Da Xiangguo Si

  Kaifeng, China
Sunday, September 16, 2007

    For awhile, I didn't think I was going to find a place in Kaifeng where it felt like I wasn't in the city.  With the city's constant movement and floods of people on the street and on campus, I was starting to accept that China doesn't have the space for big parks like Central Park or the Boston Commons.  The one place I thought I could find it was in Longting Park since it's surrounded by two big lakes, but after walking around there and being lambasted by a sound system that ensures you know exactly when and exactly what is happening during the Song Dynasty re-enactment, that hope was dashed fairly quickly.  I definitely didn't think I was going to find it in Da Xiangguo Si, the Buddhist monastery that is located right off a downtown street and around the corner from Gulou - Kaifeng's biggest night market.  But that's exactly what happened.
    Rounding the corner of Bootleg Street and walking a couple of paces, we found the monastery because of the big Chinese-style gate plopped between vendors selling sticks of incense taller than me and large billboards with obnoxious canary yellow backgrounds advertising the tourist attraction.  It's the first thing I've come across that is marked clearly in the city.
    Knowing next to nothing about Buddhism, Erin, our resident East Asian Religious studies major served as our tour guide through the complex.  Da Xiangguo Si was the largest and most prominent Buddhist monastery in China during the Song Dynasty.  But like most things associated with the Song Dynasty that Kaifengers hold near and dear to them, the sprawling 64-halled complex was swept away during the 1600s by one of the Yellow River's many floods that decimated the vestiges of the Song Dynasty capital.

a hall in Da Xiangguo Si

   
    What was rebuilt of the monastery is still kept and maintained by a legion of devout Buddhist monks who enjoy the relative religious freedom allowed by Beijing.  Walking around the monastery in their pale orange and cream robes, they man tables, incense booths and help worshippers pray to Buddha by hypnotically hitting a high-pitched drum.  But despite the hypnotic drumming, the monastery was absolutely quiet and peaceful.  The drum's sounds were absorbed by thick clouds of incense burning in the hall and by the cupped hands of the three grand Buddha statues shrouded in gold with red velvet tapestries adorning their heads.  Outside the hall, the only sounds to be heard are of shuffling feet and the gentle whir of illegal pictures being taken.  It's like the monastery is enveloped in a sound shield by the good karma that is released within the monastery's walls by every bird and turtle that is set free in honor of Buddha.  Whatever it is, I'm just happy that I found a quiet place to come to when the city becomes too much for me.
    Besides the quiet offered by the monastery, the real reason to come to Da Xiangguo Si is for their statue of Guanyin - the Thousand Armed Goddess.  To reach her, you need to circumambulate around the perimeter of the pagoda, walking past hundreds of Buddhist statues and carved depictions of Buddhist devotees.  While we were walking around, most of the statues reminded me of neglected Nativity Scene figurines - dusty, chipped paint, and being housed in a dark space.  Even with their shoddy appearances, they were still loved as people paid money to enrobe them in red, gold and orange velvet.

buddhist statues

    After circumambulating the whole perimeter, you walk through the arches to a smaller pagoda in the middle of a small courtyard to Guanyin.  Carved from a single tree and covered in gold leaf, the hermaphroditic goddess feeds off of the cloudy light let in by the open doors to glisten in the small pagoda that houses her.  She is amazing to look at.  The feat of carving such an intricate statue from wood is mind-boggling, but then taking in the sheer scale of the statue's mammoth size makes it even more awe-inspiring.

Guanyin

  Every arm is decorated with carefully carved hands, fingers, fingernails and jewelry. Two thin and fragile arms hoist Buddha up at the very top, making a sort of crown for the goddess.  Watching as worshippers trickled in to pray to the Goddess that has one thousand arms to help the devout, you can think of one thousand reasons why a country like China has a supernatural being that could offer a thousand potential antidotes to those problems.
    As we left the pagoda, walking past the burning incense and the quiet murmurs of prayers being sent to the all-loving Buddha, we exited the main gate and found ourselves back on the street.  Gone was the calm-inducing atmosphere of shuffles, hushed camera clicks and incense.  We were in the main essence of Kaifeng - haggling vendors and the jumble of bung-bungs, bicyclists and moped drivers.  As we rounded the corner and found ourselves back on Bootleg Street, we passed a man sprawled out on the dirty street.  Rattling an empty tin can with an extended arm, the man dragged himself slowly down the street, mixing with the trash littered on the ground, the residue of children's bodily waste and smashed food from the previous evening's night market.  He was hindered by a hunchback, a goiter on his neck and a thin leg that jutted out from underneath him.  The leg was completely devoid of any muscle or substance at all, it was simply the femur bone with skin tightly wrapped around the bone shaft.  I quietly sent a prayer to that the one-thousand armed goddess, hoping she would extend one of her many golden arms to pick him up.