Wonder Wall
Trip Start
Nov 29, 2008
1
15
16
Trip End
Jan 03, 2009
Beijing,
China
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
"That's the donkey for baby Jesus!"
Ashley's smile spreads from one end of his face to the other. We burst out laughing
Ashley's here! He came up from Shanghai, along with Kevin, Kent and Jay, to spend Christmas in Beijing. They blew in with the Siberian wind on the coldest day of the year, teeth rattling with the shivers. Today it's wamer, and we're going to see the Great Wall of China.
It's an hour and a half drive from Beijing. We didn't want to go to Badaling, the more touristy spot. I've heard it even has a KFC. Instead, we have come to Mutianyu, a bit further away.
The landscape is yellow and dusty in the sun. A small village of grey brick hutongs is clustered at the bottom of a mountain, snug in its crook.
Kent is the first to see it.
"That's the Great Wall!"
My heart jumps. There it is, crowning the mountains over the tiled rooftops-mythical, the stuff of legend, one of the world's great wonders. We ooh and ahh. And we mean it. I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect to see this, the Wall as part of everyday life in a traditional village.
Aside from the hawkers lining the main road, the village is quite un-touristy. Hardly anyone is here on this sun-soaked Christmas Eve. At the foot of the stairs leading up to the mountain (we could take the tram, but we are feeling energetic) an old man is sitting on a chair, smoking from a carved wooden pipe the size of a mixing bowl. Between puffs, he shouts gleefully in Mandarin. I imagine he is saying something like, "Come one, come all! See the Great Wall of China, right before your very eyes! See the majesty of one of the Great Wonders of the World!"
We huff and puff up the stairs. The Wall is just within reach. It looks mediaeval-I half expect to see the Chinese version of knights guarding it. Back in its heyday, it was guarded by thousands upon thousands of men.
According to legend, says Kevin, Manchu warriors managed to invade China when a general left the door open. Imagine all those thousands of miles of Wall built on blood sweat and toil to keep out the enemy, then someone goes and leaves a door open. What a git.
At the top of the stairs, an old weatherbeaten man peeks out of the entrance.
"Beer!" he calls. His voice is sharp in the clear mountain air. "So cool and refreshing! You want beer!"
Ashley and I look at each other. The old man smiles hopefully, a toothy grin. "Yes!" he urges. "Beer is good!"
Unbelievably, we decline. More unbelievably, Kent, even more of a party animal than Ashley, declines. We sense this is a day we will never forget. We want to keep our heads clear. Besides, there's no toilets and we can't very well pee on the Wall. And we're already drunk on the view.
For miles and miles, as far as the eye can see in both directions, the Great Wall snakes along the top of the mountain ridges like a spiny serpent, faithfully hugging each curve and undulation. In the distant mountains, it clings precariously above precipitous drops, winding into the distance.
We brandish our cameras and snap away to capture it. We trot along the Wall towards our goal-the top of the next peak where the tram takes visitors back down-leaving the old man to resume his place by the door with his cooler of snacks and beer.
Kevin is a wealth of trivia. "There's a saying that for every brick laid, one man died," he says. We gaze at the bricks, so tightly and neatly set together. Thousands of miles, countless bricks laid by unseen hands...too many lives to even begin to comprehend. What a magnificent structure these people have created.
We can't believe we're here. We are jubilant. We have the Wall almost entirely to ourselves. The sun is shining, and it's Christmas Eve. Every once in a while Kent throws out his arms and exclaims, "We are on the Great Wall of China!"
We take photos of every possible angle. We prance and we pose. We put our arms around each other. We run up and down the steps, exploring the watchtowers.
"Oop! Someone left the door open!"
It's like we are twelve years old, filled with wonder at the world. This is me peeking out from the Wall! This is me posing against the Wall! This is me looking sexy in the arch of the Wall!
I put my camera in my pocket awhile so I can really see.
Here is a bird with a white throat singing in a tree. Here are the mountains, wearing shades I've never seen. Here are my friends, looking so happy.
We pause and rest on the steps, breathe in fresh mountain air. No blaring horns, no city sounds. Just open space, the quiet rush of wind. It expands and creates a space inside me, filled with peace.
We decide to walk back. We don't want the day to end. Poor Jay's feet are sore-she is so tiny and must walk two steps for each of our strides, but she doesn't complain.
The sun is slipping behind the mountains. The old man sees us coming. He perks up, ever hopeful at the sight of thirsty travellers, and shouts the magic word: "Beer!"
Comments
Awwww...
What a nice writing style you have, Wendy. Thank you for that insightful post.
Louise Brown
TravelPod Community Manager