figures representing each year of birth greeted the devout and the visitors alike. When I was taken to the figure representing 1986, our guide stopped short. With an uneasy tone, he informed me that my year had "warning symbols" associated with it. Every ten years or so, a figure is given a "warning symbol" represented by a single red Chinese character beneath the figure. 1986 has two symbols, one of only two years with this usual designation. Our guide explained that the devout would interpret these symbols to mean that they should "beware in their job" and "beware of traffic." Which means all my aspirations as a crossing guard just went out the window.

Leaving the cave, we were treated to a demonstration of the Pubic Official's test. In ancient China, subjects of the Emperor could rise through a total of seven ranks by taking a series of standardized tests. After a brief explanation (in Chinese) we were directed to a cubby hole, where we were given an exam (also in Chinese), a calligraphy brush, and ink. I began attempting to imitate reasonably simple Chinese characters - to the amusement of many passers-by - but had the exam snatched away from me before I had completed my second character. It turns out that I all but flunked the test, which meant that I had to watch on as the two brightest students were hastily draped in costume robes and presented before us. 

Leaving the Academy, and bidding our guide farewell, my father and I then began the 291 step accent of the "Solitary Beauty Peak." The same peak beneath which the Confucian cave is carved, the number of steps beguiles the true rigors of the climb. For one: these were massive steps. I'm tall, and I like large steps. Heck, I'll often take 'em two at a time. Not these steps; no way. Secondly: while steep, they were not very wide. Certainly not meant for size 10 boots. And last, we were negotiating this climb admits a sea of other visitors. 

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Climbing down.

Somewhat out of breath, my father and I both eventually made it to the top of the peak, and the views of Guilin were splendid. We made sure to stay up there long enough to justify the physical exertion, and then slowly made our way down. Having free reign of the palace grounds, we explored some of the roads less travels, arriving at a library and the grounds of a university. We also made it to a wonderful little Zen Island, though we did not linger as the sky threatened rain.


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A view of the Solitary Beauty Peak from Zen Island.

Leaving the City Palace, we stocked up on some provisions for our train ride, and returned to our hotel to kill some time. Ordering a simple lunch, my father and I spent an hour or so talking with the girl who was working at the cafe. A student at the university, she worked at our hotel 2 days a week for ¥5 an hour. If I've ever complained that Work-Study doesn't pay enough, I take it all back, because ¥5 doesn't even break US$1.

Finally, we caught a taxi to the train station, where we waited for the (unsurprisingly) delayed train. To kill the time, I introduced my father to Backgammon, which I had downloaded on the iPad. Playing a few games, we then became the pre-train entertainment for a young Chinese boy. Cautiously curious, he starred us down for quite some time. Urged my his mother, the young boy then came to shake both my father's hand and mine. We exchanged a few simple pleasantries, and I rooted through my bag to find a US Quarter. When my father handed the US quarter to the child, half a dozen uncles and grandparents gathered around him to see the token. It made me wish I had packed more change.

Now we're speeding along toward Kunming. It seems we've been lucky enough to secure a sleeping compartment to ourselves. This is terrific because it's allowed us to spread out a bit, and while my father naps on the bed next to me, I'm not going to catch up on a little reading as the Guilin countryside whizzes by.

1 comment:

  1. That little boy will tell that story until he is an old man. Well done, you!
    -Mom

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