May 04, 2006
The Greatest Wall
A few weeks ago I was in Beijing, finally getting a look at the capital of China. We took a twelve-hour, overnight train and arrived in a much colder Beijing at a little after seven in the morning, proceeded to our hostel, and then spent the day in Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, and Bei Hai Park. Our whirlwind tour of Beijing also included the Summer Palace, the Temple of Heaven, Drum Tower, a Lamasery, and the Ming Tombs. All these places were beautiful and historic, and most of them were under re-construction so that visitors during the Olympics in 2008 will see the best side of Beijing, but none of them could compare to the Great Wall.
One of the seven wonders of the world, the Great Wall stretches for over 4,000 miles, and in ancient times was used to protect China from invading forces, namely the Huns and the Mongols. One-third of the population of China was conscripted to help in building the wall, and hundreds of thousands of people died building it; the rumor is that they were buried in the wall itself, making the Great Wall the world’s longest cemetery. Knowing all this, and the fact that you can see the wall from space, I was eager to see it. Most Chinese think that you cannot call yourself a true Chinese until you have climbed the Great Wall; likewise, I couldn’t leave China not having seen the Great Wall—it would be like going to New York and now seeing the Statue of Liberty: unthinkable.
Coming off a disappointing tour of the Ming Tombs, we hoped that the Great Wall (or as Elwin calls it, “the Great Boy”) would not let us down. As our van followed the curved path to the top of the mountain, I saw the first piece of it out of the corner of my eye. The wall was broken off on the mountainside; it almost looked as if a chunk of it had been removed to make room for the road. From where it came to an abrupt end by the highway, it continued off in the other direction. It was crumbling apart, but that didn’t make it any less spectacular. My breath hitched in my chest—here was something ancient (those of you who know me know that I am obsessed with old things—antiques, old books, history), something I’d only seen in books, and thank goodness I was sitting down, because right then I really realized I’m in China, and it was a bit of a shock.
We got to the wall, and after a “cart ride,” which was really an excuse to put a mock roller coaster near the Great Wall, we got to a point where we could start climbing to the top. My second sight of the Great Wall was not as impressive as my first. The section we visited—Badaling—has been restored, and although it is in Great Wall spirit and form, it was not the ancient wall I had seen on my way up the mountain. This section is touristy and packed with people pushing and shoving and trying to take pictures with and of the wall and foreigners; for some, the foreigners seemed to be the bigger attraction. In any case, it was still awesome to see the Great Wall snaking off into the distance, and even restored, it was a sight to behold. To think that people did all of this by hand and on these massive mountains in ye olden days just boggles the mind.
When I was on the wall, climbing the many steps that it took to almost get to the top (we ran out of time), I had a few thoughts. First of all, you would have had to be crazy—no, more than crazy: completely psycho—to try to invade China when they have this wall set up for defense. They call it the Great Wall for a reason—the thing is huge, maybe twenty to thirty feet tall and fifteen or so feet wide (maybe more—measuring has never been one of my strong suits). The steps on the wall are torturously huge; some steps came to just below my knee, which I’d say might be a foot and a half. Stepping up was hard enough, but when I was stepping down, I just prayed to whatever deity might be listening that I wouldn’t fall. The wall was in the mountains—it’s built on a hill, so, not only are the steps big, but they are also steep, and one tumble and it could be all over.
Now, I know if I’d been part of an invading army and I was marching through the mountains, the instant I looked on that wall, I would have said, “Hell no, you people are crazy,” and have turned around. Secondly, if the army managed to get on the wall, all the Chinese guards would have to do is push the invaders down the stairs or off the sides, and they’d all probably die of complications and internal injuries, or they might break a limb or two, rendering them useless. That’s not to mention the tremendous height advantage the guards would have from the mountain combined with the extra feet from the wall itself—they could shoot anyone from that vantage point.
This is all well and good, but what is it that makes the Great Wall great? Sure, it was built by hand and it’s long, and it’s menacing. Well, here’s what I know: what makes the Great Wall so great is its prevalence as a symbol to the Chinese people. This iconic piece of architecture once built to protect them, now draws visitors of all ages from all over China who have one thing to prove: if they can climb to the top of the Great Wall—well, they may not have conquered China, as invading armies once hoped to do, but they have instead proved themselves to be true Chinese. This is symbolic, since one needn’t climb or do anything to prove what they are, but when looking out at the view from the highest peak of the wall, and seeing the path reaching out over the mountains into the distance, past and present fuse together. Suddenly there’s a vague, gnawing feeling and a glowing warmth: unexplainable pride and awe. Then, in that instant, it’s not about standing on the top of the mountain, but seeing where you came from, and knowing what this wall meant to the people that came before—protection, power, and pride—you know what it is to be proud of who you are and where you come from, no matter your ethnicity or nationality. And because of that, because of its legacy, it is the Greatest Wall, ever.
