Walking the Wall

Tiananmen - The Gate of Heavenly Peace

You didn’t think we’d leave Beijing without marching you through the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square, did you?

Truth be told, neither spot is among our favourites on the Beijing Tourist Trail. Too much concrete; too many tour groups with bullhorns, hawkers with souvenirs, predatory art students. It’s not a good choice for a relaxing afternoon. People-watching, on the other hand . . .

Say “qiezi”

Tiananmen and the Forbidden City are, however, two of those places you can’t go to China without going to. Tiananmen Square is the birthplace and symbolic center of the People’s Republic of China; the Forbidden City was the symbolic heart of imperial China. The first time you visit them, they will inspire you - with awe, or fear, likely both.

I don’t know but I’ve been told, standing still gets kinda old

Tiananmen Square goes on, and on, and - it can seem inhuman, but it is, well, big. If you’ve managed to forget you were in a Communist country while sipping Starbucks coffee and shopping at all the high-end boutiques in Oriental Plaza, Tiananmen Square is always there to remind you.

Now, what are the party colours again?

This year they even displayed nice floral representations of the Three Gorges Dam and Potala Palace in Tibet specially for National Day. Subtle, guys.

A miniature Potala Palace, just like in Lhasa!

And a miniature Three Gorges Dam, making the desert bloom

Lest you think the CCP stole their impulse toward monumentality from Stalin, the Forbidden City will reassure you that it’s just a Zhongguo thang. Here the hard edges of socialist architecture are replaced with curves and flying eaves, but you’ll see the thread from past to present in the expansive courtyards and imposing buildings.

Unlike Tiananmen, though, the Forbidden City does have its quiet side. If you can elbow your way past the crowds, the gardens and smaller buildings on the north and west sides of the palace complex are worth a visit no matter how many times you’ve been. Here, you actually have the space and time to pay attention to the finer details of the gardens.

And when you want a bit of reflective quiet time, you can find that, too (if you’re patient enough to let the wave of tour groups move past you).

But don’t just jump into one of the waiting taxis when you leave the gates of the Forbidden City. The ancient site is right next to a beautiful residential area of alleyways and canals, where old men fish, play chess, fly kites, and stroll along huge red walls in the afternoon light.

Brendan says:

I think I’m finally beginning to understand this.

This morning I took my coffee back because it was cold. “Umm, I’m sorry,” I began meekly. “My coffee is not very warm.”

The girl behind the counter grabbed my mug, cupped her hands around it, and gave it a bit of consideration. “I think it is warm.” She handed the cup to someone through the window to the kitchen and muttered something in Chinese.

“Umm, could I have another coffee, please?”

She flipped on the espresso machine and checked the temperature of the water. “The water is warm,” she said. “It will be the same.”

“Okay.” I conceded the point. “Could I have my old coffee back?”

She retrieved my mug from the kitchen and without a word, gave it to me, smiling. The coffee was steaming hot.

*****

This sort of thing happens all the time in China. If you, as a customer, point out any sort of problem with a product, or service, no matter how politely you put it, the problem will be strenuously denied. It doesn’t matter how obvious the problem is, or how easy it is to correct, how understandable and innocent the error was, or how transparently absurd the denial is. Sometimes the problem will be fixed, usually it will not be, but of one thing you can be fairly confident - “Oops, sorry, let me take care of that” will probably not be the response.

People wiser than I warned us of this phenomenon before we came to China. They also advised us not to throw tantrums in response. Naturally, I have ignored this advice repeatedly, but I can vouch for its wisdom. At first you may succeed in temporarily embarrassing the counter girl, or hotel clerk, or bank teller, but within seconds a crowd will gather round to watch, they will start smiling, then cracking jokes, then laughing openly, and in the end you will have succeeded only in embarrassing yourself. Believe me. I know these things.

A better approach is to apologise profusely and look pathetic. No one will ever acknowledge the problem, but occasionally, as with my coffee, it will mysteriously, silently be solved.

Though often not.

*****

Emma says:

We were in a town called Wuwei, staying at a hotel for one of our breaks. Doing our washing is always one of our first tasks.

I filled out the sheet of paper with the laundry categories, and in the category marked “Handkerchiefs” I put the number 6. Hankies, pack towels, that sort of thing.

I gave the nice lady our bag of clothes and the sheet of paper. She tried to grab all carbon copies of the form, but I managed to keep one. We have learned to always keep receipts.

When they returned our laundry that afternoon, I counted the clothes while the nice lady waited. Hiking pants, check. T-shirts, check. Six pairs of socks, check. “Handkerchiefs”? Five in all. Only five. Something’s missing.

“One of our towels is missing, lost,” I attempt in Chinese. “A red one.”

The nice lady turns and engages in fierce consultation with another woman outside. “No, there is no red one.”

“I know, it’s lost,” I say. “Can you find it? Maybe look in the laundry?” I put my hand across my eyes, shielding the imaginary sun, and turn my head from side to side. Is this the international symbol for looking?

More consultation. “No, there was no other towel. No red one,” she says assuredly.

“Yes there was. See, the number 6,” I say, brandishing the pink carbon copy. “And here,” I say, pointing at the towels, “only five. Yi, er, san, si, wu.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, finally understanding. “This receipt, it’s wrong. This six, it’s wrong.” She points at each item in turn and counts them off: “One, two, three, four, five.”

“See, five!”

*****

How do you argue with that?

If you’ve ever had the misfortune of breathing in Beijing, it would probably never occur to you to take up an activity, like long-distance running, that forces you to really inhale that Beijing brew long and hard for three to five hours. According to The Guardian, Beijing has the world’s worst air (see “Satellite data reveals Beijing as air pollution capital of world” ).

Which is what makes the Beijing marathon such a unique event. Why, in a city with nearly 3 million cars on the road and 1000 more coming in every day, would 25,000 presumably healthy people choose, choose, to run 26 miles? Why hold one of Asia’s premier marathons, and this year the 10th Asian Championship marathon, in a city whose health clubs have taken to installing indoor running tracks?

But you know what they say – 25,000 Chinese can’t be wrong. So, at 8 am sharp on October 15, the starter’s gun fired and the ANA Beijing International Marathon was underway.

Me first! No, me! The starting line at Tiananmen Square

The elite pool of marathoners looked to number about 30 or so, the other many thousands of runners were just ordinary Beijingers and out-of-towners looking for a good time and a fun jog through the city that is to host the next Olympics. Starting at Tiananmen Square, the marathoners made their way through the north part of the city and finished at the future National Olympic Sports Centre. The first man across the line was Kenya’s James Kwambei with a time of 2 hours, 10 minutes and 36 seconds, while the first woman was China’s Sun Weiwei in 2 hours, 34 minutes and 41 seconds.

As in any marathon, the participants came in a variety of shapes and sizes – the young, the old, the insanely fit, the merely insane. But unlike any other marathon, this one had, pardon the stereotyping, a unique Chinese feel to it. In the ultimate loner’s sport, huge groups ran together. Some runners were clad in the highest tech, most outrageously expensive shoes and gear one could imagine; others wore pyjamas. Well after the race had begun, hundreds of runners were dodging through the crowd of spectators trying get to the starting line. The whole event had an atmosphere of happy chaos.

“Now young man, don’t go doing any fancy stuff”

And what Chinese event would be complete without some people dashing about in utterly inexplicable costumes? Meet the running red gum-drops . . .

“My mum said I should wear a face mask. Do you think this will do?”

If someone had told us six months ago we’d spend October in Beijing waiting for a broken foot to heal, we can’t honestly say we’d have been thrilled. Fortunately, there are consolations.

October is absolutely the best time to come to Beijing. There’s only a narrow window of time between Beijing’s stifling, smoggy summers and frigid grey winters, and it’s right now – clear skies (by Beijing standards), warm days and cool nights. We know that 8 is an auspicious number hereabouts, but we can’t help but wish they’d scheduled the Beijing Olympics for October (the opening ceremony is 08/08/2008).

Yesterday we headed out to our favourite spot on the Beijing Tourist Trail, the Summer Palace. We’ve been there before, but like many of Beijing’s most famous spots, there has been a lot of restoration work going on while Beijing dresses up for the Olympics. So for us, this is the first time we’ve seen some of the most famous buildings when they were not covered by scaffolds.

Most of the buildings and landscaping at the Summer Palace date from the reign of Emperor Qianlong in the 18th century. Though British and French troops rampaged through the grounds in the 19th century, many of the buildings have been restored, so it’s possible to get a good feel for the place as it once must have been. It was a beautiful, crisp autumn day when we were out there, great for strolling under the willows, fishing or just taking pictures.

Bridge and canals near the West Palace Gate

Mural from the Long Gallery

The Temple of Buddhist Incense

Courtyard, Temple of Buddhist Incense

Ceramic bull roof decoration

Detail, Temple of Buddhist Incense

Glazed Buddhas on the Hall of the Sea of Wisdom

Beijing skyline

The temple catching late afternoon sunlight

Strolling along the causeway

Dragon boat on Lake Kunming