Until the Forbidden City, the most of China I had seen was the airport, the highway and my hotel room; and aside from the random signs emblazoned with Chinese characters in said location, there was little to distinguish this country from all the other countries I had visited in the past. That all changed upon getting to the Forbidden City. It was my first real glimpse of both traditional Chinese architecture and life. (I'm a firm believer in the concept that culture's customs are effortlessly captured in doors, windows, pillars and ceilings. This trip, once again, proved this to be true.) It was peaked, it was red, and it was entirely captivating. With my finger glued to the shutter button, I trailed behind our guide, trying to pay attention to the facts but invariably getting distracted by the aesthetics. Historians and professors will shudder but I really don't think dates matter. Exact dates that is, sure it's important to have the time period established but beyond that point, it matters little for the visitor. What matters is the feel, that intrinsic weight each place has. And this City had it in spades. Call me a willing participant in the all too real honeymoon stage of the trip but the mere fact that I couldn't pick just one photo for this post speaks for itself. Here's a corner of photographic bliss. 
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