China 2007

Out of batteries, running low on clothes, I was prepared for a day of disappointment. As I prepared for the day, I didn't need to look out the window to know that the low white fog/smog covered the city for many hundreds of miles, and perpetual traffic clogged the streets our bus would soon be aggressively driving through. Our driver, by the name of Tao, was certainly very efficient. As I scooped out my usual breakfast of Corn Flakes, I looked down at my phone to see "Cathay Pacific Airways Ltd" calling. God, I love caller ID. We were about twenty minutes away from leaving, but I was still overjoyed to hear that my bag would arrive that day. It was at least a twenty-five minute drive from the airport. Ah, the irony. Anyway, I had managed thus far - I put all my resources together and discovered that I had 11 minutes of battery power in all. I proclaimed it would be a "damn good eleven minutes."

We first drove to the Temple of Heaven: once an ancient tribute to the gods, now a popular park for the elderly to exercise in. Hordes of old Chinese people occupied corners of concrete, waltzing, waving flags in decorative patterns, waving swords around, playing hacky-sack, singing dischordantly, musing over the next move in a checkers-like game feature circular pieces the size of one's fist, each engraved with a different character, and performing many other diligent activities. Some of them invited us to join: the flag-waving, the dancing, and a few others. Many ladies walking around insisted that we buy a Chinese hacky-sack for one US dollar. I told them if they could keep it going fifty times in a row, I'd buy it. They sombered away, only managing five or six kicks.

We ran to catch up with our speedy guide - who we all know as 'Lee' - through a long corridor filled with people claiming a bit of personal space for exercise. We rose through some steps and another gate (don't step on the thresholds; your soul might be trapped in hell eternally) until this magnificent building, much more dome-shaped and circular than most Chinese architecture, supported by twenty-one pillars, rose up into the sky. It was colorful beyond the usual splendor of gold, so the reflectiveness of the roof and of the rings of stone surrounding the structure were not so dull as previous monuments. We passed through another threshold to come upon a similar structure, but open. There were no pillars and no dome in the middle. There were nine rings of stone, each containing 81, 72, 63, until the middle ring contained 9, and then, there, it lay - the center of the universe. It was a small block of stone, slightly elevated above the rest, where people lined up to take pictures. The whole circular deal rose up from a barren square area, and in one corner a huge steel tripod rose up even higher. We inquired into its purpose, and apparently a giant lantern was sometimes hung there. Not surprising, as Mr. Kozden remarked - very like the Chinese to not conserve empty sky. I thought I also spotted a security camera staring down at the center of the universe from there.

Then we were off to eat lunch with a local family. I ate about five thousand cherry tomatoes, and a bunch of common food. The "common food" was a green bean mixture of many fascinating spices, and our guide claimed that it could be eaten at all meals of the day. We were also presented with a gigantic platter of dumplings and given a tour of the cramped courtyard, shared by eleven families. These historic, tiny, one-room houses were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars for being in the remaining Hutong district of Beijing. And our host actually owned three. If she sold them, she would have no place to live - but she would be rich.

We took a vote as to where to go next on the rickshaws. It was a choice between watchtower (spectacular vista) or tea garden. I was with Mollie on a richshaw with a very old man as we rode through cramped alleys to the garden. We were supposed to tip our cyclists/drivers a few bucks, but we found our driver to be somewhat poor - he had no stamina and kept falling behind the group, going over unnecessary bumps and not paying any attention.

The garden itself was much better than anybody (specifically Mrs. James; she was the loudest) expected. After a tour of the same old holey-rocks and shrubs, we entered a tea house. We got the full treatment - a formal tea ceremony and explanation of everything. First, the smelling cup, which we rolled between our palms and absorbed the scent. Next, we tried three types of tea, each replacing the previous as the group's favorite. First, green; next, jasmin; finally, black (or red). The green was strong, the jasmin was smooth and refreshing, and the black tea was sweet. Paulina's mother bought a whole $400 set to ship to the U.S., and we were immediately on our best behavior to try for a chance at its use.

Our final stop for the day was at a working Buddhist temple, one of the oldest and most famous in Beijing, the Lama Temple. Gina showed me how to pray without incense, although most of the natives horded the stuff, and Mrs. James declared herself to be Buddhist. We encountered a monument to Buddhist art in the form of sand - a huge square, flat tapestry constructed entirely of sand, and redone at each ceremony. It was encased in glass in a dark temple where no photography was allowed, but it was truly a spectacle. Layer upon layer of free sand was built up to form intricate, symmetrical patterns, covering at least 4 square feet in the most minute detail. Contained in each temple building was a Buddha, surrounded by paintings or statues of "deities" or disciples. As we progressed through the the complex, the main statue in each building because bigger and bigger, from almost human-size to nearly four stories high - a giant in any terms. Sadly, no photography of these great works was allowed.

We hit the markets ready to spend. Everybody returned to the bus with bags full. Our first market of the day was the Xiu Shui Pearl Market, featuring many fake brand-name products - shoes, bags, suits, ties, and clothing - cheap pearls, and ridiculously expensive pearls. I bought very little until we got to the Panjiayuan Silk Market, where I succumbed to the beauty of several silk outfits. I was nabbed by two ladies in a jacket shop for at least twenty minutes, and we debated the merits of buying jackets in the hot, humid weather. I tried to use my sensational humor to escape, but it took a lot of time and pleading. I still bought quite a lot by my standards, putting my bag over the limit by a few pounds.

At our standard group dinner, I sat at Mrs. James' table. When we had mostly finished, she suggested we leave one by one, inconspicuously, to see if the other table would notice. We had gotten rid of most of the table when the other started asking why we were going to the bathroom all together, and in the wrong direction. So the remaining few people just ran for it. That's Mrs. James for you.

We had a small bit of free time before bed and packing, which I used (along with Gina, Paulina and Peter) to go ice skating. It took us thirty minutes to find the ice-skating rink, on the heels of Gina, who had even been there before. The shoes were painful, but I managed to make quite a few circuits around the arena, beating out Paulina but not coming close to Peter's tricks - one-foot turns, skating backwards, and spins. I stayed a little late to check out a China Mobile store, or at least a sign that suggested one, but got lost on my way out (which involved simply crossing the street). Peter had to come back and resue me. As I settled in to our messy room, admiring the batteries charging on the sink, I dreaded the 4:45 wake-up call ahead of us.