Beijing, September 27, 2008, Saturday

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  Beijing, China
Saturday, December 6, 2008

I set my alarm o'clock at seven in the morning. I don't know how much longer I would've slept had it not been for it, but knowing myself, maybe not much longer. The night before in the "Red Lantern House 2" had been quite noisy, almost like on a railway station. Or like when someone throws a bash. Maybe someone had. Who would know. Friendships are being made rather easy in places like this and it wasn't unknown that whenever someone was about to move on or head back home, it was considered a good occasion for everyone to have some fun. But I had been so tired that in face of all that I had fallen asleep in shortest order.
This morning was much quieter. The bunch of noisy guests from the night before was nowhere in sight. They were all probably still in their rooms sleeping. In the roofed part of the inner courtyard, the one where reception was, except for two or three young people working at and around the reception, there was no one around. Just me. I ordered myself a breakfast

01 Beijing

. Remembering my previous stay in China, I wanted again to have my breakfasts in cheap, and yet very good street eateries, just as I had two and a half years before in the Guanxi province. Once I got myself familiar with the surroundings, of course. But on this first morning I knew next to nothing about the area I was in, with the sole exception of the fact that the street outside was full of music shops. Which, of course, didn't help much as far as my breakfast went. So I decided to have breakfast in the hotel on my first morning here, and later I'd see.
I ordered what according to the menu was called European breakfast. It may have been European, but its price was at world level. Particularly when you know that this was a budget accommodation. Well, I had counted with it, so I guess it didn't matter much after all. Only after I had ordered and started to eat, first guests began to show up. The life here, at least when tourists were concerned, was obviously a late and slow starter.
Nearest underground station, Jishuitan, was some fifteen minutes of fast walk away. On my way there I sought to see if there was any place where I could drop by for breakfast in the mornings to come. On my first passage I didn't really notice any to get emotionally attached to. But just as usual, there was no shortage of people in the street. And also, what all of us westerners had long ascertained, one look at the Chinese girls attested to the fact that the fashion in China had come a long way since the time of Mao

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. It was quite clear that Beijing had in every respect caught up with any other city of the western world.
As I expected, reaching the Tiān'ānmén West underground station on time, or Tiān'ānmén Xi to be precise, was no problem whatsoever. As a matter of fact, it seemed to be more of a problem for PingPing as she was the one to be late. What I didn't expect was the luggage check at the entrance in the station, immediately before the tickets check. I assumed it was the legacy from the Olympic Games. It was a bit of a hassle, but nothing serious. If it could guarantee us all a safe ride, then I was all for it.
The morning was warm and sunny. In Beijing way, of course. Waiting for PingPing on Xichang'an Jie, right by the station exit, I noticed a large number of policemen. Or whatever they were. It was difficult to know since they all looked like police to me, and on the other hand, not all of them had same uniforms. Going by what I was used to in Europe, where police always have same uniforms, unless they are plainclothes, that is, this was confusing. But in any case, whatever they were, in blue, green or brown-grey uniforms, there were as many of them as you please. Whereas some of them merely stood around, lest no one would forget this was still a communist country - of whatever strain - some of them had entirely practical roles, like traffic regulation, for example

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. Intersections where they were found were so far the only spots where I saw all traffic participants, both pedestrians and drivers, observe the traffic rules. It obviously took a double enforcement in the form of both traffic lights and ear-piercing whistles. Well, whatever it took, it worked here.
PingPing was some ten minutes late.
"I am sorry," she moaned.
"No problem," I said. "We've got a whole day ahead of us."
Maybe three hundred metres away from there, on the right-hand side there was the Tiān'ānmén, the largest square in the world, and on the left-hand side the Forbidden City. I guess it was fitting that I was going to start my acquainting with Beijing right there.
If someone may have not noticed there is a lot of people in China, they should be brought there, right at that spot, so that they lose all illusions and see the light. Back where I come from, there are settlements which proudly carry the title of a town and as such claim a spot on the map with a cocky self-confidence, and yet most certainly couldn't remotely fill up this vast open space with all of their population to the extent the Chinese with some modest help of us foreign tourists did this morning. And fortunately, PingPing and I arrived rather early

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. I could only think what would be going on there in two or three hours.
We didn't plan to wait and see with our own eyes. Instead, in short order we joined the long, snaking crowd flow, crossed the moat in front of the entrance gate by way of one of arched, stony bridges and under the watchful eye of several policemen - or just guards, who could ever be quite certain - passed through.
And the entrance was the massive Tiān'ānmén, which translates as the Gate of Heavenly Peace and, sporting the old Mao's king-size portrait since his death in 1976 above one of the entrance arches, probably features as the People's Republic of China's trademark edifice. Having witnessed so many historical events that took place on the Tiān'ānmén Square, some of them reverberating throughout the world, the Gate has great political significance. Not that difficult to guess, the Square itself got its name after the gate.
Tiān'ānmén was, of course, built a long time ago, in 1417. Destroyed by fire twice, it was rebuilt in 1651, but it is still there today, sturdy and strong, having in the meantime seen two dynasties off, the Ming and the Qing. The chances are, the current regime's outlook, next to the Tiān'ānmén at least, won't be any better.

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Technically, and strictly speaking, we were not in the Forbidden City yet. Even if some sources say the Tiān'ānmén is the entrance to the Forbidden City. It's not. We still had some way to go. But the day was young, we had some long hours ahead of us, so there was absolutely no need to trip over our own feet and rush headlong anywhere. So right at the start we got stuck at the inner side of Tiān'ānmén and decided to climb it for the view of its namesake, world-famous square across the Xichang'an Jie.
China is nominally a socialist country, but whoever has ever set their foot on Chinese soil knows the Chinese had a crash course in capitalism, passed it with flying colours and in a record time worked out all the tricks as to how to make money. So the fact that PingPing and I would just a bit farther on pay the entrance to the Forbidden City didn't prevent anyone from charging us another ticket to climb up to the Tiān'ānmén's viewing platform. Everyone knew that many tourists would cash out.
As it seemed, Olympic Games had left a pile of luggage check scanners in their wake. Probably in every spot where a crowd could possibly show up, and in Beijing it meant virtually everywhere. So before the climb onto the Tiān'ānmén, we had had to give our luggage away for keeping, and then what we had on us and in our hands was thoroughly checked to boot

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. And only then we could go on up.
And from up there we had a marvellous view at the Tiān'ānmén Square. Many surrounding buildings, including the Tiān'ānmén itself, flew numerous red flags, announcing the upcoming national holiday and the week off many people would have. However, fully in line with the American-style cutthroat capitalism as was obviously prevalent u China, and in clear departure from the ever fading socialist values, even if it was Saturday today, and Sunday tomorrow, both days would be working days.
"That's because all next week is free so that people don't lose too much of their work," PingPing explained.
"Is that right?" I was surprised. "Back in Europe, no one may take your weekend away from you, no matter what."
"It used to be here like that before. But they changed it all this year."
So much about the workers' rights. The rights of workers probably still had a prominent role and featured as one of the load-bearing pillars of the Chinese society in those red-bound books printed by the Party. But out in the street and in real life, Its Divinity the Profit obviously treated workers and their rights as just yet another doormat to wipe the feet on, the feet which trampled the weaker and the slower

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. Same as everywhere else where capitalism is given free rein and full freedom.
After the view at the square and monumental edifices on and around it, like China National Museum, Monument to the People's Heroes, Chairman Mao Memorial Hall and Great Hall of the People, approximately from the spot where comrade Chairman had proclaimed the people's Republic in 1949, we again climbed downstairs, left the Tiān'ānmén to the crowd swelling outside, and headed on to the Forbidden City. We collected our backpacks, which had to be paid for, of course, and found ourselves in front of the Duan Gate. Another gate which was not the Forbidden City yet, probably the most famous by the fact that western allies during the suppression of the Boxer Rebellion at the beginning of the last century had with commendable concern stripped it of everything valuable and carted it off for unlimited custody.
And only then did we reach Wŭ Mén, the Meridian Gate, the real entrance to the Forbidden City. What we had gone through before was "only" the Imperial City. Of course, new tickets were bought here. So we went to the window and bought them. At the same time, against a deposit, one could hire there a recorded voice guide on at least two dozen languages, among them such prominent and widely-spoken ones as Slovenian and Lithuanian. Out of sheer curiosity I checked if there was Croatian. There wasn't

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. The only explanation I had was that Slovenia and Lithuania were European Union members and Croatia wasn't.
However, what was more interesting to me in terms of curiosity were two yellow horizontal lines at the way in. Children below 1.2 metres in height could enter free of charge. And those two lines were the 1.2 metre mark. I'd never seen something like that before.
"That's normal in China," PingPing said.
"Really?" it was another thing entirely peculiar to China. I added:
"It would mean that they are taxing taller kids."
"You don't have such things?"
"No. There are places where kids are admitted free of charge, but below certain age, not certain height."
Now it was PingPing's turn to wonder:
"Isn't this simpler?"
I didn't know what to say. Maybe I said nothing. Either way, we moved on towards the entrance. There are four gates to the Forbidden City, whereby Meridian Gate is the main and the south-side one. It has five entrances, each of which used to allow entry to people with certain rank

09 Beijing

. The entrance in the middle was reserved for the emperor. However, there were some exceptions to this rule. The empress had the right to enter through it on her wedding day, which means once in her lifetime, and the top three students who passed the Final Imperial Examination were entitled to leave the palace via this central entrance. Also, once and never again. Other four entrances were used by ministers.
No one could go in through the Imperial Gate. So just like everyone else, we used the ministerial one and emerged onto a large square, ripped by a meandering river of another poetic name, i.e. Inner Golden Water River, crossed by five exquisitely carved, simple but elegant bridges, commonly called Golden Water Bridges. Back in the imperial days of the Forbidden City, only emperors could cross the river by way of the middle bridge, which is the longest and widest. The other four were for government officials and imperial clansmen to pass. Mister Emperor obviously imposed so many don'ts on and permitted so few dos to the people living inside the Forbidden City complex. Allegedly, without emperor's permission one couldn't go out anywhere from within the walls. Hence the name Forbidden City. But today, at least at the bridges, there were no restrictions and everyone could use any bridge they pleased.
We decided to get a bit sidetracked, so after we had been taking pictures here like it was going out of style, we didn't follow the rest of the increasing gang of tourists, but rather peeked through the Xihe Mén, the Gate of Amiability, on the left-hand side, and found ourselves in a park

10 Beijing

. And there, right by the wall, a military unit of maybe fifteen or twenty soldiers had their drill, running up and down on their officer's orders, jumped around and with battle cries simulated martial arts technique, all that in full military fatigues. And all under the watchful eye of yet another mainly idle guard, this one dressed in sky blue. But when I tried to take a picture, the guard suddenly sensed a call to duty and with a stern face expression forbade me that in no uncertain terms. The most interesting of all was that PingPing was honestly astonished. If as a Chinese she had no idea why the guard would ever forbid me taking picture of those training soldiers, then I could with a certainty assume that the guard acted on a premise that everything was prohibited if not specifically allowed. As is often the case in communist societies. And who better to inflate your ego and exercise your authority on than an uninformed foreigner.
Well, then. And what now? We moved on and shortly found the Hall of Military Prowess or Wŭjīng Diàn. This Wŭjīng Diàn was the first of museums within the Forbidden City, having on display paintings and calligraphy from the Ming Dynasty period.
And that period officially run from 1368 to 1644 when the Ming, the last dynasty in China ruled by ethnic Han, the main Chinese ethnic group, was irrevocably deposed by the Qing from Manchuria

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. However, while up there in the saddle, they pulled off quite a few feats and created some things as yet unrivalled anywhere else in the world. A dude named Yongle, nowadays widely deemed the greatest Ming emperor and one of the greatest of all Chinese emperors, decided in 1403 to move the imperial capital from Nanjing, i.e. Southern Capital, to Beijing, or the Northern Capital. Thanks to him, and thanks to the Ming Dynasty, I was now right where I was. It was the old Yongle that had set afoot a construction on such a grand scale, creating the Imperial City and the Forbidden City at its core along the way. The Ming guys also built the greatest part of the Great Wall as we know it today. Only a stable state and orderly government could achieve that.
When we came out of the Hall of Military Prowess, we returned towards the Xihe Mén, passing again the same military unit. Unfortunately, this time they were farther off and what they were doing was less interesting than before. The guard was still in his place. This time around, asking no one, I just stopped and shot my snap. And then we returned to those five bridges, crossed the Inner Golden Water River and arrived at the Gate of Supreme Harmony, or Tàihé Mén.
Guarded by a pair of bronze lions, that particular gate is the main entrance to the grand Outer Court. And in the Outer Court proudly stood the Hall of Supreme Harmony, or Tàihé Diàn, the grandest of all the halls in the palace and the largest surviving wooden structure in China

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. Passing through the Tàihé Mén, PingPing warned me:
"Don't step on the threshold beam!"
"Why?" I asked. Quite honestly, I think I was just about to do it.
"You just don't do it."
Now that it was so, I had to abide by it. Had she not warned me, I would've probably paid no attention. Maybe sometimes I would've stepped on, and sometimes not, and in general I'd have no idea if I had done it or not. This way, I carefully avoided it and, now curious, couldn't help checking what others did.
Only the smallest kids stepped on it. And not all of them.
Traditionally, the Forbidden City is divided into two parts. The Outer Court or Front Court, which is the section to the south, was used for ceremonial purposes. The Inner Court or Back Palace, lying further behind to the north, was the residence of the Emperor and his family, and was used for day-to-day affairs of state. This Outer Court, where we stood now, boasted of a white marble terrace and on top of that terrace stood three halls, probably the focus of entire palace complex. And the focus of tourists' interest. The biggest one of them was this Tàihé Diàn.
It was originally erected at the very beginning of the Forbidden City construction, but was burnt down in later years

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. The present-day hall was rebuilt some three centuries later during the Qing Dynasty rule. Throughout all this time, the hall was used to hold ceremonies on grand occasions, like crowning of the emperors, their birthdays and weddings, also when the generals were dispatched to battles, when the Winter Solstice was marked, the Spring Festival held and so on.
With three stairways leading up to it, the middle one with its elaborate stone carvings fenced off and off bounds to tourists, with numerous bronze incense burners, then also a pair of bronze cranes and a pair of tortoises suggesting longevity, as well as myriads of stone dragon heads which are just elaborately carved drainage outlets, the Hall of Supreme Harmony is quite a sight to see. Probably everyone knew that, so the tourists flocked around it, taking photos, elbowing for the photo space and basically and inevitably being in each other's way. But I suppose that's part of the charm to being a tourist. You need to enjoy being pushed around every now and then, having the camera view blocked more often than you'd ever want and giving and receiving more "sorries" than on any other occasion. The immediate vicinity to the Hall of Supreme Harmony was the poster child to all the fun a tourist can have on a preposterously crowded spot.
As the symbol of imperial power, the Tàihé Diàn has a quite luxurious interior. You can't go inside and rightly so

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. Seeing the crowd outside, it's not difficult to imagine it would simply trample over everything there. So the authorities wisely decided to keep it at bay. By and large, just to get to the space from where you could see what's inside entailed fighting the mob as if free lunch was distributed. Or like in front rows on a rock concert as I used to be in my teenage days. And then once you finally get it, it seems as if you have only a few seconds before you are swept away by the tide of those others arriving and sharing the same zest and curiosity.
Anyway, once your eyes get used a little to the deep shadow inside, you notice that the interior is dominated by a golden throne resting on a platform, with an elegant wall screen behind and three gilded columns on each side. In front of the throne, there are assorted mythical beasts and birds, as well as more incense burners. The floor is paved with golden bricks not really made of gold. Since in Chinese culture the emperor is the incarnation of dragon, there are dragon designs all around the hall, on the throne, columns, windows and ceilings.
But holding your own against the ever-changing crowd is less than thrill and fun, so PingPing and I moved on very soon. We first came up to the second out of those three halls, the Hall of Central Harmony, that is, or Zhōnghé Diàn, where the emperor took his rest, rehearsed speeches before grand ceremonies in the big hall we had just passed, and received the closest ministers

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. Of course, it too had a throne, for everyone knew the emperor could take a rest and remember his speech only sitting on his throne.
As it was obvious that the Hall of Supreme Harmony took the cake, there were considerably fewer people here, so PingPing and I now knew the worst was behind us. Next one in a row was the Hall of Preserving Harmony, or Băohé Diàn, where the emperor would take a bite every now and then, so they used it for banquets. With a throne, naturally. And that was it as far as harmony halls were concerned.
Having passed them, we arrived at the Qiánqīng Mén, literally the Gate of Heavenly Purity, which is the front door to the Inner Court. And this Inner Court served mainly as the residential area to the emperors, their wives and concubines, and other members of the royal family. Which in other words meant that this was the place where real power lay. So they put two more golden lions, just a wee bit smaller than those guarding the Tàihé Mén, to make sure the gang inside was left undisturbed by troubles and inconveniences. The Chinese believed the lions were the best gate guards around, which would have no trouble frightening any devils away.
As the lions recognised no devils in us, PingPing and I entered without any hassle and found ourselves in front of the Qiánqīng Gōng, i.e

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. Palace of Heavenly Purity, the largest hall in the Inner Court. It was a place where emperors first resided and then handled routine government affairs, holding council with their cabinets, interviewing ministers, foreign ambassadors and envoys and whatever else required their attention. Today, with the emperors and the suite long gone, there's just one more throne there.
Next in line, immediately behind the Qiánqīng Gōng, there was comparatively small Jiāotài Dian or Hall of Union and Peace. This was the place for the empress to hold ceremonies on the Spring Festival, the Winter Solstice and her birthday, receiving tributes from the imperial concubines, the princesses and the princes' wives.
Finally, the last Inner Court building was the Kunning Gōng or the Palace of Earthly Tranquillity, the place where the empress dwelled. I need to admit that by the time we got there I gradually started to feel the case of history saturation. We had already been for two and a half hours in the Imperial City and all those palaces and halls started to look alike. And it was pity, for much as they visually did resemble each other quite a bit, each of them was nevertheless different and carried its own story. After all, a power that had shaped a good deal of eastern world had for centuries resided here and just that was enough for me to have to pay it due respect and attention

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. But brain can absorb only so much, and at that moment I became aware that until I pulled myself a bit together, the best I could do was take pictures of everything I deemed interesting and important, and then, back home, check in peace once again all I had seen.
PingPing suffered from the same thing. And so we didn't shed any tears as we left the Inner Court, going up due north, and entered a garden. Of course, not just any garden, but the Imperial Garden or Yù Huāyuán. Apparently, Imperial Family members, same as PingPing and me, occasionally needed mental and body recreation and this was the place where they had been finding it. There was some really neat landscaping here, complete with walkways, rockeries, pavilions and trees. And with a big bunch of tourists today, who having reached this point seemed to suffer from the same symptoms as PingPing and I, and wouldn't be chased from there.
At the very end of the Imperial Garden we found a pair of bronze elephants with their forelegs like those of a lion, and that was the sign that we had reached the northern end of the Forbidden City and Shénwŭ Mén, or the Gate of Divine Military Genius. For a moment we were tempted to leave, but much as our brain was tired, the reason still clearly told us it would be a shame and a mistake. So for a while longer we just loitered around the garden, dodging other recuperating tourists, and when we had regained some of the concentration, we moved on

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. And in this case it meant the direction of Six Eastern Palaces and a few more halls beyond. Basically, they all now serve as exhibition halls to exhibit some kind of collections. Which in translation meant that we had ourselves a treat of a several consecutive museums up ahead. As it was so, we bravely started grappling with them.
As the exhaustion nevertheless started to gradually take its toll, we were not as systematic as at the beginning and every now and then we would lose our orientation within the Forbidden City. We would more at random stumble upon what we stumbled upon, even if we still had a general idea as to what interested us more and what less. We first came up to the Yihé Xuān or the Hall of Maintaining Harmony which was bursting with Buddhist statues and pagodas made of gold and precious stones. Then it was followed by the Hall of Jewellry, or Zhēnbăo Guăn, whose name clearly let on what was on display there. And which had to be extra paid for. In order to sweeten the deal a bit, the Chinese permitted to use the same ticked for the Well of the Concubine Zhēn. Which you may or may not consider a bonus. Either way, the well was rather tiny and I could imagine that this particular concubine had felt pretty claustrophobic after the Empress Cixi, one of the last Chinese imperial rulers, had had her bundled in. Well, that's how it goes when you fall from favour into disfavour of someone like the Empress

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. Even if, to be fair both to the Empress and true historical events, it's far from certain that it's how it really was. But in any event, the tiny well was there.
Lèshòu Táng followed, or the Hall of Joyful Longevity, with its collection of jade and lapis lazuli things. After that we stumbled upon the Nine Dragon Wall, one of three famous walls of this style in China and one of two in Beijing itself. Naturally, it got its name after nine carved writhing dragons of various colours. They say that the third white dragon has a piece of wood on its belly. The story goes that a carpenter carved it to replace a broken piece of glazed tile there. There was a deadline looming over the entire enterprise and if it was not to be met, all the craftsmen would be punished. Which probably didn't mean anything on the scale of a speeding ticket, but rather something more in line with beheading, I'd say. Anyway, this particular part was incomplete, so the poor sod took the risk of concealing the flaw this way and attempting to cheat the emperor to save everybody's head. Fortunately, the old buzzard didn't discover it and everybody eventually got away with it. Today, obviously, nobody minds any more.
On from there, it looked as if we had seen it all. But we knew we had not. It would've all ended somehow too soon. Right now the whole thing started to gradually feel like an effort, but I knew the Forbidden City would have to be taken off the list in a proper way, for who could know when next I would be in Beijing. And even when I am, I would pick up on where I stopped this time, and not repeat the things I already saw. Particularly not those that don't change. So PingPing and I turned around and headed back north.
That led us to one more of the Six Eastern Palaces, the Zhōngcui Gōng, or the Palace of Accumulated Purity, which today housed a jadeware exhibition. It was then followed by clocks and watches in the Fèngxiàn Diàn, or the Hall for Ancestral Worship. It was once a spot where emperors enshrined memorial tablets for their ancestors. Today the most correct name would probably be the Clock Exhibition Hall with timepieces from all over the world, imported from Europe, America and Japan, manufactured domestically or sent in as gifts to the emperors from everywhere. Of different shapes and styles, some are relatively new, but some were made over two thousands years ago and yet they still work well to this day. Hat off to the production quality of the times when profit was acquired in a less subtle way. However, one of its upsides was that it certainly didn't spare on quality as no one was concerned about the need to sell the similar item to the same customer some time down the road again. In order to keep cash flow healthy and steady, I mean.
After that we saw a museum with Imperial Treasures, and then one with such things like mah-jong sets. But PingPing and I were ever less capable of following what was inside. The Imperial City was simply too big to take in in just one day. And so, after almost seven hours, we decided that we couldn't go on any more, that we were hungry and that it was time to leave.
Right before the exit we saw some rather animated works that drew my attention. I mean, there was some kind of stage being assembled and someone had already carted in a huge bunch of light-show equipment. A concert this evening, maybe?
PingPing wasn't lazy and she asked the nearest guy. A minute later she explained:
"No, it'll be a party for the workers."
"Workers?"
"Those employed in the Forbidden City."
"Ah, I see. On the occasion of the national holiday?"
"Yes. When all the tourists leave."
OK, everything was clear. There was no need of thinking to possibly return here in the evening.
"Do you have an idea where we could eat?" I asked PingPing.
However, it seemed she wasn't all too sure.
"What would you like to eat?" she asked me.
"It's all the same to me."
And it was. Which didn't help her much with the selection, I'd say. It seemed to me she wasn't exactly sure about what could be found around, but as it was still her turf, she led the way.
And quite a bit of the way it was. Walking in search of a place to eat, and in a country which probably more than any other in the world boasts of the variety of its food and number of restaurants and eateries, for some reason we couldn't find anything. At least not something to match what PingPing had in mind. Whatever it was. And so, step by step, and eventually there were very many of them, we arrived all the way at the Xidan underground station, in the heart of one of Beijing's shopping districts. While I can't really say it was obvious by the number of cars, for number of cars was huge everywhere, I can say it was obvious by the number of bicycles. For the first time the number of bicycles in Beijing reminded me of the number of bicycles I had seen in China two years before. I guess it was no chance that in both cases it happened in shopping districts.
Right at the corner between Xichang'an Jie and Xidan Beidajie we found a tower block carrying a quite original name of Xidan Shopping Centre and PingPing said:
"Here we are."
We entered through one door, descended by a stairway to a floor below the street level, and there, among numerous Chinese fast food outlets, chose one, all in green, which PingPing deemed appropriate. I had no idea where she had brought me or what we would eat. I just followed in her tow, mimicking her every action and move like an ape. It eventually resulted in our sitting at a metal U-shaped bar, around something that might even be called an open kitchen. Upper bar surface was in regular intervals punctured by circular holes, and under each of them there was a flat cooker. In no time, a waiter/cook came up to us, bringing two menus on large and thin paper sheets, only in Chinese, of course, and PingPing started placing the order. Soon both of us got ourselves a pot with water which exactly fit into the openings above the cookers and I cottoned up to the procedure. Water was going to boil, and whatever the young waiter was soon bringing us with help of one or two waitresses was to be thrown into that water. There were spices, vegetables, lotus roots, noodles and quite a few more things I had no idea what they were. Other than the two of us, there were only two more girls at the bar, a bit farther off, and it was obvious we were their show of the day. Or I was the show of the day, maybe. According to good old Chinese custom, they never bothered to pretend they didn't look. Well, it was China.
When PingPing gave the go-ahead, we started bundling the stuff from the plates and bowls into pots. Whatever she did, I did. Whatever she tasted, I tasted. I only couldn't say that whatever she liked I also liked. And my chopstick skills really needed some dusting off, too. So much so that PingPing mercifully asked for some to me more familiar cutlery. But on balance, after we had taken both our time and some good rest there, I could say I was not that hungry any more. When we were finally done with the lunch, or maybe it would be better called a dinner, it was almost six. Of course, PingPing paid, much as I tried to foot the bill myself.
"You're the guest," she said and that closed the matter for her.
Back in the street, PingPing said to me:
"If you want, you can go on foot in this direction," and she showed north along the Xidan Beidajie. "It will get you straight to the hotel."
After a long day on foot and exhaustingly slow walk about the Forbidden City, someone else in my stead would rather take the underground. I welcomed an opportunity for some fast walk. I nodded.
"Where do you want to go tomorrow?" she asked.
"How about the Summer Palace?"
"That's a good idea," she said. "Do you want me to pick you up?"
"No need. Just tell me which station to come to, and I'll be there."
If there was no need for her to pick me up this morning, there would be even less of it tomorrow. The Summer Palace was located way up north-west, quite away from where I was staying, and rather near to where she was.
"Do you want us to have breakfast together?"
"It's a deal," I agreed. We said bye to each other, I started up the Xidan Beidajie, and she went down to the Xidan underground station.
Of course, my day didn't quite end with my return to the hotel. I was going to meet Maggie after her work this evening again. I had quite a few friends in China and I knew that unfortunately I wouldn't be able to see them all. I wanted to phone some of them at least. I planned to see some other at least once or twice. And all that in between sightseeing. Two weeks were really too short for everything.
After I had returned I first called Mei. Her working time was such that sometimes she was at work until four, and sometimes until midnight. This week she did the morning shift so after some chat we arranged an appointment for tomorrow evening. I told her I planned to visit the Summer Palace and promised to call her as soon as I was back in the hotel.
"Red Lantern House 2" was much noisier and more crowded this evening than in the morning. I thought I might check my e-mail before Maggie showed up, but only one computer had Internet connection and that one was, naturally, in use. So I just had a seat at one table next to the reception, right by the bridge and fish pond, took something to read and waited for Maggie.
"Would you like to join us?" I heard a women's voice. I didn't even think it had something to do with me, but for some reason I nevertheless raised my head. Over there, at a table near computers, there was a somewhat elderly couple and a blonde guy, long-haired as me, and they all beckoned me. I shut my read and joined them at their table.
"Good evening. I am Damir from Croatia," I introduced myself.
"Good evening and welcome," the lady said. "I am Marie and this is Andy. We are from Scotland."
"I am Peter. From England," the long-haired guy added.
Marie and Andy were just having their dinner and chopsticks in their hands looked much more nimble than those in mine an hour or so before. Peter was just in the company, drinking beer. He offered to buy me one, too.
"Thank you, but I don't drink alcohol."
"None at all?!" Andy raised his eyes from his dinner.
"None at all."
"But beer is no alcohol," he invoked the famous mantra of all beer drinkers and returned to his meal.
"Do you want something else?" Peter offered.
"Thank you. I'm fine."
Of course, all of them travelled somewhere. Marie and Andy would in a day or two start a two-week package trip all over China. Peter was going to Macao after he had come from Japan a day or two before.
"How about you?" Andy asked.
"In fact, I'm on my way to North Korea," I said.
"North Korea?! What makes you want to go there?"
Of course, it was too long a story, so I tried to put it in as few sentences as I possibly could. In any case, I said I wanted to see it before someday it got united with its second part and thus became uninteresting.
"You're right," Andy agreed. "That's the same reason why I said I wanted to visit Cuba. Before it becomes just another Florida."
And so we talked until Maggie finally appeared. I then excused myself and joined her. Both of us again too tired to go out any more, we again sat in the homey atmosphere of the hotel and chatted until she decided it was time for her to leave.
When I was finally alone again, I was ready for bed. And even if, as it seemed to be the rule, "Red Lantern House 2" grew ever noisier, I fell asleep very soon.

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