Spring 2007 > China > Part I

BEIJING BOUND

I don't know how many people apply for re-entry permits on the day of travel with luggage in tow, but it was a good thing that mine was done and dusted within fifteen minutes as I hadn't been able to get one the day before as National Foundation Day was being observed. Nevertheless, Baptiste, myself and Ilan (who's idea of backpacking appeared to be dragging an almost monolithic suitcase around) caught the train to Kansai International Aiport without a hitch. I guess it wasn't peak travel season, as the airport was near-empty, as was our flight, which left ten minutes early anyway.

China Air was to be our airline for the trip, but I can't say I'd recommend them at all. The food was okay, the service unexceptional, the Chinglish news headlines amusing - but their take-off and landing and frequent turbulence didn't fill me with much confidence. Having bagged the window seat, I got to see China from above, but all I could see were vast expanses of brown dirt, puncuated with identikit blocks of skyscrapers, often regimented in colour coding like giant Lego. The airport staff provided us with endless forms to fill in for our enjoyment, but we were approved entry with no hint of resistance (although later experiences ran far less smoothly). Once processed, it was time to 'queue' for a taxi and throw ourselves head first into Chinese society - how we could have ever done it without Ilan, I have no idea, as a typical Chinese conversation sounds more like a vicious argument or bile-spewing rant than a polite exchange of words.

We were heading to Beijing Train Station but the ride there took an unbelievable length of time, with very long expressways that took us past crumbling shacks at the foot of neon-lit skyscrapers (and Tesco in the distance). Queueing is not a recognised activity among most Chinese, and the same rules do not apply for the highway code. Indicating is optional, road markings and lanes are merely suggested guidelines, the horn should be used as frequently as possible and if the jam is too bad, use of the pavement is advised. We were told the traffic situation has gotten especially bad over the past decade, with many abandoning bicycles for cars, and forgoing the admittedly useless public transportation network (in which you have to take a bus to get to a subway station, with an archaic ticketing system anyway) for taxis. This despite the fact that all the roads are massively wide, yet every hour feels like rush hour. With the swell in road-use, the pollution has gotten worse, with smog masking hilltop views and dirt lingering in the air. This was to greet us upon our arrival at the train station, as a cold wind blasted grit into our eyes and down the back of our throats. Hundreds of people had massed at the ticket booths to buy up seats for their impending migration home for the holiday season, and we were extremely lucky to get soft sleeper tickets for our Beijing to Shanghai leg.

Tired and cold, we taxi'd to Soiran's brother's university. Soirin greeted us with a warm welcome and some recently learned English (surprising even his sister) and took us to an on-campus, but yet still huge and ornate, restaurant to eat and meet his friends, all with varying levels of English ability. Soirin seemed very interested to know what our opinions were on Karl Marx and Taiwan, but we weren't really in the right frame of mind to begin a debate on such hot topics. Instead, we were introduced to another Chinese custom in which, rather than everyone saying "Cheers!" at one time, you must perform the act one on one multiple times offering a different reason for raising your glass each time. Every conversation seemed to begin or end with yet another "Cheers!". After food came the search for accommodation, and with no nearby hostels accepting foreign gents such as Baptiste and I (can't blame them), we ended up in a cheap nice hotel. We then ended the evening with a bout of karaoke, and while English songs were few and the microphones kept breaking, our sore throats at the end were proof of something.

The next morning was hurried as our Chinese friends had found us a new place to stay. Their ex-headmaster apparently knew the manager of the Redwall Hotel near the Forbidden City, and, for some reason I'll never figure out (maybe he thought we were international cultural ambassadors or I was an Olympic official, scoping out Beijing in lieu of London's plans in 5 years time), we were allowed to stay for three days. Free of charge. And this wasn't some run-down dirty hostel - this was a rather swish upscale hotel! However, this was all on one condition: that we have lunch with them in the hotel restaurant. Well, it's not like we could or would refuse, so we were all ushered into the private backroom for a lavish feast. Not only were the headmaster and the hotel manager's family and friends in attendance, but at the head of the table was a member of the Chinese army! Now, it's very hard being thrust into these opulent dinners with such esteemed company, especially when you don't understand the language, so you are mostly silent, but also because you're being presented with unusual food you are not used to and actually don't like especially - how the hell do you deal with it without seeming rude and ungrateful? After numerous cheers and toasts (they pressured us into choosing beer, only for them to all drink apple juice instead), dish after dish appeared on the table. I stomached the giant jelly mushroom starter as best I could, but I was almost finished off by a rogue chili that left me breathless and tear-jerked for a good five minutes - I don't think anyone important noticed, thankfully. But I genuinely can't say I like spicy foods now as a whole since my visit to China and Thailand - they really do cross the boundaries of taste there! Luckily, there was a good deal of vegetables and genuine authentic Peking Duck to satisfy everyone.

Lunch finished abruptly, and the rest of the day was spent in one of Beijing's many shopping emporiums, filled with stalls offering various goods of varying legitimacy. I settled on a new (if crap) watch for my travels, which started out at 68 yuan (about £4.50). I've never enjoyed haggling - I feel like the shopping experience should be a joyous one shared between supplier and consumer, not a depressing argument where you try and out-stingy each other - but in China it is de rigeur. After I gave a few dummy near-walkoffs, I got it down to 35 yuan, almost half price. I told Ilan, but she was not impressed, saying I should have got it down to 20-25 yuan. I thought I did good for a novice, but there's just no pleasing some people. We finished up in a Beijing 2008 souvenir shop (one of many around the country) and a Starbucks (one of many around the country), before a quick evening visit to Tiannamen Square.


What a place to spend Valentine's Day, indeed! It was rather chilly, but the dark blue sky, black birds and white lights made for some lovely snapshots. The Gate of Heavenly Peace, with Mao's image still lovingly adorned upon it, had a large police and guard presence, as it also did pushy souvenir vendors flogging their wares. In what would come to typify our journey in Beijing and Shanghai, at every turn someone would pounce upin us to desperately sell their tacky goods. Ilan advised us to brush them off with a simple smile, dismissive wave and a 'xie xie' ("thanks", but in this context "no thanks"). This worked most of the time, though they'd usually answer back in Chinese as we walked off - obviously some sort of insult flung at us, but we didn't understand, so who cares? It seems that the Chinese people we met were either really rude and aggressive or incredibly nice and friendly. Sometimes it was hard to judge which was which, but more on the nice ones later...

The So siblings had to catch a flight back home, so we bid our farewells, and continued to have a peek around Tiannamen Square at night. After about an hour, we walked back to the hotel, which must have taken close to another hour, as it became very clear that Beijing is a very, very big city. We found a fast-food restaurant nearby offering bowls of yummy beef rice and some very familiar tasting warm soya milk, and then went to a dodgy DVD/CD shop, filled with boxsets with bad blurbs and print jobs. It was not long before we returned to our lovely new hotel for a good sleep before our early wake-up for our busy tour the next day.


AND ALWAYS LET YOUR CONSCIENCE BE YOUR GUIDE

We woke at 6am to catch our 7:20am tourist bus as we were to take in the ancient sights outside Beijing. We were joined by a rather moody and pushy Indian couple, and Johannes, a friendly German in his late 40s with four kids, but still on a fun vacation (with Australia next). Our tour guide for the day was Wendy, a saucy Chinese lady in her mid-40s, with a good command of English and a wicked sense of humour. Her topics of conversations included: the Emperor's laziness as a result of his 1000 concubines (and comparing him to Bill Clinton); eunuchs; 'Audi' Schroeder (four wives = four rings); monkey brains, and how eating them makes you smart; Chinese vodka, and dragon-tiger soup (made from snake and cat). As we left Beijing city, we drove past the new Olympic buildings, including the main Bird Nest stadium, the bubble-walled swimming pool and the swish velodrome. However, our main ports of call were to be the Great Wall and the Ming Tombs, but beforehand, we were introduced to another interesting feature of Chinese tourism - the Happiness Store.

Dressed up like a factory museum, you are led on a little tour, explaining the history of a particular Chinese commodity (in this case, jade), then you get a look at the manufacturing process, before being ushered into the gift shop. Now, most museums have a gift shop, but in this case the gift shop IS the museum - everything's for sale and everyone is trying to sell you everything. Maybe it was because this was our first such retailer, but we found the jade factory the least pushy of them all, and we were quite happy to indulge them with some little purchases, given that we had little time to look for souvenirs elsewhere. Obviously there are all sorts of behind-the-scenes dealings between shops, tour operators, hotels and the government, but they really have to practice their sales techniques better. The customer is more likely to be turned off a purchase if they feel like they are being bullied, tricked and cheated - maybe others would submit and pay to get them to go away, but you shouldn't have to. Sort it out guys!

We arrived at the Badaling section of the Great Wall around 9-ish. The sun was out, the weather was fine, and the stretch of the wall across the length of the valley was virtually empty. And for no reason at all, there was a camel sitting in the car park. Us brave young souls picked the hard section to climb up, and rock hard it was too. The first section practically killed us, as if we were climbing the tip of an upside-down iceberg. An iceberg made of STEPS. Some were one brick high, while others were three or more, making for very uneven, calf-and-thigh destroying strikeforce impact. The numerous watchtowers offered some respite as a place to catch our breath, but we made it to the top of the peak, making us great men in the eyes of Mao. Getting back down was just as tricky though, and falling head over heels was an all-too-real possibility. But we made it to the bottom without injury.

Lunch was at another of those tourist stores, but with a restaurant attached, offering cheap but quite nice local dishes to a endless stream of tourist groups doing the same circuit. It's not what either of us would have wanted to do ideally, but money and time restrictions applied. Next were the Ming Tombs, home to various Ming emperors. Not sure which one we visited, but it was filled with traditional Chinese architecture that was at first interesting and pretty, but most places used the same designs and colour schemes, so looking back, it was rather ho-hum. Still, it was worth going just to hang out and joke around with Wendy. She enthusiastically pointed out the three 'woman trees' that grew out of the stonework, which would offer us concubines if we gave them a stroke. Knowing my luck, I had a sneaking suspicion I'd end up with concublokes instead. And while the colour schemes were repeated ad infinitum, the predominace of red (for happiness) got us thinking about the succesful US brands like Coca-Cola and KFC that had made in-roads to China. Heck, McDonald's Golden Arches represent the offical yellow colour of the imperial household. Our final stop was a little teahouse back in town, where we got to sample various Chinese tea and buy them (yes, that old tactic again). But it was a genuinely pleasant finish to the tour, and the various flavours were rather lovely.

Our tour had reached an end, but there was still a whole evening of entertainment ahead. We were going to head to the Drum and Bell Towers, but we got hopelessly lost on the way (it would turn out we made just one wrong turn) and ended up in Bei Hai Park as the sun was setting, which was a nice enough replacement anyway. The lake was still super frosty despite it not being too cold now, but just dry (the reverse of Hokkaido). There we met a father and his son (armed with a toy wooden sword) who spoke with us for a long time in English about all sorts of things as we walked around the edge of the lake - international trade, US slang, the tourist business. And while the odd word would defeat us (it took us a long time to register the word 'niche'), they were good company as we said our goodbyes and pressed on north. We headed to the bar and restaurant area around the hutongs along Qin Hai and Hou Hai, which had a wonderful cosompolitan atmosphere missing from the centre of town. Fireworks were being let off here and there (some right next to us from the fronts of businesses), adding to the vibrant feel, even if it was only Thursday night. We settled on dinner at the Alpha Omega Club, which featured live traditional music, followed by a funk-soul band (playing all the regional standards, as well as "Fever"). It had been a long hard day, so we rewarded ourselves with a load of junky food, with chicken nuggets, french fries, steak and black pepper sauce and a Hawaiian pizza (with banana). It weren't cheap, but we wanted to splash out - we were on holiday anyway, so why not? Once we were back at the hotel, we copped Zs pretty quickly - even if we were both coughing like crazy from the pollution and previous ailments.


BIG EMPTY

Some lucky kanji guesses at the bus stop got us transportation down to the Temple of Heaven, where the Emperor would have once performed various rituals for the benefit of the whole nation. We entered at the East Gate and were greeted with a gathering of old folk down the Long Corridor, having a nice sing-song. It seems parks are where people come to just do whatever they like, from tai chi to impromptu music performances, with audiences welcome but not necessary. We decided to take a very long walk down towards the South gate to enjoy the temple the right way round, but were met with very large walls blocking the route and the odd cypress wood. Nevertheless, we passed through the various stages of the temple site, from the Circular Altar to the Imperial Vault of Heaven (complete with Echo Wall which supposedly allows you to communicate with another on the opposite side of the courtyard, but we were either doing it wrong or it didn't work or there were too many people or all three). And then the long walk to the Hall for the Prayer of Good Harvests. It was at this point that Baptiste received the dreaded 'change battery screen' of death. We bought some choccie biccies to cheer us up and then spent a long time trying to find a way out of the park and then trying to find a place to eat, but the latter proved fruitless. If we were going to make our train to Shanghai and fit in the Forbidden City, we'd have to rely on biscuits for now.


Luckily, the Forbidden City was situated next to our hotel, so getting back to our bags wouldn't be a problem. Still, we didn't have time for an English-speaking guide, be they flesh and blood or the sultry voice of Roger Moore on the headsets offered. Our favourite spot in the Forbidden City was actually right at the start; a small garden filled with pavilions and gnarled trees. We walked through the length of the city's walls from north to south, with vast expanses and temples, huge squares, amphitheatre-esque tiers and a river running through. The main halls were closed to the public, undergoing restoration in time for the Olympics, but they had handily put up a replacement image across the scaffolding. Against our better judgment, we were yet again ensnared in the whole buy-me trap, as we offered a few minutes to look at an art exhibition which turned into 'students' from a Mongolian art school trying to sell their work (i.e. mass-produced prints) - we left quickly, rudely and unimpressed, with it all wearing a bit thin.

Once we exited the Forbidden City, we took a quick walk up Coal Hill to see into the whole complex, but the fog and smog and sunlight hindered visibility somewhat. However, we did get to eavesdrop on a Japanese tour guide - it's great, because they won't think you understand so you can leech off free guide info. Unfortunately, it has to be said that both of these grand sights were pretty underwhelming. Oh, they were big and nicely constructed and world famous and all, but it all felt somewhat soulless and uninspiring. I guess when something is so big, the personal touch is lost, but even then, I was expecting to be wowed by the Forbidden City at least, but left with a feeling that can only be summed up with 'meh'.

We returned to the hotel to pack up and check out (no bill!), then hopped in a cab to the train station with great difficulty thanks to big bags and little room. A quick meal at Yoshinoya (a Sinnified fast-food version of it anyway) before we joined the masses at the station waiting room. I asked one of the station officials for information, but he seemed more interested talking to me about sport. As soon as anyone finds out I'm English, all they want to talk about is football, which leaves me just smiling and nodding and not contributing, and probably makes them feel like they're getting the language wrong when they aren't. For instance, this guy was telling me how the Chinese team and an English team had just 'fought' each other. I just thought he meant it in the sense of competing. It was only a few days later when I found about the actual QPR Vs. China's Olympic Team brawl (BBC coverage / Fox Soccer Report) with kung-fu kicks a-plenty he had been referring to. He also said Bruce Lee was his hero, so I thought the use of wording was appropriate.

We huddled en masse onto the train and found our room occupied, but it turned out to be a mix-up on their part and not ours - though quite a bit of rubbish had been left behind. Nevertheless, we had the whole room to ourselves, and we relaxed in our beds, staring out of the window into the night, watching cities pass by and fireworks pop in the air. It was my first time travelling on an overnight train, so I had all the giddy excitedness usually attributed to those a quarter my age. But I did eventually get some sleep, as we were to arrive in Shanghai the following morning...

Coming in Part II: Shanghai - skyscrapers, vagabonds and hover trains!