Fuddland

The capital of Liaoning, north-east China.

This category is a subcategory of Travelling in China.

The main event of the day was a visit to the Imperial Palace of the Qing Dynasty. The following is taken from the information sign on display at the main entrance:

The Imperial Palace in Shěnyāng was the founding base of the Qing Dynasty. In 1616, Nu’erhachi, the chieftain of a Nuzhen tribe in Jianzhou in the Ming Dynasty, unified all Nuzhen tribes, declared himself a Khan after establishing a kingdom in Hetu’ala in the territory of today’s Xinbin in Liaoning Province, and established the Late Jin local regime. In 1621, the regime advanced into the Liaoshen region. In 1625, it moved its capital city from Liaoyang to Shěnyāng, and began to construct the Imperial Palace. After Huangtaiji inherited the throne of Khan in 1626, he continued the construction of the Palace. In 1636, he formally ascended the throne in this Palace, and changed the named of the kingdom into Da Qing [the Great Qing]. After the Qing regime moved its capital to Běijīng in 1644, it preserved and continued to expand the Imperial Palace in Shěnyāng. During 1671–1829, the Qing emperors who visited the northeastern region all stayed in the Palace, where they held celebrations and sacrificial ceremonies.

The Imperial Palace of the Qing Dynasty in Shěnyāng used to be a forbidden area. It was opened to the public as a museum in 1926, and was included in the first batch of key national cultural relic protection units in 1961. In 2004 it was inscribed on the World Heritage List.

To see the complete set, view all photos tagged with “Imperial Palace Qing Dynasty” in my Flickr photostream.

After grabbing a quick snack of bāozi [steamed dumplings], our first stop was the enormous statue of Máo Zédōng (毛泽东), situated in the centre of a huge roundabout since 1969. With his arm raised in gentle salute, he almost looks as though he’s directing the traffic, aided by his band of peasants below. The Little Red Books they once weilded have been chipped off over the years, but the overall effect of the monument is still an impressive one.

I used up one of my valuable days off this week to take a day-trip to Shěnyāng, the capital of the Liaoning Province. Catching an early-morning train meant I was able to gawk at the many dozens of people practising their taì jí as I walked through the park on my way to the station. It’s quite mesmerising to see so many people all moving slowly in unison.

Although it’s only forty or so miles from Běnxī, the train ride to Shěnyāng takes an hour and a half, during which time the staff patrol the carriages selling all manner of food, drink and chunky magnetic bracelets, but the most interesting part of the journey was getting on the train in the first place. You’re lulled into a false sense of order as everyone forms nice calm queues along the platform, but then the train pulls up and mayhem ensues: there’s a rush to the nearest door, followed by several minutes of tense moshing as the passengers disembark, then it’s elbows everywhere as everyone pushes everyone else in the clammer to get on board. After a few moments of allowing the elderly couple ahead the opportunity to get on board, a near-miss with the sharp end of an umbrella meant I was soon able to surpress my Englishness for long enough to secure a seat.

I was hoping that as we left behind my home city, I’d be able to see some more of the countryside, but alas everything was shrouded in either smog or mist [probably some combination of the two], so I took to studying a bit of Mandarin instead, until we eventually pulled in to Shěnyāng’s South station.

My friend, colleague and fellow day-tripper Alan successfully bartered for an English-language map from a chap just outside the station, whilst I tried to figure out why there was a quarter-scale tank perched atop a column.