The Summer Palace

Okay, as you all know, Sunday was Summer Palace. Let me first say: "not so great, actually." I am starting to get bored of seeing the same Chinese imperial architecture, the same lions, the same facades, the same roofs, the same pagodas. It's like somene 2000 years ago decided that the greatest artistic achievements possible had happened, and anyone that tried to deviate would have his hands chopped off or eyes poked out, etc. When you look at these buildings, the meticulousness and effort are blindingly obvious, and bound--creativity is locked in the black stone hearts of those lions, each the same, never to see the light of day. I wanted to smash them to see if it might emerge.

All of these palaces and temples are truly epic tales of the slow and methodical crushing of the human spirit in China.

So it was among lush and carefully-tended tress (our tourguide was quite the botanist, and told us quite a bit about each plant) that we looked forth onto the thatched roofs of the Summer Palace:
Curiously Modest

The primary lounding areas of the Supper Palace looked out onto a great lake, sculpted and excavated, in such a way that the Emperor could sit within a small pagoda with a beautiful lady and say "See that? It's mine," in an attempt to make their inevitable evening together seem a bit more like it came through persuasion rather than force:
"That? Also mine."

The whole thing sits on a hill, as you can see below. Yeah, more golden terraced roofs--I suppose the emperors wanted it to remind them of home in at least a few ways. I never figured out what the wire, along the outside of the building, was for:
His Majesty's Eighteenth Royal Lounge

Back on the top of the hill, we saw what appeared to be a guard or sentry tower of some sort--the pathway to the tower itself certainly seemed to be made for bowmen to fire, but upon getting to the tower we were just not sure (it was locked):
Not Very Defensible

Back at the bottom, the elaborate East Gate, covered in large bronze pots (we are still not sure of the mettalurgy behind them), crane statues, and large limestone deposit rocks hauled out of the river by slave labor, designed to immediately dispel any thoughts about just how heavenly-rich the emperor was:
Imperial Chinese Bling

But the single greatest testament to civic waste in this decadent symbol of tyrrany was the Emperess Dowager's 60th birthday present to herself: A giant marble (yes, all marble) barge, one which barely floated. To build it, she redirected all the funds raised by the state for a blue-water navy:
The Qing Chinese Naval Fleet

The Chinese were subsequently routed, only once (that's all it took), by the Japanese navy as it cleared a path for itself to resupply troops invading Manchuria:
Wait, We Can't Defend Manchuria With This?

When I look at this, I can think only of lives wasted in two ways: the lives of those men wasted futilely trying to resist the Japanese without a navy, but worse, the lives of those wasted in slave labor building such a terrible icon.

Anyway: with that, we were out of there, and off to a nearby park that also had to be seen. We were quite interested in the maze, but found it to be solvable in about five minutes, particularly given that we were significantly taller than the walls...:
Solved Faster Than a Kid's Placemat at Wendy's

This park contained vast ruins--clearly Western, which was curious. Our guide taught us that these ruins were originally built by skilled French architects and construction laborers on the Emperor's commission, only to be destroyed by incompetent French soldiers during the Opium Wars and Boxer Rebellion:
"Monsuier Le General, This Looks Like it Came from Paris!"
"They Must Have Stolen it! Smash it to Bits!"

Though large enough chunks remain. The French were not as efficient as the Chinese in the 50's and 60's--using point-blank artillery, they made sure that there was nothing but dust and pebbles left of the Buddhist monasteries that they demolished. But much of this destruction looks collateral, rather than purposeful. You'll notice people can touch about 85% of China's history--unlike the West, of course, where it is kept in a glass box:
People Are Probably Pocketing Some of This Stuff

The rest of the park was somewhat pretty, though there was something "off" about the whole thing. It felt so artificial it was uncomfortable. The Chinese had stuck hideous statues (that people really wanted pictures of themselves alongside...) in a few clearly incorrect places--enough so that I could not bring myself to take pictures of them. One of the statues was a Chinese kite, but it was two-dimensional... upon closer inspection, one saw that it was a rather poor computer print-out of a kite, glued to a board. Not impressive. But the temple on the island was nice:
Probably Not a Computer Print-Out

Finally, I leave you with a bit of well-sculpted landscape, because really, that is hard to come by around Beijing. Landscaping really is not China's specialty. But all in all, a strangely oppressive day of broken and bad art that is coming--for me--to symbolize that scares me most about Chinese culture.