Tough Times in Chengde

After booking my train ticket to Mongolia, I had a few days to kill in Beijing, but the weather was a little rainy, so I made a split second decision to head to the bus station and try my luck a few hours to the Northeast, in a town called Chengde. Only about four hours away by bus, my journey began with some helpful workers in the bus station, as no one there seemed to speak a word of English. I soon boarded a bus and began heading through the endless sprawl of Beijing. Cars, bicycles, scooters, motorcycles and pedestrians, all with no regard for traffic rules made the journey quite interesting, weaving in and out of lanes, sidewalks and everything in between. The scooters often ride on the wrong side of the road and just go wherever they like, missing other cars by inches. In this chaos, though, everything just barely seems to work out, but I'm surprised there are not more accidents. We passed through suburbs, trees and eventually made it out of the metropolis, stopping off at a little rest stop before getting into rainy Chengde just as it was getting dark. A taxi driver motioned me as I got off the bus, and not having any other options than standing in the rain and looking helpless, I got in. Now came the hard part. I managed to convey the idea of "cheap" and "hotel" to him by pointing to parts of my Mandarin phrasebook, and he started down the road. The road was in horrible condition, with car sized potholes and rocks, so we weaved our way in and out around the traffic and hazards, alongside the river that cuts through town. We stopped at one place that I eventually figured out was a hotel, though he came back and gave me a gesture indicating there was nothing available there. This game of charades continued for a few miles, circling around the town and finding nothing. In addition to some of the hotels being full of tourists from Beijing, many of the cheap hotels do not accept foreigners (somewhat common in China), so our selection was quite limited. My guidebook had noted that cheap accommodation may be hard to find, but I didn't imagine it would be this bad.

Eventually, he came back from one hotel with a smile on his face, motioning me to come inside. Luckily the attendant spoke English, and then the saga began. She explained that most of the hotels were booked, and that there were no really cheap hotels in town, since this is sort of a resort town for Beijing residents to escape the summer heat. The only rooms they have were about $70, also requiring a $25 deposit. Coming unprepared, I didn't even have that much money with me, and credit cards are not really an option in many places. The few banks/ATMs in the town were also closed for the day, so I didn't have many options left. I contemplated going back to Beijing immediately, but the trains were already full, and the last bus had already left for the evening. Running low on options, I gathered together my remaining cash, changed a US $20 bill with the taxi driver and managed just enough to pay for a room and my taxi, regretting my decision to come up here without doing a bit more research. As I expected, the room was nicer than I needed, furnished in a nice Chinese style and the requisite rock hard bed. Good for your back, but not so good when you don't fit and have to lie sideways, walking up with sore hips. Fortunately breakfast was included at my hotel, so I enjoyed some eggs and Chinese versions of potato salad the next morning before putting the previous night behind me and trying to make the best of my two day trip.

Chengde was historically the mountain retreat of emperors and has a huge portion of the city enclosed within city walls, blocked off as a park and hunting retreat, all beginning around the early 1700s when the reigning emperor fell in love with the place. The green park is filled with trees, hills, a few lakes and some peaceful gardens for the emperor and his lady friends. After a quick stop at the ATM, I entered the majestic gates to the park, coming upon sublime pagodas, deer roaming the grounds and a good number of Chinese tourists taking it all in. Knowing that I didn't have a lot of time in this pricey town, I opted for the shuttle bus through the park, whisking a group of 12 of us up the steep hills for views of the significant spots and overlooks of the town below. Again facing the language barrier, the guide pointed me towards two of the other guests, indicating that I was to follow them throughout the trip, as we stopped in certain places and re-boarded in others. The first few sights offered nice views of the city below, built around the river and surrounded by green mountains on three sides, and it was also one of my first views of blue sky since I had arrived in China. Soon we reached the highest point in the park, a ridge of the hills upon which runs a miniature version of the Great Wall. Even better are the views from the wall of the other attractions of Chengde - the temples. The town has eight major Buddhist temples, some of which are replicas of other temples from around the country, including a massive reconstruction of Potala Palace in Tibet. The view of these temples lining the green mountainside below was quite impressive, and I was in awe when the honking of my tour van reminded me that it was time to get back to my group. I took one last glance of the box-like temple and ran back down the mini-wall to the tour. We next stopped at a small house that was the home of some of the emperor's lovers, particularly one who was quite overtly critical of the ruling party in Beijing, so she was typically kept up here, away from the trouble that she could cause in the capital. (Fortunately, one of the tourists spoke some English and was able to explain this to me.) We also saw a small demonstration of some typical music of the time featuring box violins, drums, chimes and flute.

Moving back down the hills, the tour came to an end, and I quickly explored the rest of the vast park, checking out some typical lily pad/water garden action and a pseudo-Mongolian campsite with little huts (gers) set up to resemble the homes of Mongols in the countryside. Exiting the park, I hitched a taxi to Puning Temple, the only active temple in the area, meaning that monks still live here. Walking under a string of blue, red and yellow prayer flags fluttering in the wind, I was greeted by a monk dressed in the traditional red robe and yellow sash, making his way casually through the compound. All along the compound are prayer wheels, gold cylinders etched with ancient writing that are attached vertically to poles and set in a line of anywhere from four to fifty. As you pass by, you are instructed to spin these wheels clockwise, symbolizing reading them as you make your way up to the highest temple of the sight. Mostly square temples filled this site, made in the Tibetan style, featuring block windows and white walls highlighted with red paint. Reaching the back of the temple, I scaled a steep set of concrete stairs, ducked under a short entranceway and emerged upon the main square fronting the most impressive of the temples. In front of me were monks playing traditional horns, lighting and selling candles to be offered to the gods, and just looking stoic, as they have a tendency to do. I passed by the string of prayer wheels and into the temple for the main attraction of Puning - a 22 meter high statue of Buddha enclosed within the pagoda, made entirely of wood. It's the largest of its kind in the world, towering over the people below, with 42 arms, each palm with an eye upon it. The towering Buddha was an incredible sight, but I couldn't stay long, as there was still more to see before the day was through. Behind the temple a chain was filled with padlocks, another symbolic gesture to be placed in the name of a loved one, meaning the bond of love will not be broken.


Another short taxi ride took me to the impressive Putuozongcheng Temple, a series of white block temples that are a replica of the temples of Potala Palace in Lhasa, Tibet. Hopefully I'll have a chance to see the real version in Tibet, but this site was very impressive in its own right. I quickly handed over my ticket to the robed monk and passed inside, anxious to see the inside. Coming upon the main temple, I realized this was no small scale replica, and the stairs weren't quite easy. The massive, six or seven story complex still houses many prayer rooms, Buddhist images and a few vendors, selling incense, figurines and even water bottles. Once at the level of the main temple, I stood looking straight up, seeing an endless stream of box windows to the left and right of the huge red and white structure. Inside, I made my way through small hallways and up staircase after staircase, entering into an inside courtyard three levels high, surrounded by a square building of uniform railings and windows, all topped with more prayer flags. From above, I could see all of the gold tiles of the roof, adding a bit of traditional Chinese flair to this Tibetan style. Below, the rest of the complex stood before me, dwarfed by the aerial view from the highest point of the grounds. Despite being tourist attractions, the tranquility and peace of these places is certainly apparent, offering sweeping views and little bits of solitude, perfect for meditation, contemplation and maybe even reaching Nirvana. Moving back to the needs of my physical being, I stopped for some $2 fried rice at a stand just outside the temple, then attempted to get back to my bags and the bus station. Without even knowing the name of my hotel, I was forced to basically point at each street to direct my taxi driver - luckily this was a fairly easy part of town to navigate. Soon, I grabbed my bags and headed back to the bus station.

Within 30 minutes, I was back on a bus, heading to Beijing, though something was a little strange. I was the only passenger on the massive tour bus, so I felt a bit bad, knowing this wasn't the most efficient use of mass-transit vehicles. Luckily, we cruised the main road alongside the river for close to an hour before picking up more passengers and headed on our way, featuring some repetitive dance music that the driver and his two buddies seemed to love. We stopped halfway through for gas and a car wash...well, a bus wash. Soon after, we came upon a gruesome scene with people yelling and running all around. I tried to figure out what was causing the commotion, and we soon saw - a bicycle lay crushed in the middle of the road, with its rider motionless on the ground next to it. Cars were stopped, and people were scurrying around, but I really couldn't tell the extent of the injury. The person certainly wasn't moving at all, but I did not see any blood, so hopefully that's a good sign. I had been amazed before that I hadn't seen an accident, but I guess the time had come. A bit sobered up by the scene, our driver took it relatively easy for the remaining hour, and I got back to Beijing safely, though left in the middle of nowhere. Luckily I chose the right direction and after 20 minutes of walking past anonymous streets was saved by a tiny sign indicating a subway, just as I was about to turn back and try the other direction.

(Tibetan script on one of the many prayer wheels at the base of Puning Temple.)

(A line of prayer wheels, just before ascending the steep steps in the background.)

(Mini Potala Palace from the road.)

(Finally at the top, along with the prayer flags.)

(Ah, so many colors.)

(I initially made fun of this guy, but he turned out to be the only one in my group that spoke English and translated a little bit for me. So thanks Pinkie, you're allright.)

(Putuozongcheng Temple from the walls of the city park. Once again, this is not Tibet. You should really read the story instead of just looking at the pictures.)

(This is also not the Great Wall. This place is tricky.)

(And, yes, this is an archway inside a garden. Or at least you think it is...)