Next up was my visit to the Chengde Summer Palace, which, funnily enough, is what many folks call the Chengde Mountain Resort—it's the same spot, but the name evokes that imperial getaway vibe. I returned there in 2018, this time with a couple of friends, determined to uncover layers I missed before. We arrived in spring, when cherry blossoms blanketed the grounds in pink petals, turning the place into a fairy tale. Starting from the southern entrance, we strolled through the Palace Zone, where the emperors' living quarters felt intimately human despite their opulence. I touched the carved wooden screens in the Yanyu Building, feeling the intricate patterns under my fingers, and pictured Empress Dowager Cixi lounging there during her visits.
The Summer Palace aspect shines in its cooling features—lakes, streams, and shaded pavilions designed to beat the heat. We spent an afternoon fishing in the Wenjin Lake, using bamboo poles rented from a vendor. I caught a small carp, which we released back, laughing at my beginner's luck. The water's gentle lapping and the distant call of cuckoos made time stand still. Venturing north, we explored the Hill Zone, climbing to the Pavilion of Eternal Spring, where the air was crisp and scented with wildflowers. From there, the view of the entire palace complex unfolding below was breathtaking—like overseeing an empire from on high.
One highlight was the Imperial Boat House, where replicas of ancient vessels bobbed on the water. We took a guided tour on one, the guide regaling us with tales of naval parades held for foreign dignitaries. The boat's dragon carvings gleamed under the sun, and I felt a surge of historical connection. Later, at the Anyuan Temple, dedicated to Mongolian allies, I marveled at the fusion architecture—Chinese roofs atop steppe-inspired bases. Inside, murals depicted epic battles, and I spent hours sketching them in my notebook.
Food-wise, we indulged in palace-style cuisine at a themed restaurant inside the grounds. The "imperial feast" included braised abalone and steamed lotus root stuffed with glutinous rice—flavors so refined yet hearty. We paired it with local sorghum liquor, toasting to our adventure. Evenings brought stargazing in the open meadows; without city lights, the Milky Way was vivid, sparking deep conversations about life's impermanence.
I had a personal epiphany at the Smoke and Rain Pavilion, sitting alone during a light drizzle. The rain pattered on the roof, and mist rose from the lake, creating that classic Chinese poetic scene. It reminded me why emperors fled here—to escape court intrigues and reconnect with nature. We also visited the nearby Chengde Imperial Palace Museum, housing artifacts like jade seals and silk scrolls, each with stories of power struggles.
Challenges arose too—like navigating the crowds during a festival, where lion dances and firecrackers filled the air. I got separated from my friends but found them at a tea house, sipping jasmine tea and sharing sesame cakes. The people of Chengde are warm; a vendor gifted me a handmade fan after I helped her with directions.
Overall, the Chengde Summer Palace is a sanctuary of elegance, where history whispers through every breeze. It's taught me to appreciate slow travel, savoring moments rather than rushing. If you're going, spring or fall avoids the summer heat—bring a journal to capture your thoughts.