Temple of Heaven

Temple of Heaven





After bailing on Forbidden City, Felicity and I jump the sparklingly new, brashly efficient, spotlessly clean, fast-fast-fast Beijing subway and next thing you know we are walking across an overpass on our way to the Temple of Heaven.




Like Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven grounds are vast. Unlike Forbidden City they are more garden-like, peaceful and bucolic, dare I say heavenly.



One of the things I, as a moderately avid birder, miss is songbirds. There were few to be seen climbing Silver Mountain and almost none, other than magpies, in urban Beijing. Here were a few birds of which the most interesting and common was the azure-winged magpie.


So Felicity and I strolled blissfully, snapping a few pictures and contemplating heaven while approaching the temple.


As we made our way toward the temple named The Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests (the largest of several such prayer halls) we passed people eagerly playing games, many with spectators crowded around intent on every move. I did not recognize any of the games.




Triple gabled and nearly 40 metres high, the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests draws one's eye pleasingly heavenward - the place beneficent rains descend from. Or at least that is one way to connect the dots.





Surrounding the temple are gardens with richly colored flowers. And high walls. Unsurprisingly, if named appropriately, Forbidden City was also enclosed by high walls. High walls deter the peasantry, imperial contenders and invaders. One can imagine during dynastic times the poverty and squalor outside the walls and the imposed peace within.



Leaving the Temple of Heaven we pass local musicians most skillfully playing wonderful, highly complex music. I quietly watched in fascination for quite some time.




Near sundown we depart the park to made our way back into the urban landscape. Once beyond the walls we saw, amongst many new automobiles, remnants of some fast disappearing ways.

Forbidden City

Forbidden City

There be dragons and monsters there. Everywhere. This dragon and three others like him emerge from a cornice.



One of the few allowances to modern Chinese history is this huge portrait of Chairman Mao right over the main, central entrance to the Forbidden City.


We are going in!





Entrance to the Forbidden City is a dream for Chinese everywhere so, with 1.4 billion aspirants, things get a little busy. Here a charming Chinese woman is excited for her adventure.





Security is on full display and sightings of the army are frequent. Forbidden City is all part of one huge - incredibly huge - governmental centre which includes, only for one example, Tienanmen Square.






Once inside one is beset with over-spilling imperial splendor and eye-numbing opulence. After a while it becomes sensory overload. But not quite as bad as parts of the Vatican.




Most buildings seem to have had special purposes so that one might have a throne room in one building for catching early evening land breezes and another one for the late morning song bird - I exaggerate of course but it takes a lot of excuses to build 9,999 rooms, the number claimed for the Forbidden City.




And the exteriors of these monumental buildings are as ornate as the interiors. All in good taste they maintain great order and coherence through repeating themes. Often in stacked repetitions.





In this huge expanses of laid brick - giant plazas - walkways, bridges, lagoons and ponds break what would otherwise be a brilliant monotony. Many statues line the pathways. Here are the imperial tortoise and crane.



Lions and dragons have their run of the place!




Errant monks as well. This guy was a favorite with his joyful bouncing step.








We soldier on for well over a mile. Clearly the overwhelming overall purpose of the Forbidden City was to indulge the emperors court while loudly displaying wealth and power. Not quite Xanadu, still one can appreciate Coleridge in these circumstances with the stately pleasure domes and all.




One area of the Forbidden City one got a very good sense about its purpose and design - this was the sequestered area for the Emperor's Harem. Dragons guarded the central area, no doubt warning would-be interlopers that they would suffer a grisly end if they messed with the emperor's playthings.




It had an almost elegant suburbanity about it. One could well understand this: for a young woman to get the imperial nod was a family fortune in the making. The girls lived in overwhelming luxury, at least while in favor.





Dazed by the numbers, Felicity and I picked our way back through the city and out the main entrance, putting Chairman Mao and the Forbidden City behind us.

Silver Pagoda Mountain

Silver Pagoda Mountain?

Alright, I do not have any idea what the name of the mountain is. I think the names for the pagodas are the 'silver pagodas' because Felicity describes them as les pagodes argent in her french language blog. Be that as it may, I wandered around Beijing for a few days before Felicity grabbed me and took me on a hike, climb, whatever, into the mountains north of Beijing.






We went with a hiking group that included several of Felicity's fellow students then working in Beijing. We disembarked our bus in a small village and commenced our hike through dry, occasionally terraced agricultural and orcharded lands. Most common were groves of Manchurian Walnut. Here I have a small, green inedible peach - I think?




From commencement pinnacles were visible through the morning mist. Always the eagle eye, Felicity espies the peak we are to summit.







The land has been inhabited and intensively used for generations, probably millennia and so it was common to see small shrines and temples along the way. This was only one of many.



I took a fancy to this stone mill.






It was hot and dry this day, in fact nearly every day if the locals are to be believed, and I had a touch of fatigue what with travel, age, jet-lag. So Felicity bounded in front and I lagged behind.






For the steepest stretches there were often carved granite stairways and frequent viewpoints for rest and overseeing the magnificent vistas below, far below! To the side are three NYU law classmates hamming it up, stealing an unlikely kiss!




Cascading down the granite faces were streams and at the base, pools. All of them were totally artifact so while attractive, quite unnatural. Felicity enjoys one such pool.



Then, thank gawd, we got to the summit and take a celebratory photo beside a sign that might say "no photos please".




After a few congratulatory moments we started the descent. Going down is the right way to go. Rather than grunting and sweating facing the ground immediately in front of you, you stand tall, taking in the splendid vistas as you breeze your way down the mountain side.






Some views were breathtakingly beautiful. It seems you can see forever.



Then form emerges from out of the mist below. We started to see the shape of a large open area plaza and a series of structures.




And then we are in the midst of the wonderful Silver Pagodas. Precious burial sites from dynasties past.





It was precious end to a marvelous day.

Hard Shaking the Family Tree!

Hard Shaking on the Family Tree!

My last few days in London did not commence with any theme. Verity and I both wanted to see the world's favorite museum of natural history. So one London rainy day Verity and I headed out.

After gaining entry, Verity welcomed me into this sacred (forgive the blasphemy) cathedral of natural history!

Almost instantly I found this statue of the most famous of Natural History's gods, Charles Darwin. In my philosopical tradition this photo may be my most coherent representation! I love this picture! Thank you Verity!

With that, a theme for the day arose. Both Verity and I regretted we would miss our annual family reunion. Although it was never formally announced, this day became a family reunion of vastly wider scope and thus it took on a delightful flavor.



These photos, left and right, help explain where I am going with this. While some of my more traditional associates might find it challenging, for the others, welcome to my extended family.

The members of the vastly extended family are present below. You may recognize our five branches of the family tree, the five major representatives apes, our most notable family members. Unfortunately these photos were taken with shaky hand into glass enclosed displays.





As we to pass on to our human branch of the tree I see a womanly figure, perhaps Eve in the family's evolution.

Of course this is all endlessly interesting and we humans are the most interesting of the lot. Here one of my fellows lines up with elephants, rhinos and the eye of a blue whale.

Verity could not resist taking this photo of a tourist family brought low under the blue whale.

Somewhat later, as we got to the top of the museum Verity took one of those silly photos where you set the camera timer, run like hell, assume a silly pose and hope it turns out. This one seems satisfactory for the genre.


Finally I took this picture of Verity against the backdrop of the spectacular architecture, the complex of arches and stairways in this wonderful building.





Then it was packing the bags, checking out and flying on to Dubai en route to Beijing on Emirates Air in an AirBus 380 - wow, what an gigantic aircraft!

Sunday in the Park, Hyde Park


It is said that we are driven by fear, desire and laziness. Sunday and parks are made for the later. Here a rather ample Londoner occupies a bench, somewhat completely.




Children are not lazy about parks. They race about trying this and that in play. It was only later when editing that I noticed this child's mother has a rather beguiling gam.



Moments later, this young woman reads in the sun.





Back to the children, we have a budding tennis star, instructed in first rallies by a doting grandparent





And then one of my favorite shots - notice the distant gaze, almost philosophical, on the face of this poodle.




Now our walk in the park started on Verity's advice that there was to be a nudist bicycle event in the park. Hmm. Good for a laugh! Because I had seen such events in Victoria and Montreal, we thought it right to see one in London. It did not happen.



So Verity and I went to the pub, the Sheffield Arms or something like that, famous as the drinking hole of Arthur Conan Doyle and, less certainly, Jack the Ripper. Verity, her wonderful roommate, Emilie, and I went to another pub as well, one where I had this absolutely delicious sausage thingy.