October 15, 2000
Dear All,
My trip to Beijing for the National Day holiday was all I had hoped for and more. My #1 goal was a visit to the Forbidden City with no restrictions on time. It was wonderful. By chance I picked the best weather of the week for my excursion, with blue skies, temperatures in the 70s, and a bit of a breeze. Perfect!
Lots of the people receiving this message have been to the Forbidden City (Gugong in Chinese) so I won’t do a blow-by-blow recitation. It was the site of the emperor’s state functions as well as the personal living quarters of the royal family. Needless to say, no expense was spared to create awe-inspiring spaces, both inside and out. If I, as a fairly experienced traveler, am blown away by Gugong every time I go there, think of the effect on people several hundred years ago.
I walked all over Gugong to my heart’s content, just what I had hoped to do. I arrived at the Tiananmen Gate about 9:15 and the people were pouring in. As far as I can tell, they kept coming all day long. I hadn’t really counted on the holiday crowds but I should have -- kinda like going to the Washington Monument on the Fourth of July. When I walked past the ticket booth after 3 p.m. there were still folks in line to enter the grounds. I spent a lot of my time on the periphery rather than the main south-to-north itinerary, looking at some of the smaller museums and just generally poking around. In many respects the back lots are more interesting then center stage, and I’d seen the major public buildings before. I took lots of pictures but that’s not the point. It was BEING there.
My photos cannot begin to capture the grandeur and color and scale of the Forbidden City. It never fails to impress me. Just think of me wandering around for almost five hours, stopping at the Starbucks (yes Starbucks -- American capitalism is ubiquitous!) for a cappuccino in the middle of the morning, watching the people, admiring the architecture. I have achieved my goal of being there as long as I wanted -- now I need to do that in the off-season when the crowds are diminished. Wouldn’t it be lovely with a fresh dusting of snow?
I left a little before 2 p.m., thinking that there was a traditional music performance at the Gugong Concert Hall -- alas it was the Beijing Concert Hall instead. The music would have been a lovely addition to the visual riches of the morning. Instead I went to a teahouse to the west of Gugong, thanks to a friend’s recommendation. As you enter, you are ushered into a little private room with antiques and lattice partitions where you are served your choice of tea. Since it was the middle of the afternoon there were few customers, so I just rested and wrote postcards for an hour while sipping tea. I could get addicted to this teahouse thing.
Then I walked back to the other side of Gugong to look for a restaurant suggested by Abby Washburn, CC ‘99. She said she only went there when someone else was paying, a smart move for a twentysomething. It was upscale western food with interesting combinations, such as grilled lamb chops with Beijing pasta cubes and Xinjiang ratatouille (probably because Xinjiang is a predominantly Moslem area of China, I detected an overtone of Arabic flavors, perhaps some cinnamon in among the vegetables?). I would kill to have this restaurant in the Springs for the cuisine alone. In addition, the setting is spectacular, right on the moat on the east side of Gugong, literally with windows overhanging the water. That evening I got the best table in the house, facing directly toward the east gate of Gugong, which was brightly lighted so it was reflected in the moat. I didn’t bring my camera since I thought it would be tacky to take photos in a nice restaurant, but was I disappointed not to be able to capture the scene.
Another high point of my trip was my hotel, a converted residence of a top Qing official (one book said a eunuch), in a traditional residential neighborhood. Beijing is known for its hutong (hutongs?), little alleyway neighborhoods that have been virtually untouched for centuries. Well, my place had been touched, I’m happy to say, in terms of electricity and plumbing, but much of the charm of a wealthy person’s residence remained. The name of the place was the Bamboo Garden Hotel and the name describes it perfectly -- the center of the compound was a lovely garden dominated by bamboo. (You can check it out on the web at www.bbgh.com.cn) Quiet, peaceful, traditional, so much better than an interchangeable Hilton or Sheraton. I felt like I belonged in some way to the neighborhood for a few days. (For those of you who know Beijing, it was just off Jiu Gulou Dajie about 10 minutes walk to the Drum and Bell Towers.) And becoming totally confused in the twisting alleys made me feel even more involved with the neighbors-plus it was a good way to learn the Chinese words for “I am lost.”
I did so many interesting things in five days:
- Going to the Temple of Heaven early in the morning to see the people doing tai qi, practicing sword exercises, ballroom dancing, walking their birds, and simply sitting under the cypress trees. Given how small most people’s apartments are, the park is an incredible oasis.
- Listening to amateur groups perform Beijing Opera -- or at least that’s what I assume they were doing. The instrumentalists were playing pipa (a two-string violin), guitar, and percussion, and the singers were doing what seemed to be a Chinese version of arias. One man would declaim musically while the other listened attentively (or occasionally sipped tea or took a peek at my camera and me). Then the other would do a bit of singing. These were pickup groups, I assume, or maybe a bunch of friends who came to the park regularly to perform under the covered walkway.
- Getting hungry while walking downtown my first night and thinking, What is the right thing to eat in Beijing? Beijing duck, of course. I went to the best-known place in the city and waited in the lobby like everyone else. After a few minutes a young Chinese woman came up to me and said, “Would you like to eat with my friend and me? We would like to talk with an American.” At one point I got the sense that they wanted me to buy the meal for all three of us, but after I said, “I don’t have a lot of money” (which I didn’t since I had just bought a bunch of books) she said again, “Come sit down with us.” So I did. She is a radio disk jockey in Guangzhou and her boyfriend is a graphic designer there. So we drank beer, ate fabulous greasy delicious Beijing duck, and they ended up treating me.
After the duck I walked south along a pedestrian mall, hoping to catch a taxi on the main street that runs into Tiananmen Square. Bad idea for that purpose but it turned out to be wonderful. The sidewalks were full of people in a festive mood. If you didn’t look at the details of the faces you would find it very similar to an American holiday crowd. Families of all ages, kids buying those fluorescent wands that become necklaces and bracelets, folks waving little red flags. So I kept walking west to Tiananmen Square since I have never been there at night. In the center of the square was a huge display of what looked like a early photo of Chou Enlai (I’ve never seen a picture of a young Deng Xiaoping so I couldn’t make that distinction). Huge red banners with patriotic inscriptions, I assume, plus shrubbery, some neon displays, and what looked like carnival rides at the south end. Just exuberance at National Day? Filling up the square so that thousands of demonstrators or silent protesters have nowhere to go? It looked odd to see the square as something other than a vast empty space.
Then I looked the other way and noticed people walking in and out of the Forbidden City. It’s now 8:40 p.m. or so. Since some of them were going in, not just coming out, I decided I could go in, too. So I did. The imperial part was closed but the huge courtyard areas in front of the Meridian Gate were wide open -- and free. I was most
intrigued by people dressing up in Ming Dynasty costumes and getting their pictures taken in traditional poses. What an unrevolutionary thing to do -- to enjoy wearing feudal costumes. I’m surprised that the huge photo of Mao over the Tiananmen Gate wasn’t spinning! Maybe Mao’s body in the mausoleum across the square was twitching in its formaldehyde bath.
- Being invited to a party at the home of a Chinese woman who is an international economist for Goldman Sachs. The guests were a fascinating collection -- economists of course, a concert pianist, several entrepreneurs, neighbors, a couple of graduate students, a teacher, a poet, a Belgian who has been living in China since 1986 and speaks very little of the language. Everyone spoke English with fluency from flawless to decent. I’ve been fascinated at the way that virtually all foreigners and many Chinese know English, from the educated elites at the party to the students here at the Foreign Experts Building from Russia, Sri Lanka, Yemen, and the Czech Republic. There was an intriguing conversation about the future of China, with several people arguing pessimism because the government was instituting reforms in so many areas at once that it was ineffectual. Another discussion was on the reasons why the west industrialized while China, despite its technological superiority and market economy in earlier centuries, did not. Low point of the evening -- being asked to sing “typical American songs.” But otherwise it was absolutely fascinating.
- Shopping in traditional Chinese markets. I find them overwhelming and disorienting and I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s the fact that, even when organized roughly by primary merchandise, the total effect is a jumble. Yes, the pearl vendors are in one area and the luggage salesmen in another, but the luggage guys also sell cloisonné bangles and the pearl vendors sell purses. And, since bargaining is essential for shopping in China, you need to work hard to find out what the going price is for item X. Then you need to go to several different stalls to compare merchandise and prices. Some of these markets cover blocks and blocks. How do you figure out who has the best deal? How could you determine whether these North Face jackets are less inauthentic than the knockoffs at the stall upstairs? Just as you can never learn a language completely as an adult, perhaps adaptation to a truly market system is something you need to experience as a child-or have bred in your genes.
- After a quick reconnaissance of the Hongqiao Market one morning, I decided I needed to bolster my strength before returning to make some purchases. One of my guidebooks recommended the Old Beijing Noodle restaurant as redolent with traditional atmosphere. It was a noisy bustling place, full of people. I ordered noodles, natch, even though the menu had many more things on it. When the waiter brought the noodles, he had a large tray with a big bowl surrounded by about eight little saucers, each containing one topping such as bean sprouts or scallion shreds or some kind of pea. The waiter tosses all the toppings on top of the noodles in rapid-fire motion and then places the bowl in front of you. The sound of little dishes being tossed in a restaurant with hundreds of diners was almost deafening. Your own choice of flavors-minced meat, eggplant, whatever -- comes in a separate bowl for you to pour over and mix into the noodles.
- A visit to Beijing University, the Harvard of China (or is Harvard the Beida of China?) with an American who studied there in the 1980s. It’s always fun to go someplace with an insider. The government funds the best and the difference between Beida and Chuanda (which is no slouch in the higher education biz in this country) was noticeable.
- Learning which foods are yin and which are yang -- and why.
- Walking around Houhai Park, watching families enjoying the holiday, trying to figure out the identity of the mysterious foods being sold on the streets, visiting the homes and gardens of prior bigwigs now turned into museums and amusements. It seems that one of the traditions of wealthy families was the creation of miniature landscapes -- mountains, lakes, hillsides, streams, and so on. I particularly enjoyed the garden at the home of Madame Sun Yatsen, including a pond in the center of the grounds with a fan-shaped pavilion around two sides. The pavilion was really a covered walkway a la the Summer Palace, with brightly colored designs on the crossbeams on the underside of the roof. I love the color and designs of Qing Dynasty architecture. I could have enjoyed living in that period, although I probably wouldn’t have been born into an aristocratic family. And being a peasant in China in any era would be a very difficult life. Given the odds, I guess I wouldn’t want to gamble on being born into high status.
- Experiencing a Chinese tea ceremony -- not as elaborate as a Japanese tea ceremony.
- Spending a few hours in the expatriate area and finding it oddly disconcerting. Loaded with bars and restaurants serving Budweiser and hamburgers and pizza and pasta, it seemed very strange. It wasn’t the cuisine, it was the lack of street life. Where were the vendors? Where were the shoeshine ladies and the guys with fruit baskets on shoulder poles? Why was no one eating squid on a stick? Where were the red lanterns in front of the restaurants and the garish décor inside? While I can’t say I missed the people spitting in the street, I did notice their absence. It seemed spooky -- there weren’t many people walking around. So I got a taxi and came back to my hotel, feeling relieved as we returned to more typical Chinese street life in a few kilometers.
And I can go on and on. Beijing is one of my favorite cities, with its grandeur and history and contradictions. Photos will appear on the CC website soon.
Cheers,
Kathryn
See more photos from the Forbidden City
