The Forbidden City: Objects from the Gilded Cage

Recently, I visited the ‘Imperial Chinese Robes’ exhibition at the V&A in London and among the beautifully crafted hats, shoes, children's clothes and patterned fabrics that were on display there, I came across an elaborate and exquisitely fashioned robe which I recalled seeing at the Palace Museum in Beijing several years earlier.

The robe - informal in its function, had belonged to the Empress Dowager Cixi and was worn when she was not fulfilling official duties (complex rules and conventions specifying which clothes should be worn on different court occasions were implicitly followed). Its form ­- illuminated in satin yellow, shimmered like evening sunlight, while beautifully embroidered butterfly’s and cranes revelled amongst the elaborate fauna of the garments folds.

Empress' informal robe, Guangxu reign period (1875-1908) 

The Palace Museum, Beijing.

Once the exclusive dominion of the Empress Dowager the intense yellow of this outfit has undergone a democratic transformation becoming the prevailing colour of choice amongst the Beijing tourist, this heritage could be witnessed in the brightly coloured caps, bags, umbrellas and guidebooks that peppered the courtyards of the Forbidden City. On this particular day these scattered patterns had become more intense hue’s as tourists huddled together in groups trying to escape the biting winds that blew around these vast open spaces.

The courtyards, also known as the “Sea of Flagstones” envelop the three great halls that served the Ming and Qing Dynasties as imperial residences and made up the ceremonial heart of the Forbidden City, but with the concessions China has made to modernity and the rush to embrace the western ideal of tourism the mystique has somewhat faded (this cultural erosion was not helped by the opening of a Starbucks coffee shop here in 2000, although due to intense pressure from the Chinese media the shop was closed in 2007).

 The old starbucks in The Forbidden City

Inside the city one encounters a myriad of passageways, temples, pagodas, gardens and most noticeably, an endless parade of large wooden doors. This surreal spectacle, resembling a vignette from ‘Alice in Wonderland’ was enhanced by the occasional sighting of smartly dressed museum staff disappearing and reappearing through these portals, all of which only helped to elevate the legend of "Palace of 9,999 and a half rooms" (because only the palace of heaven could have a perfect 10,000).

At the heart of the Palace Museum - treasures of delicately carved bowls, gracefully shaped vases and other decorative ornaments made from contrasting shades of jade; elaborately hand-painted porcelain that must have been the envy of any visitor from cosmopolitan Europe and suits of beautifully made armour could all be observed - each object a testament to a lost culture in which time had stood still and where complex rules and procedures were enacted by courtiers with the sole purpose of keeping up the artifice of a dynasty with power.

 Entrance to The Forbidden City and Empress Cixi

Two objects exemplified life in this gilded cage. The first; a finely detailed bamboo screen from which it was said, the Dowager Empress Cixi had discreetly received visitors as foreign dignitaries and Chinese of lower cast were not allowed to lay eyes on such a divine personage.

The second object was a black, heavy-framed bicycle, given to the Last Emperor Pu Yi, by his British tutor, Reginald Johnston. At the beginning of the 20th Century the Emperor still lived within the 25-foot fortified violet wall of the Great Within, he was the only male there – except for the 1500 eunuchs of the Manchu court and was rarely allowed to venture beyond the Forbidden City's walls, so to have received this offering must have seen to the Emperor as the essence of western modernity and an escape into another world.

Emperor Pu Yi

Travel Journal - Tibet and the Fairy Monastery

Travelling west from Lanzhou, along  the course of the Great Yellow river’s drifting breadth, all thoughts of the relentlessness of the urban metropolis which we had just escaped from soon dissolved and we were left to enjoy the tranquil mountain meadows which were soon assimilated into lush, alpine forest. By now the rivers snaking presence was far below us as we passed through snow-fissured mountain terrain which rose majestically from the valley floor. We were ascending to an altitude of 3500 feet and the noticeable changes in the atmosphere coupled with the adjustments in the surrounding geology and genealogy of the local people made it apparent  that we had crossed into the Xizang region or what is more commonly known outside China as Tibet.

The very existence of Tibet is as much a philosophical idea as a geographical place and soon becomes intertwined in the mind with the myths and legends of the region.

For several hours we carried on along a poor road that zig-zagged upwards through tiny hamlets of mud-walled buildings standing on uneven ground until we finally arrived at Langmusi - a small village straddling the border of the Gansu and Sichuan provinces, high on the Tibetan plateau were our jeep was immediately surrounded by rosy-cheeked locals dressed in brightly decorated outfits many with braided hair woven with coloured thread.

A translation of Langmusi into English means ‘fairy monastery’ and it is named after an ancient legend that tells of a fairy, who was turned into stone on a nearby mountain.

On our approach to the monastery I saw what I first thought to be the discarded debris, however, it turned out to be a kaleidoscope of ‘prayer wind horses’ – tiny bits of coloured paper thrown into the wind by Tibetan Buddhists on the hope that their prayers will go to the heavens and be answered.

As we stood outside the deserted prayer hall a monk appeared and started to bang a large gong. Very slowly and in solemn procession, other monks started to appear - they were being called to prayer and started to assemble outside the front steps, when the last gong sounded they all rushed into the hall and sat down in silence. The hall was dimly lit and very cold and in the half-light the silence was disturbed by the head principle berating the other monks for not working hard enough which we were assured was all part of their religious practice.

We walked back down what could only be described as typical village street in this region - solid yet uninspiring buildings designed as a defence against the freezing winter winds flanked a dirt road and the cliche of tumbleweed blowing down the thoroughfare would not have been an out of place depiction.
We entered the only shop on the street where the aromatic smell of yak butter candles filled the air. I walked up to the dusty counter and examined the 6 items that were on display. As the rather excited woman who owned the shop spoke no English our guide had to negotiate my purchase of a traditional coral and silver ring.
Since the Tibetan custom is to wear earrings that would be considered too large and heavy by western standards we went next door to a workshop, where the woman’s husband was working a lathe. He picked up from a large collection of tools and implements a small file and started to shape the ear wire on a pair of earrings I had just bought - a final memento of this leg of the journey. 

Travel Journals - An Introduction

Having been fortunate enough to travel extensively in both a personal and professional capacity, my journals are now testimony to a journey fulfilled.

Originally intended as record of my experiences and observations for my young nephew who wanted to join me on my travels, these journals now serve as a wonderful narrative of times passed and memories gained.