Our trip was close to perfect, and we both agreed incessantly on how breathtaking and surprising this city is. Although if you had asked me in my first few hours there, I would have given you a very different story.
Arriving in Beijing is an attack on the senses, in all the wrong ways. I don't know why I keep expecting mainland China to be something it isn't; I have been there three times now, so the lack of (Western values of) politeness is no accident. As soon as I left the airport I was surrounded by lots of teeth sucking, lip smacking people who were spitting, shoving and pushing into the taxi queue, completely disregarding the 30 people who had been waiting before them.
Once in the taxi, I found nowhere to plug in my seat belt, and despite a chilly winter day outside, the taxi driver opened my window as we set off. Did I smell? Perhaps my cheeks were still red from screaming at the queue jumper and the driver thought I looked like I needed to cool off...
And this driver was cool. In the sense of being very relaxed: halfway into town, he missed his exit and so, in the middle of the motorway, with dozens of cars speeding towards us, he stopped dead and reversed to be able to turn where he needed to. I'd like to reiterate at this point that there was nowhere to attach my seat belt...
Once at the hotel, I thought a few laps in the pool would help calm me down from my completely unreasonable and colonial rage against the Chinese population. But of course not: in it stood an old man with tight swimming trunks pulled up to the middle of his chest, with swimming goggles on. He was not swimming, no. Only when I finished a lap or started one would he put his head under the water and - I can only assume - watch me swim. As the friend I was visiting said: "I can understand the pervy part, but why were his trunks pulled up so high?!"
I met this same good humoured friend that night for dinner as Krusty worked, and only then did I start to relax. He took me to the new restaurant and bar area around Sanlitun for dinner, and then we headed to Beijing's first boutique hotel, The Opposite House, for drinks at Mesh. As the name suggests, this bar has lots of mesh curtains hanging around low leather seats, and a cocktail list that changes every week. I sipped a "Model Jessie", of course, and took in the faces of Beijing's movers and shakers. Most lovely. The banter and beautiful surroundings made me feel better about having arrived in the chariot of death, and the morning's discomfort was all but forgotten. (All but forgotten means I have actually forgotten, doesn't it? Or does it mean that I have done all I could but couldn't forget it? I must investigate where this expression comes from...)
The next day, I decided to go for a stroll down Liulichang, the antiques street. Lovely calligraphy brushes and marble stamps weren't enough to distract me from the weather, though, and the wind cut through my cheeks like a sword. I ducked into a small shop, where for the next hour a small lady who spoke perfect English told me everything she knew about pi ying xi, or Chinese shadow puppets. These beautiful leather cut-outs were used in ancient times to tell stories in front of an illuminated backdrop to create the illusion of moving images. I bought a "happy man" and the "monkey king" to thank her for her time. Unfortunately she didn't have a rat...!
Outside I experienced brain freeze, literally, and had to go back to wait for Krusty at the hotel if my I wanted to keep my head on. My hibernation was rewarded that night though - our friends took us for dinner at Duck de Chine, a brilliant restaurant in the 1949 complex, where a gong is sounded every time the Peking Duck is brought out to be chopped, and where from a fireplace roasting the ducks emanates a delicious and irresistible smell. I didn't mind having missed Beijing by day again - Beijing by night was so much better!
On the Saturday, Krusty finally had a little time to give me, so we travelled the hour and a half in a car it takes to leave the city and climb the Great Wall at Mutianyu. Of course, this plan would have been incredible had Krusty not rolled over my previously broken toe with his suitcase that morning, but getting away with just a bruise I could still hobble... This fact must have been forgotten when Krusty and his colleague, who had come with us, suggested that we walk up to the wall instead of taking the cable car... I should mention at this point that this colleague was the one who took us mountain biking...
The wall was incredible (we took the cable car up, in case you were wondering) and the four days of leg pain I had subsequently were a ridiculously tiny price to pay for the pleasure of seeing this marvel. I also managed to get sunburn, in my eyes. I didn't even know that was possible... Krusty spent the whole walk saying "we are so lucky to see this", and he was right (even if he did say it about 105 times too many...). We really are lucky to see so much beauty.
Back in town, our friends had another great night planned for us. First we headed to the National Theatre, also known as Paul Andreu's "Egg". The building looks, well, like an egg, but it could also be a spaceship that might have landed on a lake next to Tiananmen Square. We were there to see a ballet interpretation of Zhang Yimou's Raise the Red Lantern, directed by the man himself (if you haven't heard of him, he was the man responsible for the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics last year), and it was, again, breathtaking.
The story is of a young girl who, after falling in love with a Peking Opera singer, is taken to the Forbidden City to become the Emperor's third concubine, against her will. There she encounters the Peking Opera singer once more, and conducts an affair that gets discovered by the first concubine. But as she reports it to the Emperor, she is shunned too, and all three of them are executed, concluding the show. Harrowing stuff, eh!
The costumes were stunning, with the coloured satin ballet pointes creating a satisfying effect of bound feet (even if this would have been chronologically incorrect, the mix of East and West was still satisfying). As the young girl's virginity was taken she and the emperor ran though a tall Chinese screen, ripping the paper panels, and as they lay on stage, a huge, blood red piece of silk was placed to cover them... Beautiful. For the execution scene, the guards came out with long red sticks covered in red paint which they bashed against a large white frame of canvas - the noise and stream of red paint were extremely effective. My friend (who studied with me at Hong Kong University) and I were in Comparative Literature heaven.
The next day, we made an obligatory stop at the Forbidden City. We took the audio tour and I couldn't stop oohing and aahing at the intrigues, so much so that Krusty accused me of making it into "Sex in the forbidden city". But consider the facts: Empress Dowager Ci Xi would whisper orders on behalf of young emperors through a yellow curtain (a fact at the origin of a Chinese idiom very similar in meaning to our "back seat driver" one); the last emperor was put in control of the kingdom at the age of just three, crying during his coronation so that his father ominously said "It's finished, it's finished" without realising that the empire was, indeed, finished; and another emperor's favourite concubine had a son that she had to hide away for five years to protect him from another concubine who would murder any babies that were born to keep her status of favourite... And the list goes on.
Walking through the red walled-corridor of this giant structure (which is not called City lightly), we got such a sense of history that it followed us all the way to the yummy dumpling restaurant (where Krusty went for... crispy deep-fried pig's intestine...) and even on to the plane back to Hong Kong.
And so there you have it, three days in Beijing and a lifetime's memories to remember. I strongly suggest you make the trip yourself...
No comments:
Post a Comment