PEKING A PLACE OF DELIGHT'

Hawera Star, Volume LII, 28 January 1933, Page 11

PEKING A PLACE OF DELIGHT'

pEKING is a place of delight (says a writer in an English journal).'Her old roofs with their green and yellow tiles, the long wide streets topped by ancient arches painted in reds and blues, gold and green, recall a past splendour I have not found in any other city in China.

No longer the capital of her country —Nanking has taken first place— Peking still retains much of her proud bearing, and in little ways reminds you of her old glory. iShe will not use the coinage of the south, and on arrival I Avas a little abashed to receive back my dollars with i\ polite request to change them — at a not inconsiderable discount—for the northern currency.

It Avas as I left the bank that I encountered Hsu Shun and his risksha. Ho virtually took charge of me and Peking from that moment on. Hsu is a most enterprising lad; he speaks English fluently, and has a simple courtesy of manner bred of lineage and tradition. Me told me quite simply he could trace back his descent for fifteen generations.

llsu, the ricksha, and I travelled many miles, for Peking is a huge place —city within city. First, the Legation Quarter, with green gardens and high surrounding walls; outside is the Imperial City, arid again the Forbidden City, where until the revolution only the Emperor and the Manchu princes dared to set foot. Further afield lies the Tartar City, where from their little mud houses, come the merchants and their camels.

It is amusing to see the fantastic animals, like precise old ladies, manoeuvre their-way through the mud gates, narrow as a man at top and bottom, but scooped out half way up to allow a bulgiug load to pass.

They journey from the city to the far hills of .Tehol, on the Manchurian border, and day and night pad along. As I watched a cavalcade departing, a flock of fat geese waddled by, their feathers painted a brilliant red —a sign that they were a wedding gift on the way to the groom’s house. The Chinese arc fond of birds, and one of the most delightful surprises

Temples, Palaces and Lotus Lakes

I have had here was a sudden soft music above my -head". A flock of pigeons, reed whistles in every tone and note attached to their tails, were passing oA r erhead—this is one of the conceits of the bird fancier, and it is a lucky man avlio can produce a coquettish little flapper pigeon to set the lead for his rivals’ birds.

'Temples and palaces embellish Peking—a few miles from the centre lies the 'Summer Palace, where, in the days of pomp and vanity, the Emperor would walk in the cool of the evening. - Wide lotus lakes, full of delicate pink and white blooms, spread into the distance, and in one spot, -where willow trees bend to the water’s edge, and, golden carp swim lazily, lies the famous solid marble boat which, legend says, may still be seen on moo'nlight nights making a fairy voyage, a royal and splendrous company aboard. In the Winter Palace, better preserved and, to me, of greater beauty, is the “Small Western Heaven, ’ ’ with hundreds and hundreds of pilgrims making their way higher and higher toward Nirvana. Here, too, is tne wonderful porcelain Screen of the Nine Dragons, each outstanding in its colouring and form. The Chinese woman, slender and cool as a flower, does not snop or walk about the streets in the heat of the day. .

But kiddies, naked and brown as berries, sit in the doorways or play mud-pies when the welcome carelessness of the water-seller makes a puddle. Laughing, chattering youngsters, they flourish and burgeon in the sun. In the early evening femininity appears in all its glory, and the big parks and open spaces are filled with Chinese beauties in long, straight-fitting gowns and well-dressed hair. Most of the children are adopting European clothing, as it is found that the “gym.” blouse and skirt is more suitable for athletes, and Young China is keen on sport.

It is said that once you come East you always return, and I have a feeling that Peking, with its old-world sights and sounds, the scent of incense arid the flurry of rickshas, some day will call me back again.