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June 10, 2005
Day One - Ri Tan Park, the Lama Temple, and the Temple of Confucius
The day started inauspiciously, with a gray mist and pouring rain at 5:15. Jet lag has a way of getting you up early over here. (Which you'd never guess given that I'm typing this at 2:46 on Friday morning, China time).
By 7:30, though, the rain had cleared off, leaving us with a cool-ish start to our day out in the city. After a buffet breakfast in the hotel cafe -- consisting of coffee strong enough to beat down Death himself, eggs cooked in that runny scrambled style that Lara likes, bacon, toast with tasty apricot and raspberry jams, congee (which is good, but pretty flavorless), fried rice and a bunch of fresh fruit that neither of us was brave enough to try -- we headed out.
Our first stop was the Silk Street Market, half a block west down Jiangoumen Wai Dajie. This was our first exposure to Chinese-style salesmanship. Which is to say, wandering through four floors of what looked like a really, really upscale flea market (and I mean that in a good way...recall that I like flea markets), being aggressively courted by literally every booth clerk. And I do mean aggressively. Around here, "Hello!" comes weighted with overtones of "You really, really want to buy this, don't you?" and "You're not doing right by your wife if you don't stop and check out my (probably fake) Louis Vuitton handbags!"
I turned on my city mode -- I began ignoring everyone just as hard as they were going after me. I believe that, later in the day, Lara and I got sworn at once for refusing to stop and look, but other than that, I think it's pretty much expected that you aren't paying attention. We passed row upon row of watches, pearls, scrolls, North Face jackets, Calvin Klein drawers, DVDs, CDs, clothing of every type, style and description, silk fabrics, jewelry, trinkets and doodads. I have friends who would be in seventh heaven here, but neither of us are really the shopping type, so we took a pass on most of the booths.
We actually did stop at a silk shop on the fourth floor. I found a really cool black silk Mandarin-style jacket with a dragon on the front. Without a lot of bargaining, I bought it for $42. Is it real silk? Dunno. But a similar jacket, even in synthetics, would have cost at least as much in the states, so I feel like a got a good deal. Plus, I got an introduction to the way shopping works, which paid off later.
Leaving the market, we walked north up Dongdaqiao Lu, looking for Ri Tan Park. We ended up missing our turn and covering a mile or so we didn't need to, but the walk was nice. The blocks that make up the sidewalk are covered in patterns ranging from simple to intricate. The streets in this area are broad, lined with trees, and slap full of traffic ranging from bicycles to motorized trikes of every description imaginable, from beat-up homegrown economy coupes to the latest high-fashion European sedans.
Hyundais are very popular, as are a few other Asian makes that I don't recognize -- most cars here are badged in Chinese, which makes it hard to identify the make if I don't immediately know the emblem. Citröens are quite common as well, as are VWs ranging from little Polos to the bigger Passat sedan. As a side note, VW makes a model sold here called the Santana. I commented to Lara that it wouldn't sell in the US because no one would buy a VW-branded rock and roll act.
Hondas, surprisingly, aren't common at all, except for the dinky, swoopy Fit saloon. American cars are also rare. We saw and smattering of Jeep Cherokees and a Buick Regal, but that was it.
The bicycles are pretty incredible. We saw everything in the range, but most are garden variety utility cycles with big steel fenders, with seats and sturdy frames. Some are painted and clean, more are dirty and dingy, many are so rust you wouldn't think they could move, but move they do. Traffic yields to no pedestrian around here -- and that traffic includes the bikes. We managed a couple of near misses with cars (though I think "near miss" is my American interpretation, since a couple of cabbies we rode with pulled nonchalantly into crowds at speeds that made me cringe, but which apparently didn't bother the locals), but we had a run-in with a bike on just about every block.
What's really cool are the cargo trikes. Some are purely pedal powered, many include a small gas motor, and some are even equipped with cabs. The "cargo" may be a passenger area (i.e. it's a rickshaw), or a flat bed for hauling anything -- and I do mean anything. Some guys were really proud of theirs, too. Check the pictures link for a view of one super-spiffy version.
Anyway, we retraced our steps to Guanghua Lu and turned west, walking through the Beijing equivalent of DCs embassy district. The "ugliest embassy" award goes to the Brazilians, for their banana-republic style three story dump, while the "stylin' and profilin'" awards goes to Kuwait, for their modern, high-concept square-edged marble monstrosity. The American embassy was a nondescript three story affair. Every one had multiple Chinese polic guarding the perimeter along, presumably, with other security measures. Smaller countries like Vietnam seemed in a big hurry to make their security cameras visible, while I never saw one on the grounds of the US facility. Granted, I wasn't hanging around making a study of it or anything...
Anyway, we finally made it to the park, and paid the 25 cent entry fee. Once we were inside, it was as if Beijing had almost disappeared. Traffic sounds dropped to something amost unnoticeable. As we strolled the grounds, we found children playing, a group of older Chinese singing and dancing to the music of a squeezebox-type instrument, two older men practicing their taichi, and a lone flutist standing near a hilltop pavilion. The music he played was nearly constant for an hour, with pauses only to change instruments. It was strange music, to be sure, but lilting and beautiful, and it carried out over much of the park.
It really was an odd sight to stand on the top of that small hill, looking out over a little ocean of green and barely seeing Beijing, hidden in the mist beyond, listening to that man trill out tunes that must have made his fingers positively blur. The morning was gray and overcast, but things felt calm and relaxed, much the way we've felt strolling in San Francisco, and far from the frenetic bustle of the streets outside the park.
We walked a bit longer, taking in a group of men fishing in the small pond, a woman chanting as she practiced some form of martial art that I'm not familiar with, and another group of older citizens engaged in some kind of dance involving tap shoes, which we weren't brave enough to investigate further.
Leaving the park, we turned south down Jianguomen Beidajie to the Jianguomen subway station. This, for me, was adventurous. I have a thing about subways. The only one I've ever really felt comfortable on is DC's metro. Even when we used to visit NYC every summer, I stayed the heck away from the underground.
The Beijing subway was pleasant enough. At 3RMB per ticket, it's rather a bargain (that's about 40 cents). The stations are heavily used, and carry a level of grit and grime commensurate with that, but they are well-maintained, free of litter and graffiti, and brightly lit. The trains themselves are regular, crowded and well-used. By which I mean they aren't as spiffy-clean as the Metro is, but they're certainly passable public transit.
Riding north and west, we headed toward Yonghegong station and the Lama Temple. We exited the station, negotiated a tricky approximation of a sidewalk, and ventured down the street, past dozens of small shops fronting the hutongs (old neighborhoods) hidden behind. Reaching the temple entrance, we paid the small entry fee, and once again were drawn into a world entirely apart from the noise and activity of Beijing outside.
Walking slowly down the long, tree-lined entry avenue, we listed to people and birds chattering at each other, mostly in Chinese, but with occasional bits of English, German and other European languages (that'd be the people, not the birds). In the temple proper, we saw Buddhist statuary of every kind imaginable. There were fat, laughing golden Buddhas on carved thrones, dancing Boddhisatvas, and tiny representations of high-ranking scholars. Outside, there were huge bronze prayer wheels, while inside were cloth drapes in the brightest, reds, yellows and blues, red-lacquered woodwork inset with gold carvings, and silk carpets in intricate patterns that simply boggle the eye. Outside, Chinese burned incense in giant censors to honor the Buddha, while inside the knelt and touched their heads to the floor, deep in prayer and oblivious to the intrusions of pasty-skinned Western tourists.
Photography, needless to say, was not allowed inside the temples, and my words cannot do justice to the beauty of the place.
The crowing glory of this temple, though, was an 26-meter, gold-lacquered statues of the standing Buddha, carved from a single white sandalwood tree and presented in 1901 to the Emperor as a gift from the Dalai Lama of the time (I think I have that chronology and the names right). The statue is simply fantastic -- tall, seamless, rich gold and deep blue, and beautiful. It holds a world record as the largest Buddha carved from a single tree (duh). I wasn't allowed to take pictures, but we did buy a small packet of postcards so we can show everyone.
Inside the temple, we also met a couple from New Jersey, who had recently ventured to North Carolina to see Duke's graduation ceremonies for their niece. Small world, eh?
We left the temple and went south along Yonghegong Dajie (our second wrong turn of the day). We passed a half mile or so of hutongs and shops before realizing our mistake, and returned to find the entrance to the Confucius Temple down a side street right across the main drag from where we started. The streets were busy, though, which made for an interesting walk. A group of people were playing a board game on one corner, using a gridded board with fist-sized engraved stones as markers. A streetcleaner in a fluorescent orange rainsuit used a woven straw broom to push water down the gutter, stooping occasionally to retrieve a bit of litter, which she dropped into the square steel bucket slung over her shoulder. Shopkeepers nattered to one another as they arranged incense, peddled cigarettes and ice cream, and meticulously brushed the sidewalks in front of their shops. The high-pressure sell of the Silk Street Market was nowhere in evidence here -- maybe because we were the only white faces for a mile or more.
We turned left down Guozijian Jie, and were immediately accosted by a postcard seller. He was pleasant enough, but kept after us for half a block to buy the same set of postcards we just picked up in the temple. Ahead of us went a woman walking a small Chihuahua. Half a block later, we entered the Temple of Confucius.
This temple isn't as well maintained as the Lama Temple, and though it is being restored, it's largely dirty and dusty, though pretty for all that. We spent only a little time here, as Confucian artifacts aren't as interesting or attractive as the Buddhist materials we had just seen. Two thing stand out, though. First are the trees in the courtyard -- gnarled cypresses, the youngest of which is 300 years, the oldest about 700 (this one was planted during the Yuan Dynasty). These trees are simply fantastic, with boles size of my head.
The second standout here is the Forest of Steles of the Thirteen Classics. This is a series of (I think) 113 massive stone steles, ranging from six feet to about 15 feet high, carved with a total of 630,000 Chinese characters. The steles are a completed recopying of the 13 classics of Confucian literature (and no, don't ask me what that means...I was just here to look). The calligraphy is simply amazing, especially considering the skill it must have taken to render the characters in stone.
A bit footsore by this time, we returned to the subway and headed back for Jianguomen station. By this time, the subway was more crowded, and the "Beijing funk" more noticeable. Every city has its peculiar smells. Beijing's is a mixture of deisel, sewer, rotten food and the cumulative odor of several million people packed together and sweating. It's not exactly unpleasant or offensive, but it's definitely noticeable. On the train, we stood for the whole ride, packed in closely, but not quite to sardine-like levels. At Jianguomen, we changed to Line 1 for Yong An Li station, which got us within half a block fo the hotel. We exited, return to our room, and promptly washed our feet. Make no mistake, sandals are the way to go in this heat and weather, but you will spend five or ten minutes each day scrubbing the grime from your peds.
After a short break, during which we logged virtual geocaching finds at the temples, we called room 380 to see if the Reedy family was back in. Sure enough, they were there, and in short order plans were made for shopping and dinner. Good thing, too...as we had skipped lunch, Lara and I both were getting the grumblies. Returning to he hotel lobby, we met the Reedys, the Olivieras, and a two or three other families from the Boston area, all of whose names escape me at the moment. We exited, caught three cabs, and headed out for Hong Quiao Market.
The trip to the market took about 20 minutes, in some of the heaviest traffic I've seen since I made the mistake of hitting the Washington Beltway at 5:15. Buses, cars, lorries and, of course, bicycles jockied for position on streets broad and narrow, all dwarfed by the skyscrapers of a city that already sprawls horizontally, and is now reaching vertically for more space. We asked Pam about the Beijing Wal-Mart. She said the trip would take two hours, and was "city" all the way. Amazing.
At the market, we found a less touristic version of Silk Street, heavier on the electronics this time, but just as aggressive in the salemanship department. We shopped a bit, and this time were less reserved about bargaining. We bought one or two small gifts for what we felt were reasonable prices, and walked away from a compact flash card and an LED flashlight that cost as much as I would have paid in the States. Oh, and batteries are a phenomenal bargain here. A pair of Kodak AAs cost a smidgen more than a dollar...less than half the US price. Anyone want us to bring some home? ;) We've also discovered, much to our delight, that Fanta here is as good as in Europe...sugar-sweetened and less syrupy than in the US.
After some shopping, most of the other families returned to the hotel, but we went with the Reedys to a noodle house across the main drag from the market. There, with Pam, Burt and Elizabeth, we enjoyed a dinner of roast beef and hand-cut noodles, served in a very low-key, very Beijing atmosphere. The waitstaff were positively taken with Elizabeth (Pam and Burt's four year old daughter, adopted from Hunan province). Dinner was tasty and very reasonably priced -- the five us had dinner, sodas and beer in quite sufficient quantities for just over 100 yuan, or about 12 bucks. Beat that, Taco Bell!
After dinner, we headed back "home." Intending a good night's sleep, we crashed almost immediately (around 9pm or so), but I've been up since 1:30 working on this entry and photo editing, so "good" might be substituted with "good enough" and a nap. For Friday, we're planning a hutong tour and a visit to the Summer Palace, feet and bodies willing. Look for more pictures and some video shortly.
Posted by brlittle at June 10, 2005 06:45 AM