The Gobi Desert stretched out past our train window on the way south to China, a few camels and power poles dotting the landscape. We shared our cabin with a Belgium couple who were taking a year to travel before returning to Luxembourg. We crowded into the cabin, our large bag taking up the floor, and shared stories as the Gobi passed by. At around 9 PM we arrived at the Chinese-Mongolian border and customs officers quickly snapped up our passports and checked our storage areas. A few hours later our passports were returned and we watched as our train was lifted a meter or two in the air, its wheel base swapped to fit Chinese gauge tracks. This process took several hours as we drifted in and out of sleep, our cabin stuffy without AC.
By 4 PM the next day we found ourselves outside the Beijing train station looking for a six foot Greek man with glasses. He wasn’t hard to find among the Chinese crowd J. Nikos and his wife Cindy (a local Beijing resident) were our hosts for our week in Beijing. Our original plan was to spend a three days in Beijing and then travel by night-train to Datong and Xi’An. Our friend from Ekaterinburg, Jun, and Cindy had even worked together to purchase tickets; however, due to Chinese bureaucracy and corruption, our tickets fell through and we opted to just explore the vast city. Cindy and Nikos had fixed up her grandparents’ traditional court-yard style house to share with her mother and guests (again a wonderful airbnb place). The house plus the company made for a wonderful and relaxing time in an otherwise grey, cramped and inhospitable city.
Shortly after settling in, Cindy and Nikos walked us across the street for traditional cold noodles. Made in a variety of shapes and substances, our favorite were the flat, sponge-like buckwheat noodles mixed with diced cucumber and chili sauce (craving them now as we type this). The old cook handed us our noodles presented like a masterpiece, for just 2 USD. We wanted to say something in appreciation, but our attempt at saying “chi-chi” was probably incomprehensible.
Our first day in Beijing was spent walking a circuit from Cindy’s to Hou Hai and Qian Hai lakes, taking in the Drum Tower, boutique shops and the home of Soong Ching Ling, wife of the Chinese Communist founder Sun Yat-Tsen. Soong Ching Ling’s exhibit was our first taste of Chinese propaganda and historical fact tweaking. According to the exhibit, Soong Ching Ling was hard working, modest and always cared for the country’s children. In all ways, she was also humble, hard working and modest. Lastly, she tirelessly cared for the country’s children and was, in every day life, modest and hard working. We got the point.
The next day Cindy kicked us out of the house for being lazy. Although it sounds like we did a lot the first day, we got up late and made it back early. Day two was anything but lazy. Beijing is a big city, and trying to walk it is a bold decision. An eight hour circuit took us to the Palace Garden of Prince Gong - a well maintained old mansion, Beihai Park with its White Pagoda - where we watched the elderly dancing, Tiananmen Square - with its large propaganda screen, and back through Wangfujing Dajie, Beijing’s Time Square. Along the way we were met with dense grey smog, tourist-hawking rickshaws, plush black government sedans, bullying army trucks, ancient palace rooms with dirty windows, closed doors and knock-off antiques, paved over palace courtyards and Chinese propaganda broadcasted on massive LCD screens in Tiananmen Square. At Wangfujing Dajie, a crowded, Disney-esk street for tourists, offered barbequed scorpions, star fish, seahorses, snakes, silk-worm cocoons, and other rarities were on sale.
And of course we had to see the “Great Wall.” For years the Chinese tried to convince foreigners that the wall wasn’t actually “great.” It was a hodge-podge of pieces constructed over several dynasties, with different materials and differing levels of quality. The first Chinese astronaut even confirmed it wasn’t viewable from space. But you know how foreigners are. Eventually, under Mao’s leadership, the Chinese decided what the heck, why not call it the “Great Wall” and use it as a marketing and propaganda tool (for more info on the wall and China’s break-neck growth check out Country Driving by Peter Hessler). Bright and early (well not really bright due to the smog) we caught the local 876 bus in the Dongzhimennei Dajie area and headed to Mutianyu, a portion of the great wall a little less traveled. Although a cable car can take you to the top, we chose to walk the grueling 100,000+ steps to Tower 10. From there we hoofed our way to Tower 1 and the east end of the wall, which included a walk along the ridge downhill and then nearly straight up to the tower - truly an awesome engineering work. Fog and smog surrounded us the entire time, which provided an eerie silence and sense of isolation. A few other travelers huffed and puffed by and a lone overweight Chinese singer gyrated his hips for a CCTV crew surrounded by Chinese flags.
We hopped on the toboggan for what we hoped would be a quick ride down the mountain, but about half way got stuck behind a stuffy Chinese woman who took full liberties of her breaks (yes there is video). As we arrived at the base of the mountain, storm clouds approached and we rushed to for cover with our fellow bus mates, half locals half tourists. We then proceeded to wait for one hour under torrential rain and street flooding (our shoes were soaked) while being hawked by two persistent taxi drivers. According to them, our bus was going to be delayed several hours or more probably couldn’t make it up the hill in the rain. They gave up after the bus arrived. We felt a little sorry for them considering the effort they had made. That evening over spicy homemade buffalo wings at Nikos and Cindy’, we learned about Cindy’s boss Wim Delvoye, a Belgium artist whose approach could be summed up as “crazy shit.”
Next Up: Beijing Part 2 – Beijing shopping, the locals’ park, news from home and our impression of Beijing.
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