Not So Forbidding City

Photos and essay by Ino Manalo

The original, pre-Revolution name for the Forbidden City had as much to do with the fact that the Palace was a mirror of the celestial realms as the fact that it was off limits. Yet, for many travel promoters, it was always worthwhile to capitalize on the former imperial residence’s image of inaccessibility. In the promotional clips featuring Matt Lauer that aired during the Olympics, one will note the repeated mention of words like “mysterious” and “secretive”. Evidently, audiences all over the world continue to be fascinated by the thought of how this awesome enclave was, for centuries, open only to the privileged few.

Today, of course, the Forbidden City may be scrutinized by anyone who can pay the admission price. About ten million visitors ramble through its halls each year generating revenues equivalent to several billion pesos annually. One must therefore be ready to swim through a sea of humanity for the chance to gaze upon the fabled environment of the former Emperors of China.

Those of a more solitary bent are advised to get to the Forbidden City early or very late to beat the crowds. Intrepid tour guides have even suggested using the north or back gate so that one’s path goes counter to the usual flow. Though this means being able to enter the compound more easily, one will still have to contend with the mob when viewing the main Halls.

By taking the back entrance, one is deprived of the first glimpse of the majestic Hall of Supreme Harmony dominating the immense main courtyard. There are few other vistas on this earth which can compare. Standing there, contemplating the vast expanses, one understands a little bit more just why the Chinese have always believed that their country was the center of the universe.

After this initial breath-taking view, it is time to steel one’s self to take the plunge into the pandemonium which attends any perusal of the Dragon Throne. There is probably no way to avoid this. But there are certainly ways to make the experience less uninviting.

Though I would enter through the south, I would not recommend taking the gate that overlooks Tiananmen Square. I suppose that this great portal with its huge portrait of Mao Ze Dong has become so iconic that everyone heads for it automatically. Instead, I would take the side road directly to the Meridian gate. This is where the ticket stations are located. One should remember to check which line is shorter since there are booths on both sides. It may also be helpful to use the nearby comfort rooms before beginning one’s tour. Though there are equivalent facilities inside the Palace, they may not always be easy to find. In China, if one cannot speak the language, it is a good idea to have flash cards on which essential concepts are printed in Chinese: Subway Station! Exit! Toilets!

While waiting to enter, one should take the time to examine the Gate itself. I would examine the two encircling wings which evoke the image of a great bird in flight. Interestingly, there is a replica of this Gate at the entrance to the Forbidden City of the Vietnamese Emperors in Hue.

The grandeur of Beijing’s imperial compound is such that after a while the mind shuts down. Then one feels only a sense of drudgery while marching across endless enclosures, eager to get to the very end. It is easier to comprehend this fantastic abode if one understands that even the way the buildings are positioned has a story to tell. The Forbidden City follows the Chinese art of feng shui which dictates that residences face south, the direction whence come all good things. Feng shui also stresses the importance of having a stream in front and a mountain in the back. As such, there is, in fact, a rivulet that flows through the first courtyard of the Palace. This forms an archer’s bow, possibly a shape which evokes the Emperor’s power to repel his enemies. In the same vein, there is a hill topped by a pavilion that guards the rear of the Forbidden City. This configuration of flowing water and solid mountain is reflected in many villages - even in the most remote corners of the great realm of China - linking the humblest hamlet with the beating heart of the Empire.

I would also take time to study the symbolism that suffuses the Palace. Consider, for example, that the primary doors have nine rows of knobs as nine was the imperial number. The most recent avatar of the Karate Kid made me aware for the first time that touching these knobs was supposed to bring good luck. This is probably a new practice, arising more from the dictates of tourism rather than tradition. One will see many visitors sheepishly rubbing the golden rows as they pass by. I suspect though, that if one were caught doing this when the Emperor still ruled China, one’s future would be anything but blessed!

In making my progress from south to north, I would not keep to the central axis like the rest of humanity. I would take the walkways on the very edge of the courtyard. Though one will still have to go back to the center to see the interiors of the grand ceremonial halls, taking the side corridors would provide some moments of peace. From this tranquil perspective, one will also have a better chance to perceive that the City has three huge public pavilions which correspond to three smaller ones that were for the personal life of the Emperor and his family.

It is in what used to be the family section of the Palace that one will find the most intriguing but often overlooked displays of the Forbidden City: the exhibits in the Hall of Clocks. In centuries past, when European merchants were still begging to be allowed to enter China’s doors, clocks were used to provoke the interest of the Celestial monarch. China, like most of the other civilizations of the world, conceived of time in terms of cycles. Dynasties rose and fell in keeping with the waxing and waning which was the pattern of life. Europe alone thought of time as one endless line which had to be measured in hours and minutes. As such, Europeans pioneered in the creation of chronometers to capture the passing of days.

Eventually the Chinese would learn from the West the art of clockmaking. The Imperial Collection includes wonderful pieces from both Europe and China, fashioned from gold and other precious materials. Everywhere one looks there are tiny trees glistening with pearls, there are minute pagodas with enameled roofs. There are even life-sized figures that move: a man writes on paper, a woman cools herself with a feathered fan.

In connection to these extraordinary timepieces, the writer Rayvee Sunico reminded me of a tale by Hans Christian Anderson: It is said that there was once an Emperor who discovered that the greatest treasure in his fabulous realm was a nightingale that sang so sweetly. Yet this gentle bird was later replaced by a mechanized avian replica which eventually broke down, bringing the dismayed monarch to the brink of death.

Looking at the amazing objects in the Hall of Clocks, one realizes that there was some truth to Anderson’s story. The Chinese were indeed capable of creating automatons. The question arises: was there also an Emperor who realized that the vast riches of his empire paled before a nightingale’s serenade?

In fact, there was one lord of the Forbidden City who declared that he would give up the luxurious trappings of the Dragon Throne for a life of quiet contemplation. He built a retreat that is now named the Qianlong Garden after his dynastic title. This Garden is today one of the most tranquil areas of the Palace. It is here that I like to end my tour.

Tall mounds of strangely shaped rocks screen the enclosure from passersby. There is even a meandering stream dedicated to literary jousts. Contestants were supposed to toss in a cup and, before this floated out of sight, spontaneously compose a poem. A few years ago, the World Monuments Fund sponsored the restoration of a hall in the Qianlong Garden. Once more, the exquisite paintings that decorated the walls were made to shine.

Unfortunately, the Qianlong Emperor’s beautiful hall is not open to the public at the present. In a way, there is an advantage to this lack of general public access. For delicate murals would not stand a chance if subjected to the perusal of hordes of visitors. Moreover, it seems appropriate that one cannot be admitted to all areas of the Imperial Compound. As it had always been, so shall it be: there are still some things in the Palace that remain beyond our reach.