Getting imperious in Shenyang

Game of thrones in Shenyang

Those of you who have been following the posts on our brief trip to Shenyang 沈阳 last week might remember that on Tomb Sweeping Day 清明节 (aka last Thursday) we had planned on visiting the one historic sight the city is most noted for, the Shenyang Imperial Palace 沈阳故宫. It turned out, however, that quite a few Chinese had the same idea, and in the end my wife and I decided seeing the historic site wasn't worth putting up with the crowds that had gathered there. 

Cue last Saturday. Our original itinerary called for us to catch a train at the somewhat ungodly time of 0818 hours for a five-hour ride back to Beijing 北京 (it was the only time Shu-E could book due to the holiday rush). However, on Friday evening, my wife noted that seats on some other trains had become available (presumably due to cancelations and changed plans), and after some discussion, we switched our reservation and shelled out for a pair of business class seats on a high-speed train that would depart at 1234 hours (and only take two hours and forty-five minutes to get to Beijing Chaoyang railway station 北京朝阳站). And now that we had some time to kill on that Saturday morning, we decided to give the imperial palace one more chance, arriving there shortly after 0900 hours. It would turn out to be a wise move, for while the palace was still busy, it wasn't Chinese national holiday busy.

The Shenyang Imperial Palace resembles a scaled-down version of Beijing's famed Forbidden City 故宫. It was originally constructed between 1625 and 1636 by the Manchu emperor Nurhachi and his son Huang Taiji 皇太極. It served as the their seat of power until 1644, when the Manchus moved to Beijing with the establishment of the Qing dynasty 清朝. There are a total of 114 buildings in the complex, but not all of them are open, and some were being renovated or restored during our visit. The first building we went into was the Chongzheng Hall 崇政殿, the main hall of the palace known as the "Throne Room" (for obvious reasons). Ceremonies and sacrifices were still held there even after the rulers had decamped to Beijing:

The Phoenix Tower 凤凰楼, where the emperor, empress and the concubines would dine and read. Later, it became a storehouse for imperial portraits and seals:

The Qingning Palace 清宁宫 served as the bedroom for Emperor Huang Taiji and his empress:

The neighboring Guanju Palace 关雎宫 was where one of the concubines would sleep:

Being photographed for either the cover of my next vinyl album, or the author photo on the inside of the dustjacket of my latest book. I still haven't decided:

Shu-E was very interested in this wall artwork, so I took a picture of it as well:

The emperors of yore seemed to be very fond of erecting steles all over the empire:

The photo session continued:

The Wensu Pavilion 文溯阁 originally served as a library:

Artwork on display in the Jiujian Hall 九间殿:

The Baoji Palace 保级宫 was another imperial bedroom: 

Modern-day Shenyang tries to get a glimpse of its own forbidden city. Not an easy thing to do when the smog is heavy:

Getting ready to enjoy an ice cream toward the end of our visit:

It was shaped to resemble the Dazheng Hall 大政殿, and the end result was impressive...and delicious:

As is common in China, some tourists rented costumes for photographic purposes:

Shu-E and I left the palace just as the crowds were beginning to thicken. We first returned to our hotel to retrieve our bags, then continued in the same taxi to the train station. Despite appearances to the contrary, the building on the left is intentionally designed to look like something you would see in Hualien 花蓮 these days:

The typically cavernous Shenyang railway station 沈阳站:

My wife was disappointed that our train wasn't one of the most modern ones:

Even the seats weren't state of the art enough for her, but I was fine with the expensive comfort. Plus we were served 便当 (lunchboxes) for lunch - Kung Pao chicken 宫保鸡丁 in my case (though the presentation left something to be desired, especially compared to Japanese 駅弁 or Taiwanese 御便當):

The scenery from the train in northern China leaves something to be desired, with very little of interest to break up the monotony:

In all of these posts, you may have noticed the lack of mention regarding our daughter, Amber. She elected to stay home, citing the need to prepare for her upcoming finals. It was her first time to be home alone for an extended period (four days in this case), but good practice in preparation for when she leaves the nest this summer to attend uni somewhere in the U.S. My little girl is growing up too quickly (she's attending prom as I write these words), but Amber is now a legal adult and must be given the trust and responsibility that comes with leaving adolescence. And judging by the uneventful time she had in Beijing while her parents were hanging out with friends in Shenyang and gawking at the North Korean border, I'm sure she'll do just fine on her own in college. 

As for Shenyang, it was good to get out of Beijing and see a different part of China. Thanks to our friends Tom and Frida, we were able to overcome our initial impression of the city's grittiness, and see a bit of Shenyang's more modern side. Still, I wouldn't want to be posted there, namely due to the weather, pollution and...the provincialism. Call me a snob, but I've become quite comfortable in the waiguoren 外国人 ghetto that is Beijing's Chaoyang District 朝阳区, and at my age I don't need to experience the "real China" other than the occasional foray. As Danny Glover so eloquently puts it:

Face to face with North Korea

 

The DPRK as seen from the muddy banks of the Yalu

The Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK), aka that other Korea, the one that isn't K-Pop and Parasite. I've long held a fascination toward toward the northern half of the Korean peninsula, dating back to my teaching days in Tōkyō 東京 in the 1990's. I recall coming across a flyer from Koryo Tours advertising a trip to North Korea. I was intrigued but, alas, the small print indicated the tour wasn't open to U.S. citizens at that time. Nevertheless, the idea of visiting the Hermit Kingdom was firmly planted in my subconscious, and as the Internet became a fixture of daily life, I would find myself spending time in Pyongyang, Kaesong and Mt. Paektu vicariously through the medium of YouTube videos. In no way have I ever been enamored of life in the socialist paradise; rather, it's the sheer Orwellian nightmare that is the DPRK that has proven an endless source of fascination. 

Although Americans have been allowed to join tours of the DPRK at intermittent intervals over the years since I saw that flyer at ECC in Shibuya 渋谷, any chances I have of seeing the country for myself are as realistic as my becoming an ambassador someday. If entering the State Department in 2012 wasn't enough to pour cold water on any travel plans (for the same reason I can pretty much rule out ever going to Tibet), U.S. citizens are these days not allowed to use American passports to enter North Korea without special dispensations. And let's be realistic - trying to visit the North sometime in the future as a retired diplomat would be a very risky proposition. Even if the travel restrictions were to be lifted, I wouldn't want my golden years to kick off as a prop in a geopolitical crisis.

But all is not lost in the land of oddball opportunity that is the People's Republic of China (PRC). The city of Dandong 丹东 in Liaoning Province 辽宁省 has become both an important trade link between the DPRK and PRC, and a tourist spot for both Chinese and non-Chinese to have a gander at the mysterious land that lies on the opposite bank of the Yalu River. And so on the Friday following the Tomb Sweeping Day 清明节 holiday, my wife awoke to a smoggy morning in Shenyang 沈阳...:

...and joined our friend Tom at Shenyang railway station 沈阳站 to take a high-speed train on a roughly 90-minute-long journey to Dandong:

The AQI app on my phone read 191, but the air looked much more hazardous from the train windows:

Pulling into a brief stop at Benxi 本溪, a center for steel production and coal mining in northeast China, the signs of which were obvious as we pulled into the station:

Following another step, the train eventually arrived at Dandong railway station 丹东站. Leaving the station hall we were greeted by a familiar figure:

Signs of the close proximity of the city to North Korea were everywhere...literally, like this one advertising travel between Dandong and Pyongyang. According to Koryo Tours, the border is still closed due to pandemic-related restrictions, but there are indications at least some of those measures will be lifted in the near future:

If there's one thing that unites the former Communist bloc (both in northeast Asia and in eastern Europe), it's the hideousness of much of its socialist public art and architecture:

Reaching the banks of the Yalu River and my first glimpse of the DPRK. Everything was...quiet:

The Sino-Korean Friendship Bridge. During the time we were on the waterfront, we counted at least seven trucks driving from China to Sinuiju, the North Korean city on the other side of the Yalu River:

Our gracious guide for the day:

We continued southwest along the Chinese side of the river:

The massive Customs building in Sinuiju:

I was surprised by the large number of buildings popping up in Sinuiju. However, none of the structures appear to be completed, and there were absolutely no signs of any activity - just idle cranes and unfinished facades. In fact, except for several people walking up a driveway near the customs building, we couldn't see any North Koreans going about their business:

Passing by a seafood hotpot restaurant called Sun Moon Lake 日月潭, arguably Taiwan's single most overrated tourist site:

Sightseeing boats were doing a brisk trade, but we aren't allowed to go on them. The restrictions come not from the Chinese side but ours, who fear an international incident should a boat lose power and drift into North Korean waters with American diplomats on board:

In front of the Sino-Korean Friendship Bridge is the Broken Bridge 鸭绿江断桥, a relic of the Korean War (it was "accidentally" bombed by the U.S. in 1950). Unfortunately, access wasn't possible this day as the bridge is closed for renovation:

The six prohibitions: 1. Do not get off a boat and try to enter North Korea; 2. Don't throw any objects into North Korea; 3. Don't take photos of any DPRK soldiers or military facilities; 4. Don't verbally or physically provoke any North Koreans; 5. Don't send off any sky lanterns or fly drones into North Korea; and 6. Don't do any other shit that might upset the North Korean comrades:

A statue honoring the "voluntary" Chinese pilots who heroically resisted U.S. aggression during the Korean War:

The plaque briefly describes the air battles that took place in "MIG Alley". During the war 425 United Nations aircraft were either damaged or shot down. In all, 2.4 million so-called Chinese "volunteers" took part in the war, with 180,000-400,000 (estimates vary) being killed, including Mao Zedong's son *Mao Anying 毛岸英. Thanks to the heroic sacrifices of these volunteers, 26 million people in the DPRK now live imprisoned in one of the most miserable societies on earth: 

Eventually we decided to move away from the riverfront and have a look at what is essentially an ordinary, mid-sized Chinese city:

We ended up taking a taxi to the Andong Old Street 安东老街, which may have been a traditional food market at one point but has since been repurposed as a tourist site:

Yalu River Beer, which was pretty weak. I had hoped to pick up a bottle of Taedonggang, a North Korean brew, but stupidly passed on a chance earlier when we were down by the Yalu, as I didn't want to carry a bottle in my backpack for several hours. D'oh:

At least I did seize the opportunity to sample Pyongyang Raengmyong noodles. It was impossible to ascertain the authenticity of the dish in the food hall (and as representatives of the U.S. government we are not allowed to eat at any of the restaurants in Dandong allegedly operated by the Pyongyang authorities lest we violate sanctions put in place as a result of North Korean missile tests), but it was pretty good:

The hall is big enough for a rickshaw puller to take visitors around the building:

Following lunch we took a DiDi to Jinjiang Shan, making the short but strenuous walk uphill to the Jinjiang Pagoda 锦江塔. It shouldn't have been tough, but my heart and weight turned it into a workout:

The pagoda:

The pollution restricted the views, but it was possible to just make out a housing complex in Sinuiju beyond the part of town closer to the Yalu (not that you can see it in this photo):

Dandong was a little bit clearer:

We would soon walk over to the tower in the distance:

This lookout point was called the "Three Jing Cabinet" 三靖阁 in English, but regardless it was closed to visitors:

We walked downhill and returned to the train station, where Shu-E picked up some blueberries and strawberries (Dandong is known for the latter) for our daughter back in Beijing 北京:

Sure, there are adverse health effects, but all that pollution does paint the late afternoon sky gorgeous hues of orange and yellow:

Some of the DPRK-related souvenirs that I picked up in Dandong. I suspect the banknotes and cigarettes are fake, i.e. "made in China", and therefore the RMB I spent will not make it back to Pyongyang:

For research purposes I tried one of the smokes from the pack on the right. It was pretty nasty, even with a filter. Good thing I kicked the habit 22 years ago:

This magnet is now adhered to the refrigerator door at home in Beijing. In addition to the beer, I didn't pick up any lapel pins of the Great Leader, Dear Leader and Marshal Kim Jong Un, but I'm sure the ones I saw being hawked by Chinese vendors were also fake:

And thus concluded my first, and most likely last, up close look at the DPRK. At least Sinuiju gave me a brief window into the totalitarian state, even if that glimpse was from half a mile away, and there was virtually no activity taking place. But who knows? Years ago I wanted to see the Berlin Wall, but the events of November 1989 brought that dream to an end. But any disappointment I may have felt has been far outweighed by the improvements in the lives of the former East Germans. Perhaps some day I can feel that same sense of selfish regret for the residents of North Korea. One can only hope...

*Read this for the interesting connection between Mao's son and fried rice