Touring Beijing Part Two
Trip Start
Aug 17, 2008
1
4
15
Trip End
Sep 24, 2008
Beijing,
China
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Darkness, misting weather, and a feral cat met me as I left the apartment building. Exhausted, I navigated my way through the streets of Beijing. Arriving at the pre-arranged meeting place, I got nervous as 6:30 came and went. Several taxi drivers tried to convince me to varying degrees of success that they were in fact my driver, their machinations only foiled when they didn't know where to go after I got in their cars. Finally I decided to wake up Adam to call the driver named Meng, who only speaks Chinese. Meng was still in bed and very upset. Then it dawned on Adam. Beijing shouldn't be dark at 6:30 in the morning. In fact, it was only 3:30. The time on the alarm clock was wrong. Befuddled, I went back home and straight into bed.
Sure enough, when 6:30 actually came and went, I was already in Meng's car on my way to the Wall. We rode in the car in largely silence, occasionally interrupted with aborted attempts at communication. So instead I stared blankly at the endless fields of unknown crops and distant mountains on the hazy horizon. I noticed all of the lampposts that lined the streets were solar powered, an energy saving feat not yet accomplished in the U.S. In fact, China saves energy in many facets of life in simple, achievable ways. For example, Adam and Rachael's apartment uses motion-sensor lights and most toilets offer two flush settings to conserve water. These amenities do not derive from any environmentalist urge, but instead out of economic necessity. There is no reason why we cannot or should not do the same.
I arrived at the Wall just as the ticket booth employees lazily opened shop. I opted to climb the stairs that led up the mountain instead of taking the offered gondola ride. It was time to show Mao I was a man. Out of shape and breathing heavily, I was both wet from the misting weather and hot from the physical exertion of climbing hundreds of ancient and very slick steps. Just as I began to wonder the intelligence of my decision to "man up", I glanced my first view of the Wall, snaking through the trees. Ascending a crumbling, spiral staircase, I found myself standing upon the wonder of the world.
And it was wonderful for two reasons. First, I took advantage of my jetlag to arrive far before the usual cavalry of tour buses and private drivers. The questionable weather also seemed to ward off many would-be visitors. I was, quite literally, alone to absorb the Wall. The accumulating fog and threatening rain also weaved a mystical ambience that only seemed to add to the grandeur of the Wall. I was not visiting a tourist destination, but a piece of history as my 21st century tourist identity faded into the mist with the winding Wall. I could not help but imagine myself a Ming dynasty soldier, vigilantly defending my homeland from invaders as the rain lashed my face. Descending from the Wall both hungry and humbled, I was immediately accosted by the cacophony of rip-off merchants touting their goods. The fantasy shattered and I was once again Jason Stern, tourist of the year 2008.
The next morning I visited the Temple of Heaven. The huge park houses several important buildings the old Emperors used to pray and make sacrifices to heaven. Especially cool was the echo wall. The Chinese calculated certain points within the ovular wall that would create an amplified voice through echoing sounds. The Emperor would stand in these places while conducting rituals.
But I was most fascinated by the Chinese people who frequent the park. Thousands of elderly Chinese congregate in the park everyday to ballroom dance, sing, sword dance, hacky sack, and do tai chi together. Others just come to talk with friends and strangers alike. Between the circles of line dancers, old men hunch over Chinese Chess boards and analyze the next move. My mom would have loved it. I was content standing awkwardly on the outskirts and snapping pictures as inconspicuously as possible, but this didn't stop many Chinese from asking me to join in. To me, it looked like a special festival or celebration. To them, it was part of their everyday routine. And that made it all the more special.
The experience made me think about an essay written by Robert Putnam, "Bowling Alone." Putnam argues Americans increasingly have become more isolated and no longer benefit from strong social connections. In short, Americans bowl alone. Clearly, these elderly Chinese do not suffer from the same isolation (though Adam cautions the same may not apply to younger Chinese struggling to succeed). I am worried, however, that this traditional Chinese way of life may soon be lost to modernization. After all, Putnam identifies the television as the dominant cause for the decline in American social capital. Will China soon tai chi alone? Let's hope not. While we have much to offer the Chinese, in this case I think they might have us beat.
Comments
The adventure continues!
Without the blog it might be hard for you to remember all that you are doing. Keep it up. I am fascinated by what you are doing and how well you write about it.
Much love,
Nana