Beijing, October 1, 2008 - Wednesday

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  Beijing, China
Thursday, February 19, 2009

Waking up at an early hour has never been a problem for me. So this day was no exception. I knew I would at some point in the day feel sleepy, but at some point in the day I feel sleepy even at home during my regular working week. Hence, in that respect, I didn't feel I was subjected to more stress than usual, or that it was more of a discomfort than I'm used to. I just made sure I would wake up early enough to have a breakfast, as I always do, regardless of waking time. That was all.
When I passed by the reception, no one was there and the "Red Lantern House 2" was as quiet as a graveyard. I guess you really had to be up at four in the morning to see that. So I realised that even here people slept sometimes. Unfortunately, the times when they slept here and when I wanted to sleep didn't always coincide.
Anyway, as these were still wee hours of the night, or very early morning, PingPing couldn't come in. "Red Lantern House 2" was closed from inside and without a room key one couldn't enter. So we met outside in the street. In fact, in front of the exit C of the Jishuitan underground station. At this early hour, even the otherwise incredibly crowded Beijing was unusually empty with just a handful people out in the streets, and it lead me to believe that this first train passing through the Jishuitan underground station in the direction of the Tiān'ānmén would for once offer us a comfortable ride. Only a few of us seemed to be crazy enough to get up so early on a day when we could sleep in with impunity.

Beijing 01

And the outlook didn't seem to change as we were passing through the Xīzhímén station and on.
Until we arrived at Fùxīngmén, that is. It was a junction where we were going to change trains. Once we got out of the one we had first boarded, I realised the extent of my delusion. It was still dark outside. Everybody with clear conscience should have been sleeping an innocent sleep right then. All the more so as even officially the week-long vacation marking the National Day was finally starting. And yet, the Chinese seemed to be bent on breaking their own records of number of people per area unit at the time of the day - or night - when only boozers and tramps should legitimately be found outdoors. Unmistakeably, they were all headed the same way as PingPing and I were.
Authorities knew that, as well. So for some inexplicable reason, the crowd was not permitted to get out at Tiān'ānmén Xi. Whichever grounds they closed up the Tiān'ānmén Xi exits on, it was obviously a temporary measure meant to bring some kind of additional order to entire event. Or additional security. Which, frankly, made no sense to me. For, once outside on the wrong side of the Tiān'ānmén, at Tiān'ānmén Dong, this entire crowd started to frantically push and jostle towards the square, everyone seeking to get themselves the best possible spot to watch the ceremony from.
Back at Xīzhímén I had thought we would be early. Now, I realised we were basically too late. Not that the flag had been hoisted yet.

Beijing 02 (photo by Guo Xiao Ping)

It had not. We still had some minutes until sun-up to go. But the best positions had long been taken. Those of us who had just arrived at Tiān'ānmén were the sleepyheads. The lazy ones. Or maybe those whose fervour for the party didn't match the significance of the occasion. Either way, thousands upon thousands had a better view than us.
Tiān'ānmén Square was in its largest part cordoned off by the police and army, so that they could parade up and down unobstructed during the ceremony. The best places to view the whole thing were by far on a raised platform, or stands, right in front of the Tiān'ānmén itself. The gate, I mean. I suspect those had gone off to the dignitaries and moneymen. Probably the same characters who were occupying the best seats in "the Egg" during those bank-breaking operas and concerts. Those of us who were paying forty yuan in the Egg were now again at the margins, hoping that our digital cameras would be reliable enough to capture through their lenses what our eyes wouldn't be able to really make out. And then we'd later hopefully see on pictures what would elude us now.
The mood was festive and the crowd generally in good humour. Evidently, this was a big occasion in everybody's mind and I didn't notice one dour face there. In spite of the early hour which was ideal for making people crusty if they are not in bed. The police was there, the army was there, but there was not a single incident. This was a benign, orderly and friendly crowd that only waited for their flag to go up and that was all.
From the point where we were, that flag was hardly visible.

Beijing 03 (photo by Guo Xiao Ping)

It was easier to follow the course of events by the dynamics of the murmur and ebbs and tides of excitement that spread through the crowd in direct response to events on the square than by what I could see with my own eyes. So when we felt that the tension and excitement were reaching their peak, I knew that the flag was nearing the top of the mast. When it was eventually followed by an enthusiastic round of applause, it was an obvious sign the flag was finally up there. And that's when I was at last able to see it myself, looking the colour of dried blood in the dim light of dawn, against the still grey sky.
"So, that's it?" I turned to PingPing and asked what was to be more like a rhetorical question.
"I think so," she said.
Except that it was not. We were about to start seeking ways out of the crowd and give it a thought as to where we would go next now that nothing was open to public yet, when a collective gasp of surprise and another round of an even more frenetic applause filled the air. Almost simultaneously, like on a cue from a party unit leader conducting a well-rehearsed routine, everyone produced their digital cameras and started taking pictures like it was the end of the world. Because from somewhere on the square, a big flight of birds was flapping up into the sky, into the slowly growing sunlight. I saw the birds. However, I was both too far and the light was still too dim, so I couldn't make out which birds they had exactly released. Maybe pigeons. They often release pigeons on such occasions.

Beijing 04

But then again, maybe those were swallows. For some reason, at least in my mind, I associated China with swallows, even if they were regular in my country, too. And of course, maybe those birds were neither pigeons nor swallows.
In any case, whatever they were, that was the end of the event. The crowd loosened and started showing signs of dispersing. Which in Tiān'ānmén Square on the National Day morning at the time of hoisting the flag is much easier said than done. You'd say that the Tiān'ānmén Square is huge so you can easily go any place you want. And it is huge. Even for Chinese standards, they don't lack space there. But it still didn't mean you could go any place you wanted. Without any visible explanation, army and police blocked off a lot of it and we didn't have much choice left but to go back in the direction of Tiān'ānmén Dong. Which truth to say, wouldn't have necessarily been our first option. Well, options are another concept which in China gets occasionally redefined. To which extent, depends on circumstances.
I don't know how many people were there on the Tiān'ānmén Square. Tens of thousands for sure. Whether it swelled into any of the hundreds, it was impossible for me to tell. My vantage point there wasn't exactly the VIP one. But when PingPing and I got started towards Tiān'ānmén Dong and out of the crowd, it certainly felt as if we were just two people among one or two hundred thousand that had gathered there. The human mass all around us seemed vast, almost endless.

Beijing 05 (photo by Guo Xiao Ping)

And there seemed to be no difference whether you should stay and wait for the mass to thin down or try to leave the place as soon as you could. They were just all over you. Moving, but at a leisurely pace, with no hurry. Probably something that two people like PingPing and I found the most unnerving. So we opted for some fast slalom among people wherever the space to pass through opened up, even at a cost of an occasional push and shove. I felt a bit guilty for being impolite from time to time, but in China where you simply always have crowd around, whichever way you turn, they don't make so much fuss about it as they do in some other parts of the world. Of course, it didn't automatically bestow an amnesty on me. It just spoke more about the good nature of the Chinese in general.
But after a while we did get an impression that our tactics had paid off. Gradually the space between people widened and it grew easier to pass through. By the time we found ourselves at the intersection between Dongchang'an Jiē and Wángfǔjǐng Dàjiē, it started to look like early morning again. In the face of the rising sun that had just crept up above the Bĕijīng skyline, with all the high-rises tainted touch of pink, we saw one of the most famous Bĕijīng shopping districts like most of people very seldom see it. Unless they are street cleaners or delivery hands. It was empty.
Wángfǔjǐng allegedly means the Well of the Prince's Mansion in Chinese. As the saying goes, there were once two high-quality water wells in two back lanes just off the Wángfǔjǐng.

Beijing 06

Over the course of time they stopped being in use, but in return they inspired the name of the street. Maybe they were paved over, and maybe they just dried up. But if the water dried up then, the commerce swells and flourishes there now, turning Wángfǔjǐng into one of the Bĕijīng's most famous shopping streets.
I did plan to pay a visit to Wángfǔjǐng one day. I was not sure yet when exactly, but even if I had no intention to do any shopping, I thought it too had in its own way become one of Bĕijīng's landmarks. So it was on my list. I just didn't expect it to be at a time before any shops were open and when hardly any people were there. Being in a pair, PingPing and I constituted a majority on almost every spot of this pedestrians-only street. In a way, it was even exciting to see Wángfǔjǐng Dàjiē at its less than usual, but then again, if you're the only person there, such an excitement usually wears off pretty soon. Hence PingPing and I walked through it and went on north.
And that brought us, pretty unexpectedly, to the St. Joseph's Church which in Chinese is called Dōng Táng. I'm not entirely sure this is a literal translation. Something tells me that should one try to literally translate this Dōng Táng thing back into English, they would end up with a pretty surprising outcome, and old Joseph would probably fall by the wayside along the way.
Anyway, the St. Joseph's, also known as the East Cathedral, has been there for quite a long time, longer than some famous churches of Europe, now that we speak of it.

Beijing 07

But it underwent an occasional face-lift, usually as a consequence of some natural or less than natural destruction, depending on circumstances. However, having survived through earthquakes, fires, rebellions and communism, it now stood at the end of Wángfǔjǐng Dàjiē in its new glory. And in a quirky twist of fate, cocking a small snook at the regime, it was now open. Precisely on the day when China celebrated the anniversary of the founding of its communist - and godless - state, precisely on the morning when hoisting the flag was bigger event than on any other first of the month, a holy mass was held inside. Of course, the size of attendance was not even a patch on a patch on the Tiān'ānmén mass spectacle. When PingPing and I entered the church, as I was curious about its interior, the people sitting in the pews more resembled a handful of strays gathered by chance than anything else. But coming here so early in the morning, and not being over there on the Tiān'ānmén Square, or at least in bed, in my mind made a statement. I can't say it took courage as I have no idea if it did or not. But I'd at least be willing to bet that all of those people in St. Joseph's would any day rather swear by Jesus' than Mao's name.
By the time we passed the Church, our plan as to what to do next had gradually taken some form and we decided that until we got tired, we might spend some time in Bĕihăi Gōngyuán, or Bĕihăi Park. So after a while we turned left, which in this case meant west, and found ourselves on Jǐngshān Qianjiē, the street that lay between Jǐngshān Gōngyuán, i.e.

Beijing 08

Jǐngshān Park and the Forbidden City. On one side there was the moat around the Forbidden City along which stretched a narrow walkway, and on the other there was a hill inside the Jǐngshān Gōngyuán made of soil excavated during construction of the palace moat.
We decided to walk along the moat. In the still pale and hazy sunshine of early morning, even if with probably more people there than usual at this time of day, the water in the moat rendered the whole setting languid and soothing. As water usually does. We took our time. The sun did, so why wouldn't we?
And from there on, Bĕihăi Gōngyuán is really just across the street.
Bĕihăi Gōngyuán, or North Lake Park in Chinese, was another place PingPing could enter free of charge, by just showing some sort of ID. I think it was the same one that admitted her to the Summer Palace. It looked to me as if this ID covered most of those most popular spots in Bĕijīng and many locals seemed to possess it.
Bĕihăi Park most certainly belonged among those popular spots. Not being built in a short dash of landscaping and architectural inspiration, but rather through the span of five dynasties, most of the park is actually no park at all. As its name may perhaps suggest, it is rather a lake area. The portion of the solid ground inside the park is comparably tiny. Less than half of it, as it would seem. The glory here obviously belonged to the water. We entered through the South Gate and immediately found ourselves by the lake, its surface to a large extent covered with huge lotus leaves.

Beijing 09

Of course, the sight that easily and unabashedly dominated this spot was a white pagoda, the symbol of the park, standing out on the top of the Qionghua Islet or Jade Flower Islet, an earth mound that was allegedly an artificial creation - same as everything around - from the heaped material scooped out when they excavated the lake. This pagoda was built in 1651 for a visit by Dalai Lama and now, three and a half centuries later, it was still proudly there.
In order to get to the pagoda, one needs to cross the Yong'an Bridge or the Bridge of Everlasting Peace. That would have been a logical thing to do. But PingPing and I had a feeling our gears throttled back somewhat, so instead we decided to find an empty spot on a bench and take it easier. The day was getting ever warmer, which in turn made us languid. Getting up at four in the morning wasn't exactly a recipe for a sprightly rest of the day. And it showed. For the first time since my arrival in Bĕijīng, both of us felt that our feet slowed us down.
In addition to all that, I had an appointment with Maggie who insisted on taking me to lunch one day. As this was a national holiday anyway, it was as good a day as any. And for her probably better than any. So PingPing and I decided to just pass through the park today and leave by way of the North Gate, and then leave the rest for some other time.
"Tomorrow we could go to the Bĕijīng Opera," she suggested.
"That's a good idea," I agreed. "But the real one. Not like what we saw yesterday."
"I'll check on Internet where best we can go.

Beijing 10

Leave it to me."
When drowsiness ebbed a bit from us, we left the bench and headed north. The park area was filling with people and Chinese geezers were in full swing, just like everywhere else all over the city. Some played games, some practiced tai chi, some just strolled along the lake shore. There were families and kids. Friends and couples, too. Boats started emerging on the lake, and snacks and drinks were on sale on the solid ground. People enjoyed their holiday.
PingPing and I left the park and continued north on foot. The fact that we didn't feel like walking at the moment didn't mean we would take a taxi or an underground train. Even if tired as we were, we were above that. So it did take us a while to finally reach "Red Lantern House 2". But we got there all right, glad that we had chalked up some more mileage on foot.
I had an hour inside the "Red Lantern House 2" until Maggie's arrival. It was more than enough for me to recover significantly. So when she showed up, I felt quite buoyant again. She asked me what it had been like on the ceremony.
"Crowded," I said and she laughed.
"Did you eat something?" I asked her.
"Not yet."
"So shall we go to eat right away?"
"Yes, we can."
"Where do we go?"
"I know a restaurant you might like," she said. "It's a vegetarian-only. They prepare food as if it is out of meat, except there is no meat. Do you want to go there?"
"Why not? You've been there before?"
"Yes. I take friends and business partners there sometimes."
"Then let's go."
"How do we go there?" she asked.
"I don't know.

Beijing 11

Where is it?"
It turned out it was just south of the Tiān'ānmén Square. As it seemed, you couldn't miss the Tiān'ānmén Square no matter where you wanted to go. Even in such a huge city as Bĕijīng.
"Shall we take a taxi?" Maggie suggested.
She claimed she took the underground very seldom. Almost never. Her reasons were "smells" of the crowd - a rather interesting one - and a poor sense of orientation. As for those smells, I didn't know what to say. Maybe her nose was keener than mine. I mean, when you enter the Bĕijīng subway, there is no way how you can have a first-class ride like on an intercity train and avoid being squeezed like a sardine at least sometimes. But then again, the Bĕijīng crowd is reasonably clean. I couldn't remember an occasion when I was dying for some fresh air just because someone had not washed since they had invented water taps. Not in Bĕijīng. Not yet.
And as for orientation, or lack of it, well, that was highly individual. If she said she didn't know her directions, who was I to claim otherwise?
But I felt guilty for squandering money on taxi rides when you could reach your destination much cheaper and equally comfortably. I knew she was rich. And I know money shouldn't be worshipped. But it should be respected. So I asked:
"Are there any other ways to get there than taxi?"
"We can walk," she smiled.
"There?"
In fact, it would be another hour to get there and I had already generously met my norm for the day.
"Yes."
Well, that was a challenge, but I wouldn't show I might not up to it.

Beijing 12

So I tried to twist the story, saying:
"Aren't you hungry? If we go there on foot, it'll be a long time until you can eat."
"I'll be all right," she assured me.
"Sure?"
"Yes."
And so we walked. She for the first time today, and I basically double-backed. She was asking me about my day so far, about things I was yet planning to see and I did my best to keep the conversation going. Which - even if she claimed she was not much of a talker - went pretty smoothly with her. Of course, as a true business lady, she toted her mobile phone from time to time along the way, answering calls which even on the day when they were not supposed to work demanded her attention.
And what caught my attention was the fact that all the shops were open. I told her that.
"Of course, they are," she said, not quite getting what I was aiming at.
"But isn't this a day off in China?"
"Yes, it is."
"So what kind of a day off is it when all the shops are open?"
"Of course, they are open. What else should they do?"
"In Europe if it's a day off, then it's a day off for everybody."
"Really?!" she seemed genuinely surprised. "Then, where can people go shopping?"
"Shopping? On a day off?" now I was a bit confused.
"Yes."
"You don't go shopping on a day off. It's a... well... day off."
"What kind of a day off is it when you can't go shopping?"
I laughed. I didn't know if her question was a result of this twisted modern-day consumerist culture which was spreading like a disease all over the world or of a simple fact that, regardless of what officials in China claimed, this country was never really a workers' country.

Beijing 13

Either way, we obviously held entirely opposite views.
"Don't you think that those people working in those shops deserve having a day off same as you?"
"But these are the best days for the business!"
"Ah! I see," I left it there. We now both knew what the other one thought. There was no need for me to press on. In any case, millions of shop assistants and vendors all over China didn't belong to "millions who were on the move" right now. That much about the equality.
It took us about an hour of a relatively brisk walk to reach the restaurant she had in mind. Maggie was in quite a good shape, much better than you'd guess about someone whose work kept her in the office entire day, every day. So she was no drag at all. The restaurant itself was located in a big house, sporting two huge red lanterns, as is expected of any building aiming to look Chinese. Inside, I realised that you needed to be at least a solid middle class if you didn't want to burn your wallet. It was pretty obvious that people on a tight budget didn't belong in here. And "in here" was "Gong Delin" restaurant.
As soon as we found a table, a waiter brought us a leather-bound menu with hard, plasticised leaves, each one sporting colourful, luxurious photograph of one or two dishes on offer. It was all in Chinese, but Maggie told me:
"Choose what you'd like to eat."
"It's all in Chinese," I protested.
"But you have all the pictures."
And pictures were the pictures of steaks, chicken, duck, grilled meat, just name it.
"Are you sure they're all vegetarian?" they looked incredible, so I thought I had every right to be suspicious.
"Yes.

Beijing 14

I've been here before. They don't prepare meet dishes here."
Eventually, I took her word for it. She also told me to pick anything I want, even if it should turn out later our order was more than we could handle. All we wouldn't eat now could be packed and taken out. I wondered what Mei would make of it.
And so we ended up ordering ourselves three most incredible vegetarian meals. Seeing our order on the table some time later, I was for the first time in my life thinking that cooking might be a form of art. Having before my eyes some of the most unbelievably looking - and gorgeously tasting - vegetarian dishes that I had ever seen, I had to admit that whoever had concocted them first was an artist.
Just as we both guessed, we had ordered way more than we could eat. So we had it packed and ready to take out. Maggie insisted that she would pay. Besides, this was China and by now I understood that it would entail a loss of face on the part of your Chinese host if the meal wasn't their treat. So I didn't complain much. She flashed and brandished her golden credit card and the bill was settled. I am sure her budget never noticed this particular item at the end of the monthly balance sheet.
Somehow we realised it would be too early to part and we came to the conclusion that there was no reason not to spend the afternoon together. And as she was obviously a different type than PingPing, her spot of choice was the inner courtyard of "Red Lantern House 2". I didn't mind.
"How do we go back there?" I asked.
"On foot?" she winked.
"On foot it is!"
And so it was one hour more on foot. Everything considered, it was a pretty healthy life. Vegetarian food and a lot of walking. There are worse ways to spend your days, I guess.
When later that day Maggie was about to go, she said:
"I can't meet you tomorrow."
"No problem," I answered. "Thank you for any time you can set aside for me."
"But I'd like to meet you the day after tomorrow if it's OK with you."
"I'd be glad."
"May I bring my daughter along? She'd like to meet you. Also, she might speak some English."
Of course, I agreed and that was our deal for the day after tomorrow.
When Maggie left, by taxi, of course, I managed to grab a seat in front of the PC in the "Red Lantern House 2". I decided to check my mails now that the opportunity presented itself unexpectedly. Some of them were interesting. Naprisca asked me if I could buy her a cowboy hat. I answered I would, should I find one. And then there was a message from Nick Bonner of the "Koryo Tours". He said:
"Thanks for the email. We can probably lend you a shirt and tie for the Mausoleum. It is perhaps among the most important visits where it is worth not upsetting the authorities as it is our Korean guides who bear the brunt of any complaints. Hope that is OK with you. Look forward to meeting you, Nick."
Now, I was amused again. It was good to know that this issue wouldn't grow into an unexpected sticking point somewhere in the middle of Pyongyang. But it sure was already giving a peculiar spin to the second part of my trip. Even before it began.

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