Beijing, China 12/3/06

My legs are tired. Actually they are past tired. They are sore. Like inertia though I keep going. A Mat set in motion will remain in motion until a force of equal or greater strength acts upon it, or him in this case. I could just get in a cab but I know where I am and I know where I am going. Once I get in a taxi, with a cabby that doesn’t speak any English, that all goes out the window. I could end up going entirely the wrong way. I would rather have tired legs and know where I am than exhaust my brain trying to tell a driver where to go, or worse yet trying to find out where I am when it eventually stops. I know all to well what it feels like when the guy turns around with the “here we are face” and I don’t see anything that looks like what I was shooting for. So with sore legs I march on…after a little pause for an espresso and a journal entry of course.

My legs are sore, not from running this time but rather just from walking. My trusty hiking boots and I have logged many memorable miles in the last 3 days. Day one we marched into Tian’anmen Square and then onto The Forbidden City. Technically only 2 places on my non-documented “places to see” list but togther they cover an area of several square kilometers so it took me most of the day and laid the groundwork for the current condition of my legs.

Most of the damage was done on day 2 though; a 10 kilometer hike on the Great Wall, from Janshanling to Simatai to be exact. That distance alone would take its toll on the legs but the Wall added some inclines and declines to make it more fun. The Great Wall would be more aptly named The Great Staircase. Of the 10km that I walked I bet you couldn’t find a flat section longer than 5 meters.

I should have rested some on day 3, today, but it’s my last day in Beijing. I thought, “Just a couple kilometers to the Temple of Heaven and then maybe up to Jingshan Park.” I realized problem one with this plan when I got to the Temple Of Heaven and found out what I had seen pictured was not “the” Temple but rather the Hall of Prayer For Good Harvest. The Temple of Heaven actually refers to a park and several temples including the afore mentioned Hall of Prayer For Good Harvest. When I put on the self guided audio head set and it told me the park was 4 times larger than the Forbidden City I felt the first hint of protest from my legs.

The real stupid part came after the Temple of Heaven when I set out for Jinshan Park, roughly 6 km north. At 3 km my brain and body started fighting. There’s nothing like calling yourself stupid for 3 kilometers. I wondered why I wouldn’t stop the entire way. The only answer I could come up with was “Cause there is stuff you haven’t seen yet!”

Well now I have seen “it”, the top of Jingshan Park and the view of Beijing from the top of the hill. My reward? A feeling of satisfaction I guess. I hope it lasts the 4 km I still have to walk to get back to my room.

There is so much I could write about China. Like the huge size of the country, everything in Beijing seems to reflect the same large size as is evident in the many kilometers I have hiked just to see a handful of areas.

However with all the feelings of seeing large areas and places, I will say that as I stood in Tian’anmen Square, staring at the National Flag, with the huge picture of Mao on the wall leading to the Forbidden City, I think I felt the world get smaller. These were no longer places from an encyclopedia. These were places I could touch and feel, and to be really specific, these were places were I froze my ass off!

Did I mention that it’s crazy cold here?! Probably low 30’s without the wind-chill. I had to buy a coat! No worries of course. This Florida boy needed a winter coat. Plus I have a feeling my nice Columbia coat will be with me for a long time and I will always remember the dark Hutong (alley) in Beijing where I haggled for it. On a side note, it’s tough to haggle for a coat, after you have tried it on and refused to take it off because it’s to cold. They pretty much know you are going to buy it.

The hike on the Wall will probably be the first thing I remember when eventually someone asks me about China. It is such a vivid memory; sunny day; cold air; blue sky; rolling hills in all directions; the bumpy hard wall rolling like a snake in what seems like random directions. Probably the oddest feeling I had there; isolation, silence, peace….there was hardly anyone else there. I couldn’t believe that I was at one of the "modern" Wonders of the World and when I got there I didn’t have to wait in line or jockey for a camera position.

A van drove about 10 of us 4 hours outside of Beijing to Janshanling. There, 3 of us got out. The van, with the others, drove onto Simatai. We had 4 hours to get there and meet back up with them for the ride back to Beijing.

My hiking buddies were Kristen, an English girl about my age who works in Hong Kong, and Guilia, an Italian girl doing an internship in Shanghai. We walked and talked most of the way and had a great time. Occasionally we would catch up to or pass other hikers. Not counting the handful of locals selling postcards, books, and drinks that Guilia would always run off, we probably saw about 20 other hikers on the 10 km hike.

A few times I would pick up my pace and leave the girls behind and well out of sight. Here is when I had my isolation moments, more “small world” moments. Not a person in sight in any direction, just a boy from Philo standing alone on a crumbling section of the Great Wall of China. I would sit down and have a snack; take some pictures; a few times I just stood there and stared. It was another amazing experience in a trip that seems to produce at least one a day.

My last story from Beijing comes from day 1. Of the thousands of tourists in Tian’anmen Square and The Forbidden City there are very few Westerners. They are mostly Chinese from other parts of the country. After wandering around the last 3 countries, I am quite used to people approaching me to sell me something; to invite me to come look in their store; etc. I often times don’t even realize I am saying “no thank you” as I walk and look around. When I got into The Forbidden City though I noticed things changed a bit.

People would walk up to me and ask where I was from. How long I had been in China? How I was doing? Etc. but they would then just walk away; never a sales pitch. The first couple times it happened I felt like George Costanza when the Sunshine Carpet Cleaners/cult wouldn’t brain wash him. I found myself thinking “Hey! What’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough to buy your lousy t-shirt or watch? Just cause I haven’t shaved in a week doesn’t mean I don’t have money!”

By the third or fourth time though I started to figure it out. Getting the chance to talk to a Westerner was even rarer for some of them than visiting The Forbidden City.

I had started to understand this when two guys in their 20’s started walking with me as I left the City. They stayed with me as I strolled South through Tian’anmen Square. My guard was still up the entire way as they asked me questions. I told them where I was from; what I do for a living; what I thought of the weather and so on. We chatted and walked far enough that I knew they were not trying to sell me something. My thought was they were either waiting until we were isolated enough to rob me or they were hitting on me.

Finally the one that spoke the best English asked me, “So where are you going to now?” OK, here it comes I thought. I bet he’ll have an idea of where I could go.

“I am going to go over to one of those restaurants and eat.” I said as I continued walking.

There was then some debate between the two of them in Chinese. I just kept on walking but they quickly caught back up to me. Finally the fist one said “Uhhh, we would like to practice our English can we come eat with you?”

I thought to myself, “Wow, these guys are persistent. Well let me see. If I pick a place out here in the open; avoid small places; keep the front windows in view…...plus, worst case scenario, I am bigger than both of them, I haven’t been in a fight since 5th grade but surely if I have to I can get away from these two kids.

“Sure” I said. “My name is Mat.” “My name is Wong and this is my cousin Wong.”
“You’re both named Wong?” I confirmed.
“Yes, but you can call me Jimmy if you want. That’s my western name.” Wong #1 said proudly.

Sorry Wong. Your Momma named you Wong; I’m going to call you Wong.

I let my guard down a little as we looked for a place to eat and started asking more questions of my own. They shot down my first two suggestions on places to eat. One was a Japanese restaurant and I thought Wong #2 was going to punch me for suggesting it. His English wasn’t the best but he clearly got out the phrase “I hate Japanese!” and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t just talking about the food. I guess a few invasions throughout history have left him a little bitter.

My second suggestion was shot down for not being real clean. I was starting to get suspicious but they quickly picked a place just a couple doors down. Lots of windows and still on the main road. Perfect!

It was here that I came to appreciate my new friends and realize this was better than any old temple or shrine I could be photographing by myself. There were no pictures of food near the door or on the walls at this place. No pictures or English on the menu. If there would have been a record player on, it would have scratched to a halt as the Wongs led the only “big nose” in the place to a table.

“So what do you like Mat?” Wong #1 asked.
“I’ll eat anything as long as it didn’t previously bark or meow.”
He laughed “This is China not Korea!” And then he ordered a bunch of food for us.

Lunch was great; don’t know what it was but it was good. The conversation was even better. We talked about our families. They both have brothers and sisters which surprised me. China’s famous “Family Policy”, as they called it, wasn’t in place until around 1980. The Wong’s didn’t have much opinion on the subject. They understood why the policy was there and hoped they would one day have boys. Not just to carry on the family name but more because they think they are easier to raise. No argument there.

They are both college students in Shanghai. Wong #1 is a business/English major and wants to be a translator one day. Wong #2 is a law student and wants to follow in his Dads legal footsteps.

My guard was completely dropped when at the end of lunch they said are you ready to go? “Sure when do we get the bill?” I said.
“Wong #2 already took care of it.”
I was surprised. He must have paid for the bill when he went to the bathroom.
“Lunch is me!” Wong #2 said.
“Lunch is on me. On me.” Wong #1 corrected and then looked at me to double check.
“Yes, that is correct but you shouldn’t have.” I said.

I tried to give them money and they wouldn’t take anything. They just kept saying it was there honor and I was their guest. I gave my best “xiexie” (thank you) and felt bad for being so defensive earlier; off we went to wander Beijing some more.

I spent about 7 hours with the Wongs. The conversations varied from movies, music, & pop culture to politics, media, & how confusing girlfriends are. The more we talked the more they started asking me serious questions that I could tell they weren’t necessarily supposed to be asking me.

For example early in our talks we discussed travels, specifically where I have been and where I’m going. Wong #1 asked me if I was going to Tibet. “It’s very beautiful. No pollution.” He said even though he had never been there. I said I really wanted to but I didn’t have enough time this trip. “I hope to come back maybe in late 2007 and visit Tibet and Nepal, especially now that I hear the fighting has finally stopped in Nepal.” I said.

Wong #1 looked at me confused “They were fighting in Nepal?”
“Ya for a pretty long time.” I confirmed.
The topic changed but hours later it came up again when he asked me, “So in America the news talks about everything?”
“Ya, pretty much. They can say what they want if that’s what you mean.” I said.
“We don’t get all news here. Like Nepal, I never heard there was fighting.” He said with a frustrated tone. “We have to look on web outside of China for news.”

I could feel his frustration and I didn’t know what to say. I tried to add that even though we have a free press it doesn’t mean all of them are good. I knew it sounded stupid though and I stopped. I realized trying to explain sensationalistic journalism, or a Left vs. Right bias in the media sounds petty in China. Like a rich person complaining to a poor person about all the problems that come with having a lot of money. You forget that some problems are actually good to have.

I was also blown away with Wong #1’s knowledge of the U.S. He knew much of the history including the year of the revolution. “Is the Liberty Bell in Washington?” he asked.

“Nope, Philly.” I said and before I could correct my slang he chimed in with “Ah, Philadelphia, where they sign Declaration of Independence.”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“Where is big lady with torch?” Wong #2 asked.
“That would be the Statue of Liberty. It’s in New York.” I said
“Yes, France gave that to you correct?” Wong #1 added.
“Well not to me directly, I’m only 33, but yes France gave it to the U.S. I think it was made in China though like everything else in America.”

This joke didn’t translate very well and I spent the next few minutes trying to explain that China had not made the Statue and no, it was not just one more thing they had never been told.

Wong #1 was even up on his current affairs. Of course my thoughts on Bush came up but then he asked me about Clinton too.

“I like President Clinton very much.” He said. “Did you like John Kerry?”

Here I felt like an idiot. I was racking my brain for any other Chinese leader other than Mao to ask him about but couldn’t think of a single one. This kid knew candidates for the U.S. Presidency and I couldn’t even name his current president. Bad, bad, American I scolded myself.

After shopping for some souvenirs for Wong #2’s family (there Dad’s were financing the trip so he had to get something for his Mom & Sister or he’d be in trouble) we wrapped up the day at the Capital City Tea House. I’ve never liked tea, iced or hot. It’s one of those things I wish I liked, right next to watermelon and Hemingway novels. I had read though that taking part in a traditional Chinese tea ceremony was a great cultural experience. The Wongs said they had never done it either so I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. For the experience alone I can do shots of tea for an hour. I mean it’s not like its tequila.
We were taken into a little room with about a dozen small jars of tea on the table along with what looked like an old, small chemistry set. A few minutes later a young Chinese girl came in and started explaining all the steps. How to hold the little cup, how to drink with 3 sips, what each tea was like and its medicinal benefit. It was quite involved and again without the Wongs I couldn’t have done it. It was explained to me that the tea house was owned by the government so pictures were not allowed and I got the impression that even if the girl could speak English she was not allowed.

By the end I even found some teas I liked. It was a great experience for all of us. Wong #1 turned to me about half way through the tea time, to translate a discussion the other three had just had in Chinese that had them all laughing. “We were saying it was a lot of fun to share this with an American. You are very funny.” I loved it. It was one of those rare times when people are laughing at you and it feels just fine.

I think that about wraps up my time in Beijing. A big entry for some big places and big experiences. Plus a long time writing has given the ol’legs the rest I needed. Time to bundle back up and head back through Tian’anmen Square. Maybe this time I will be able to make it through the Square without picturing a tank and a lone student standing in its way. Doubt it; some images will forever be burned into my mind. I just know now I have other images and, better yet, memories, to store in the same mental file.
MJF