“The longest graveyard in the world”
“The Emperor’s Great Wall, the longest graveyard in the world” – White Jade Tiger
There are some things that neither photographs nor words can do any level of justice to. Petra was one of those, the Great Wall is another. But to say nothing at all is unthinkable, so I’ll try my best to capture mist and history with words.
How do you describe the sensation of literally walking on history? Of knowing that you’re treading where once arrows flew, blood flowed, and where men died and their bodies were left to become part of the foundations of the Wall itself. Binding the stones together with blood, sweat and tears- miles upon miles of it. Despite the fact that the Wall never truly served its purpose as an ‘impenetrable line of defense’ (As Ghangis Khan supposedly said: “The strength of a wall is measured only by the courage of the men who defend it”) people fought and died here none-the-less. The stones you walk on are literally indented from hundreds of thousands of footfalls wearing away at the steps over the years.
Even through modern day crowds and souvenir stalls with their magnets and cheap jade dragons (no Sis I did not buy you one, you’re worth better) – the wall itself has a voice. Not necessarily a voice you can hear, but a voice none-the-less. A voice that speaks of pride and honor won and lost. Lost mostly, because the Wall is falling into ruin in the places where it hasn’t been restored and opened to the public, sustained by the tourist trade. In most places – places that travelers never really see – nothing remains of it but dust and the rammed packed earth of the core, the stones long since pillaged by locals for other projects. Such is the way of things.
You can’t help but wonder as you wend your way through the crowds of passengers and parents with their wide-eyed children in tow, what it would be like at night, when the crowds are gone and there’s no one on the battlements but the ghosts and the whispered conversations of the wind against the stones. They talk, places like this. Even this time of year when everything is muffled for me, they still talk. I’d like to come back and listen, sometime when it’s not October.
When we left the wall behind us and climbed – somewhat wearily – back into the bus that had brought us there two hours earlier, we headed towards something else that would leave almost as much of an impression.
Dule Temple
Had I remembered that the tour today would also take us to Dule Temple, the oldest and largest wooden temple still standing in China; I would have thought to bring an offering to add to the heap of fresh flowers and fruit at the base of the temple. Out of respect if nothing else. Just as whenever I go to a cathedral I try to light a candle. It occurred to me too late that I could have simply grabbed the fruit from my lunch as I never did end up eating it, but by the time I remembered that it was too late. As it was, all I could do was stand there, breathing in the scent of the incense mixed with the freshness of the autumn breeze from outside, and try to take in the enormity of that towering Buddha, hand-carved and hand painted so many years ago – looking down at us.
No matter what your faith, no matter what you believe, under that gaze your soul felt cleansed.
I’ve been lucky enough to see many beautiful an awe-inspiring things in my life. This was very close to the top of the list.
I’m sad to say there were people who didn’t get it. Didn’t understand it. People who were taking flash photographs despite the multiple warnings not to do so (though I admit I had my camera raised, until a hand on my wrist from one of my team-mates brought me to my senses and made me remember, no no you don’t ever do that here). Not only are such actions highly disrespectful, but many people don’t understand the effects consistent exposure to flash photograph has on monuments. Particularly wooden, particularly painted. The light will eventually eat away at the paint and cause irrevocable damage. There’s a reason why the statue is situated safely indoors. But some people just don’t care about that, as long as they get the photograph for their scrapbook. I encountered the same thing, and reacted with the same distaste, during my visit to the Valley of the Kings last season.
But all of that is irrelevant I suppose.
Upon leaving the temple proper, you turn onto the grounds and are nearly blinded by what looks like a tree on fire, until you realize that what looks like flames are in fact prayer flags. Red prayer flags. Hundreds of them, fluttering in the branches and on the surrounding railings like so many living things. So many people casting their hopes and wishes and pleas into the universe…
In closing? Sometimes you have one day that makes all the heart-ache and confusion, and inevitable loneliness that comes with a contract worth it. Today? Today was one of those days…