Prince Gong's Palace

Some days you just can't work--I mean, if there's no one forcing you to. People who have bosses envy those who are their own boss, but strange to say, I have been in both types of situations and I opine that being your own boss is harder. It's actually easier to work when there's someone to look over your shoulder or otherwise hold you accountable. But never mind about that. Yesterday I couldn't work and mostly lay about the house all day, although I managed to trudge out to a class. Today I still felt pretty unmotivated, and so I decided to have an adventure. After all, it is Saturday. I haven't taken a weekend off in some time, ever since I started having my classical Chinese lessons on Sunday afternoons. But this time I am pretty much all prepared, so I thought I might as well go see something.

The destination I selected is primly known as Prince Gong's residence. Well, it was Prince Gong's residence, but before it was his it belonged to the infamous eunuch and "favorite" of the Qianlong Emperor, He Shen. History does not record the precise nature of their relationship, but for a time at least the man was effectively running the empire with Qianlong's smiling blessing. And he collected bribes on every possible occasion.

Consequently, he has a very nice residence, though how much of the present structure was commissioned by him, how much by Prince Gong (about whom I know nothing) and how much was done by modern restorers, I am not really sure.

The place is now a pleasant little garden, open to the public. Opera is also performed there in the evenings, though I didn't go to that. I went as early in the morning as I could manage, arriving at about 11 AM. Well, I haven't been much of an early riser lately, since I have been ill with a terrible case of homesickness. It was an overcast day, not hot but rather stale, white haze hanging in the air. This kind of day is not good for pictures, but I took some.





These show something of how green and pretty the garden was, despite the white weather.

There were a lot of tourists, and a lot of tour groups. These were especially evident around the large pond. All the same, I liked the pond because it had a brazen flock of white ducks. (Do ducks come in flocks? Perhaps I should say "a quackery of ducks.") While I was photographing them, I heard a fellow American (a teenage girl on some kind of study abroad trip no doubt) inquire, "Is Peking duck made from some special type of duck, or do they just use... any old duck?" I confess that I wondered the same thing. Were these proud and handsome white ducks being fattened for the slaughter? The tour guide assured her that Peking duck came from a special kind of duck, but I wasn't so sure. This is China. You never know.

The garden was built with a lot of twisting paths, designed to create the illusion of being a much larger space than it actually was. Paths led everywhere, including up along the level of roof-tops, in and around swiss-cheese like eroded stones, twisting through courtyards. One could easily imagine the intrigues, the secrets, the sneakery that could potentially have gone on there. Why, for as much as thirty seconds I managed to find myself out of sight of all other people--until the illusion was inevitably broken for both me and the other tourist I came just around the bend. Still, sarcasm aside, it was a neat effect.

On one rooftop-level path, I saw a tree and heard someone say in great excitement, "Mulberries!" It's mulberry season. Mulberries are not much eaten in the U.S., at least the parts I've been to, but I can't say why because they are delicious. They look like blackberries, but the texture is like if you managed mysteriously to de-seed a blackberry without breaking any of the grains. The taste is mild, much less acidic than any of the berries I can think of. Chinese people seem to like them a lot, although I am a bit wary because they can't be peeled. The people near me were disappointed that all the ripe mulberries within reach had been plucked and eaten by others. After they moved on, I was disappointed too. By walking all around the tree several times and peering up most earnestly, I managed to find one that was nearly ripe!

One of the special features of the garden was a grotto of strange stones with a trickling waterfall coming down from it into a pool. Inside the grotto, once clearly and pleasantly visible through a gap in the rocks, is the character for good fortune, carved in the stone. Unfortunately, the aesthetic effect of this is one thing that has had to be sacrificed when the garden came into the possession of the masses. There is now a thick plate of clear plastic protecting the character, and awful yellow zigzag lights in the little tunnel by which one may approach it. It was kind of charming, though, to see the visitors swiping the flats of both hands downward over the character, presumably to rub off a bit of the good luck. Also, bars between the pool and the tunnel. (I couldn't take a straight-on shot because the tour groups were nearly continuous.) Nearby, a stand exclusively devoted to paraphernalia reproducing the engraved form on the character--plaques, tie-pins, whatever.

Despite the crowds, it was quite a pretty and pleasant place. On a weekday, early in the morning, I imagine it is quite peaceful. Here are some more pictures.