June 8 - Temple of Heaven

I forgot to mention that while my group was out shopping the night before, they got dinner, leaving me to figure out what to eat. My best option seemed to be the hotel’s dining room. One glance at the menu told me to try the white fish in lemon sauce. I ordered, and then in about three minutes my waitress came back to tell me they were all out. My second choice was a tuna fish sandwich and French fries. While I waited, I contemplated how it could be that so many restaurants in China consistently ran out of food. It was mind boggling. Didn’t they have any idea how to order enough for dinner crowds? My food arrived. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. It was tuna salad on three slices of bread cut majestically. (Sort of a club sandwich but with tuna.) And then there were the fries. I cannot explain my elation at taking the first bite. In fact, I think I shed a few tears. Starvation does things like that to you, I guess. When I got back to the States, I explained to Stephen that in the three weeks I was in East Asia, I never saw any ketchup. This was no exception. Yes, there was a red colored sauce served with my fried potatoes but on tasting it, I realized it was sweet and sour sauce. No tomatoes were in sight.

Back to June 8. I woke up feeling pretty decent. We were supposed to meet at 7:30 for breakfast but I couldn’t get ready in time. Our next rendez-vous time was 9 a.m., but when I turned up in the lobby, only a few people were there. This was one thing that began to annoy me as the trip progressed: Some people’s inability to keep to any kind of schedule. At least one person, and I’ll avoid names here, had to get coffee every five minutes, so we spent time waiting for him or her to get a fix. Then that same person had some sort of inability to meet the group on time. If we were to meet at 9:30, he or she would come swaggering in 15 to 20 minutes late. What the reason was is beyond me. Just a person who can’t think of other people’s feelings, apparently. If I added up all of the time we spent waiting for this person, I’m sure I would find a day wasted. The worst part, though, is that this person’s laissez-faire attitude began to spread like a virus, until time itself began to lose meaning. I don’t have any problem with not keeping to a schedule, but when it takes several hours to get to a location that doesn’t stay open 24 hours, and you leave late in the morning, you end up rushing through and missing most of what it has to offer.

Today was a good example of that. It was absolutely chucking it down. No one wanted to get wet. Therefore, we took our sweet time getting ready to leave for the day. On the agenda was the Summer Palace, which I really wanted to see. It’s supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful. (Check it out at http://www.absolutechinatours.com/china-travel/Beijing-attractions/Summer-palace.html.) But because of the rain, we scrapped the idea. (We had umbrellas but nevermind.) Our second choice was the Temple of Heaven. Built in the 15^th century, this is where the Ming emperors offered sacrifices to Heaven. The central building called the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests is probably the best known and photographed structure, and it graces the cover of my book on Confucianism. Let’s go. I was ready. We arrived and were given a few hours to explore. It was really, really raining, but I didn’t care. The camera rarely stopped snapping photos. I just hugged my umbrella tightly to my head. To get to the “meat” of the compound, you have to walk along a long enclosed corridor. People were gathered doing all sorts of activities, from playing football with what looked like a shuttlecock to getting a singing lesson. Yes, you heard that correctly. The woman teaching them looked like she just got off guard duty, too. Once I had examined all of the main buildings, I took off for the Echo Wall, the Fasting Palace and the gardens. It’s probably me, but I have the hardest time trying to figure out maps. I usually end up going in one direction then once I realize I’m nowhere I’m supposed to be, I have to go back and try again. Makes for a lot of walking. I was trying to find the Fasting Palace, and after a lot of back and forth came upon it. I walked up to the guard, who made a gesture that I needed to go to another booth. The person working it was asleep. She woke up only to indicate that my ticket wasn’t getting me into this building. I wasn’t about to fork out more money – my time was running out – so I set off for the gardens. After all, did I really need to visit a Fasting Palace? The whole country had been a fasting palace.

In amongst the foliage – weeping willows – is an infinity shaped pavilion. That alone was worth the long trek in the rain. Every inch of the ceiling is handpainted with a different mythological scene. Flowers and bands of colors cover the rest of the structure. You could literally spend hours with our neck craned back, examining it. This was what I wanted China to be. Not dead dogs, strange food, hot weather, and irritating company. I wanted this. The gorgeous, lush and exotic gardens. The red pavilions with exquisite brushwork. And to top it off, because of the rain, the temperature was in the low 70s. I stopped at a rose garden before sprinting back in my soaked tennis shoes to the front gate. I was already about 15 minutes late, but figured since we had spent every day waiting on other members of the group, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I arrived, excited by what I had seen, only to discover that a few people had decided that they wouldn’t wait for me. They had already taken off in a taxi.

I don’t remember if we ate lunch or what we did for a meal, but I think it was decided again that people would go out shopping. Oh shopping. How repellent those words had become to my ears. Since we had only one night left in Beijing, I decided – what a novely – to go out walking, looking at a nearby garden and trying to catch a glimpse of Mao’s dead body. The best thing about the Day’s Inn in Beijing is that it is within walking distance of the Forbidden City. Set your feet in motion, and in about 10 minutes you are staring at Mao’s big mug, which, by the way, you can no longer walk under. I was just watching Bernardo Bartolucci’s home video of China from 1985, and you could clearly walk under the giant painting. I think security has been tightened since the Tiananmen Square “incident.”

At the entrance to the park is this giant, metal ball that looks like it’s disintegrating to ribbons. In back of that are a few stone planks onto which are carved flowers, etc. I took about 10 photos of that ball, hoping to catch my sexy reflection in it, but the damn flash kept going off. I had to settle for shots of my Birkenstock wearing feet. Bah. To the left of the ball is a stream filled with giant carp. Walk a bit further, and on the right are some covered walkways. Look up and you see beautiful bands of color and mythological imagery. Further along the route, and there’s a red curved bridge. From a distance, with the willow branches hanging over it, you know instantly that you are no longer in the United States. This feels like East Asia. Continue down the pathway and you encounter random art work. My favorites were a giant beetle and a snail. As I was snapping away – at a gazebo, at a wooden boat floating in the water – I kept wondering why anyone would choose shopping for cheapo trinkets over this. For me the purpose of traveling to a foreign country is experiencing its sights and smells, for better or worse. I can shop anywhere, but how many times can I experience that red bridge? Hear a cacophony of Mandarin conversations drifting from a gazebo? I don’t imagine this experience will come again.

I reached the end of the park. Navigating my way from behind a dragon decorated fence, I entered a public area that led to the square in front of Mao’s portrait. I had been here late at night and during the day, and it is always bustling with people. People who are posing next to the gigantic lion dogs, leaning on the metal lamp posts (decorated with flowers), or just trying to avoid the people who are trying to sell tat. One of the items for sale was a stringless, dancing paper man. Soldiers also maintain a constant presence. They march two by two, and in one instance, I encountered about 10 of them all lined up and heading toward a parked Police van. Maybe I’m paranoid – I am – but I kept thinking, if anything goes down, those guys are opening fire on us. One reason I hate crowds.

If you want to get to Tiananmen Square, you have to go into one of several underground passages that bring you up on the other side of the street. Because it was raining again, a lot of people were standing around, waiting for it to stop. It is in these underground passages where the less than fortunate people beg. (We saw them, too, outside of the Forbidden City.) When I say “less than fortunate” I mean those with club feet, missing limbs, and more. One guy that I encountered was kowtowing on a rug. He was missing a hand and looked really rugged. He kept repeating “xie xie,” as his body bobbed up and down. We were told not to give money to anyone, because I guess it only attracts more people. I don’t know. I felt like a piece of shit every time I “pretended” they weren’t around. I don’t know what’s worse – being a “rich” American and thus the target of price hikes and unwanted buskers, OR feeling bad that I was a rich American in a country where people work in sweatshops so we can buy cheap shit at Wal-Mart? I’m not Catholic, but boy do I have my fair share of guilt. On the other side of the street, I decided not to cross over to Tiananmen just yet. I wanted to know where this street lead, so onward I went. Eventually, I went past a national museum – closed until 2010, I think, for upgrades – a railway museum, and, on the other side of the street, some impressively large, very traditional looking buildings. (More on that later.)

Even though my legs were getting tired, and I was soaked to the skin again, I found myself continuing on. I was drawn forward by a large, very ornate gateway. I said a silent prayer to Kuan-yin and dashed across the busy street to get closer to it. Just before the gateway – and we’re talking massive in scale – was a street car, and on the other side some very odd looking buildings. I continued forward, trying to figure out what I was looking at. I can only guess that it was a shopping center only most of the buildings weren’t occupied. And yet, tons of people were milling around. For a minute, I thought maybe I had stumbled onto a movie set. Actually, I got that feeling a lot in China. I would enter an area that didn’t quite feel real. Maybe it was the heat exhaustion, too, that contributed to my dazed and confused state. (I just looked on a map, and it looks like I might have stumbled upon the Dazhalan Market, which is “Beijing’s most ancient and famous downtown business area with its own unique style.”)

Having seen all I could see – and not wanting to continue walking for fear I wouldn’t make it back in one piece – I turned around and headed toward Tiananmen Square. I passed several imposing buildings that were closed, until I got to Chairman Mao’s Memorial Hall. It is, I believe, where you can see Mao’s corpse, however, the building closed at noon, so that was a no go. I did stop in front of the bigger than life size sculptures of triumphant, often shirtless workers, obviously heralding a new and brighter world under communism. Having been to Paris a few times, I couldn’t help but think these were recalling the sculptural reliefs on the Arc de Triomphe. They have the same energy and power to them. I went to the end of the street, and, I think, had to cross back over. I seem to recall that if you wanted to go into the square itself, which was cordoned off, you had to reemerge at the crosswalk. After you crossed the street, you had to go through a security hut, where you put all of your belongings onto a conveyer belt. A lot of police/military were in there, and being a white chick I was a bit unnerved. Was I gonna get frisked and shouted at for being a capitalist? No. The Chinese couple in front of me were hassled more than I was. They didn’t even ask me to put my camera through the security equipment. As I’ve said before, it’s all very arbitrary how they handle security.

I walked toward the Monument to the People’s Heroes, which is a pillar you can’t get close to – also chained off – and got a few shots of the Great Hall of the People, which is across another street. In all, Tiananmen Square is very large. You could hold a massive rock concert here, but that’s about all it is: A large empty square. Since it was getting dark, I figured I’d head back, download my photos, and get some dinner. I think we were supposed to meet in the lobby at 7 p.m. I was there, but no one else was. After waiting about 15 minutes, I muttered “screw it” under my breath and went out again. A guy we somehow “picked up” at the airport – don’t ask – told me that there was a big bookstore within walking distance of the hotel. He said it was something like five floors tall. The only thing I really wanted to get in China was a copy of John Woo’s “Red Cliff” – parts one and two. If you don’t know, this is an epic film based on an ancient Chinese tale and starring Takeshi Kaneshiro and Tony Leung. I’ve been following news of it for ages, but haven’t seen any kind of release date for the U.S. (Gee, there’s a surprise.) I was determined to get my own copy rather than get shafted buying it on eBay. I didn’t find the store he was talking about, but I did find a mall. In it were a bunch of restaurants – the only food I recognized was at a Sizzler and the price was about 10 times the normal food price (we call this gouge the Westerners) – and a music and movie store. Yeah. I found the DVD section, hoping that the titles would be in Mandarin and English. I found a few box sets of the films of Zhang Yimou, and then realized that I owned all of the titles. Finally, I found what I was looking for – “Red Cliff: Part I.” I took my prize up to the counter, and took the chance that someone might speak English. The manager did, and she promised me that there were English subtitles. I hope that’s true. Now I have to change my computer to Region 6 so I can watch the damn thing. As I was walking out of the store – floating on a cloud, really – I saw a display, I’m guessing of new releases. There I found a different copy of “Red Cliff.” I grabbed it, and took it to the counter. I asked if this was the second part, and again, the manager came to my rescue. Yes, she said. This was the second part. I bought it. Even if they don’t play on my computer or even if they don’t have subtitles, I only paid about $14 for the two of them. I’m sure I would have paid five times that price on eBay.

I looked around a bit more in the mall for a place to eat, but nothing looked appetizing. The biggest problem of finding food in China is this: First, nothing is listed in English (no surprise, I guess) and Second, the food is never easily identifiable. You find some sort of meat looking thing with some vegetables and then drowned in sauces. I’m just not that adventurous, I guess. Outside the mall, I was getting really hungry. I found a McDonald’s a few buildings down, and actually went inside. The menu looked about the same as the American one, but since I never eat at McDo’s I needed some kind of confirmation of what I was looking at. No English language menus. I left, only to find a walk-up ice cream window on the outside. I ordered a twist cone – it was vanilla ice cream with some kind of green swirl. I bought it thinking it was green tea, but the green stuff didn’t smell like green tea. I tried scraping it off, but it went through the entire cone. I tossed it in the bin. (I know, so wasteful and evil.) Deciding to call it a night, I walked along this crowded area where there were tons of small stalls filled with a bunch of touristy tat. (That’s about all you find in China. Mao watches that break after five minutes – bought one of those pieces of shit on a whim. Lanterns. Satin shirts with dragons on them. Fans. Statues various. All kinds of crap that you could find at World Market.) One side of the street had some food stalls, so I went over to see what they were selling. This must be the “strange food” stalls we had been told about. There were large beetles for sale, wriggling scorpions on a stick (poor things), and other creepy crawlies. The white tourists seemed more interested in this fare than the locals. I also saw a large, spinning mass of meat that they were cutting up. It looked like something you see at a gyro restaurant, but there was no knowing what this meat was. And as I don’t eat red meat anyhow, I moved along. Back at the hotel, I ventured into the dining room and ordered my old standby – the tuna fish sandwich. It was just as delicious the second time around.

I will say one more thing before closing this very long entry. Nighttime is when the people riding the pedicabs come out. For some reason, I was a particular target for their refrain of “hello lady.” I don’t know if the reason was because I was Western looking, and they think we are fat and lazy, but I got kind of annoyed at the constant pestering for me to climb into their pedaled contraption. In Shanghai, we had taken a motorized pedicab and it was a fun experience. But in Beijing, when I was within walking distance from my destination, I didn’t want to be bothered. And let me tell you, they are bloody persistent. One guy pedaled after me and then kept circling me while I took photos of a gateway in front of a hotel. At first, I tried to be polite to the constant pestering to buy things, but I noticed that by the end, I would just flash them a grumpy look and wave my hand rapidly in that “no” and “leave me alone” fashion. I don’t even like having a salesperson come up to me in the U.S., so this experience proved incredibly annoying.