Aman Summer Palace

Secret doors and hidden passageways are the stuff of childhood dreams (and, let’s face it, adults love them, too). They’re the kind of thing that, with a good interior designer and architect, you’d expect to be more prevalent. Yet for whatever reason, they’re usually confined to Hollywood movies. But not, as Mr Smith and I discovered, at the Aman Summer Palace in Beijing.

Mr Smith and I had been ruminating on a trip to China for a couple of years. Fueled by a newish, somewhat random interest in Chinese antiques – though the idea that forgotten, family-heirloom porcelain cups and vases could fetch upwards of £20 million at auction may have had something to do with it – and subsequent Mandarin lessons, Mr Smith had been plotting a months-long sojourn to China for some time. In the end, though, eight days was all our schedules could afford (cue eye rolls), so we decided to spend the majority of this in the capital.

Unlike Shanghai, which has the frenetic pace and always-on buzz of a sprawling, cosmopolitan city, Beijing has a slower, more laidback feel. Sure, there was enough traffic at times to cause us to sit sullenly, in silence, in the backseat of our DiDi (the Chinese Uber). And don’t get me wrong, the air pollution was a bit of a bummer. But in general, Beijing felt calm and collected. Interestingly, nearly every scooter we saw on the road was electric (a government effort to try and curb the negative effects of a zillion vehicles), which means the city happily bypasses the incessant sound of 125cc engines that plagues other Asian cities like Bangkok and Ho Chi Minh.

But our blissful attitude was also due to the fact we weren’t in the hustle-bustle of the city. Instad, we were being treated like royalty at the Aman Summer Palace: a hotel truly like no other. Thanks to the fact that it’s, quite literally, next to the palace (and, in some areas, on the actual former grounds), it genuinely feels like a place of serious historic significance. The kind of place you feel privileged to visit. As you wander the raised walkways, through peaceful courtyards and elegant pavilions, you can’t help but wonder what the Qianlong Emperor thought as he strode through the exact same halls 300 years ago.

All of the rooms are set around a courtyard and feature tasteful Asian touches: a kettle shaped like a teapot, perhaps, or a tasseled Chinese good luck knot prettying a bunch of cables. Nothing is over-the-top or cheesy – it’s all crisp white bed linens and elegant wood period furniture; the only red in our room is courtesy of the contemporary bedside lampshades. No Chinatown lanterns here! This is the case throughout the hotel, too. The restaurants are sophisticated and refined, never garish, serving up steamed bao and congee for breakfast (though eggs and other western options are available), then steaming soup in elegant, cloisonné bowls for a hot pot dinner, where Mr Smith and I slurp up every last drop.

But back to secret doors and hidden passageways. Without a doubt, the highlight of Aman Summer Palace is the secret door through which you can slip, unnoticed, straight into the heart of the palace. Mr Smith and I get busy, partaking not once, not twice, not three times, but four times over the next two days. It truly is how I imagine it would be to step through the door at the back of the wardrobe in the Narnia books; on our first adventure, we’re plunged from the serenity of the hotel straight into a large group of Chinese tourists in matching yellow t-shirts – just as Lucy Pevensie landed straight into the One Hundred Year Winter on her first journey into Narnia.

Finding the right door in the maze of corridors on the hotel side is a bit tricky; luckily, attendants are easy to come by and always eager to show you the way. On the palace side, at sundown, when guards gently begin ushering tourists towards the exits and we know it’s time to find the gate once again, he guides us around a left turn, another left turn, then a right, then a left, and miraculously, we’re back at the hidden door. To get back into the hotel, we’d been told to use the loaner mobile phone, though in the spirit of adventure, we try simply knocking – and it works.

On our second outing the next morning, things are a bit calmer and Mr Smith, using his inner compass, guides us toward the beautiful Kunming Lake. It’s a hazy day, and I can imagine the Empress Dowager Cixi daintily making her way across the beautiful 17-Arch Bridge or the surprisingly steep Jade Belt Bridge while the Emperor has a sitting with his government officials. Forget the crowds at the gates, who are no doubt already working up a sweat in the humid morning sun: our secret passageway is the best way to enter and properly enjoy the Summer Palace (and, as far as Mr Smith and I are concerned, the only way).

Indeed, between the hidden door experience at Aman Summer Palace and the rest of our eight days in Beijing, our trip has an air of feeling like a childhood dream come true. And there’s not many better things in the world than that.