Beijing - Day 5 (Part 4)

We were taken on an excursion of the Water Town in a Storage battery car which dropped us at the cable car station. Unfortunately, the cable car service was suspended due to strong winds. The cable car would have taken us up to the seventh beacon tower. The Simatai Great Wall was described as "the most dangerous". It is 5.4 km long with 35 beacon towers.

 

Entrance to Simatai Great Wall

This is where I stopped. Hikers descending the steps advised me not to continue. I captured this picture and was completely satisfied with my accomplishment. I have climbed part of the initial steps going up to the first beacon tower of the Simatai Great Wall, or something along those lines. Details are not important, are they?

My future plans include a second visit to Gubei Water Town where I hope to catch the cable car to the 7th beacon tower and take it up from there. (*chuckle* ~~~ There won't be much to "take up" if I know me, which I do.) The Capital Museum is worth a second visit because there are simply so much to see and learn. The Summer Palace and the Temple of Heaven required further exploration and we'll have to determine if the Forbidden City was indeed a claustrophobic experience. In the meantime, I need to nurse this flu and nose bleed, which came because "Beijing is dry," said Mr Fever.

At the Beijing airport, Mr Fever and another elderly traveler was sicker than ever. They swallowed some paracetamols a few hours before the flight so as not to cause the entire group to be quarantined. 

Beijing - Day 5 (Part 3)

The road to Gubei was long but Ms Cao (the Han Chinese with Manchurian status) kept us entertained. She told us how it was to grow up in a Communist era, the wants that were denied, the hopes that were dashed. While most in our group thought her stories were inappropriate I demurred. A visit to any destination is not complete if it did not include an understanding of its culture or its way of life.

She also told stories of the anomalies in her job. 

"In recent years, more of our people are traveling out of the country. There was this time I took a local group to Japan. One of the traveler is a naive rural woman traveling out of her country for the first time. In Japan, she picked up a packet of snacks from the supermarket. - "These biscuits are delicious, says she. Cat brand." - Cat Food!"

Ms Cao chortled.

"And there was this other time when a young woman was asked to present a passport sized photograph for the application of a passport. She had a nice picture taken of herself standing from head to toe with the appropriate background color. The picture was passport-sized, she argued and therefore suitable."

Ms Cao chuckled. Clearly she loved her job. Meanwhile, the scenery outside the van had transformed. We have reached our destination. Traces of the Simatai Great Wall could be seen along the distant hills.

Outline of the Simatai Great Wall along the distant hills.

GUBEI WATER TOWN is located below the SIMATAI GREAT WALL. The water town is essentially a theme park with hotels and recreational facilities. There was nothing ancient about this town.

These lions looked like the ones at the Marco Polo Bridge.

Beijing - Day 5 (Part 1)

Day 5 took us out of Beijing, past the Ming Tombs to the Glass Skywalk at Qinglianggu.

 

The Glass Sky Walk wasn't completed and building materials were strewn all over the place. Gravel debris had not been cleared. The cable car took us up the slope to a spot where further hiking up steep slopes finally get you to the Glass Sky Walk. The wind was strong and our cable car swung precariously.

Stone steps from the cable car station leading up to the Sky Walk

One of several water falls.

Beijing - Day 4

THE SUMMER PALACE

Dowager Cixi's Quarters

Beijing - Day 3

The little girl who stood behind us amongst the audience at the Acrobatic Performance last night was a torn in the flesh. She was as restless as a turkey in a freezing Turkish bath. Her mother was a young adult of about 20 or less. The grandparents looked like rural folks out for an exciting day in the city. All three were staring intently into the little screen on their phones which were recording the articulation of the acrobats on the stage below. Meanwhile, the little girl kicked our seats, struck our shoulder and occasionally, our heads. The mother yelled at her without taking her eyes off the little screen on the phone. It was imperative that the recording is not interrupted by any trivial issues. We turned around slowly to give the little monster a cold silent stare. It calmed her nerves.

This morning, another little girl of about the same age sat at the breakfast table in the hotel with a younger brother and her parents. The father, a man in his late thirties placed a bowl of soup before the girl, who sulked handsomely, refusing to accept anything the father was going to offer that morning due to some unknown injurious word the man must have uttered. She lifted the bowl of soup with a good measure of defiance and dumped it on her left while the father went to the buffet spread to pick up more food. The mother joined the children at the table with a plate of noodles. The little girl complained as she sulked, sulked as she complained. The mother uttered a few words, too inaudible to be picked up by me at the table behind them. The little girl picked up the rejected bowl of soup from her left, placed it before herself and started scooping it into her mouth, hurts and sulks forgotten.

There you go. Two mothers, two different outcome.

Mr Fever, looking feverish joined our table at breakfast  (which I thought was inappropriate in view of the legion of germs under his command, - but who's going to tell him to go away anyway?) A hasty brekkie was the better option so we had our quick fill and left for the little van. Today's destination is the MARCO POLO BRIDGE also known as LUGUO.

Ms Cao (the Manchurian tour guide) was in control. Mr Fever was feverish  (remember?) so he was left to his own devices. Dinner this night will include the Beijing Roast Duck and everyone was looking forward to it. First, we were scheduled for a compulsory visit to the Tea Factory.

The girls at the tea factory were young, pretty and aggressive. After their gentle cajoles, we bought some tea. One of the sales attendant got into a nasty argument with Madam Malindo who had declined to purchase any. As their unpleasant argument died down, the girl attending to us knelt down before me to gently rub my knees. I was taken aback by this invasion of privacy. Are they in such dire straits that they had to resort to this? The gentle cajoling recommenced and before a proper sneeze could make itself heard, we were in possession of another four compressed pu-erh  bricks giving us a total of six.

Just as we were about to leave with our purchases, the knee-rubber approached me for the final kill.

"Top up to ten bricks," she began. I did not wait to hear more.

Beijing - Day 2 (Part 2)

THE DOWAGER'S GREEN CUBE Earlier this year, I came across a documentary featuring Beijing's fermented tofu. It was said that although it stank to high Heaven, it's effect on the palette was heavenly. The late Dowager Cixi (Qing Dynasty) loved it and not knowing what it was called decided thereon to call it "THE GREEN CUBE". And by this name it has been called since.

Not knowing how or where to find the factory where The Green Cube was produced, I thought I'd give the supermarket a try. And right there on the shelf by a corner,  I found it! It was wrapped in layers and carefully packed into my suitcase to contain its stench. Right about now, this jar of green cube is sitting in my fridge while I  figure out what's to be done to and with it.

I'll keep you posted.

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Beijing - Day 2 (Part 1)

While the rest of the group were dashing about taking pictures from strategic spots, I approached Miss Cao, the Manchurian tour guide.

"May I take a look at your hand?" I asked, pointing at her hand.

"Yes, yes." she said as she extended them.

"A genealogy student once told me that one of the genetic traits of a Han Chinese is this line above the elbow. You said you were Manchurian. How is it that you have this distinct line here? (Members of the group who stood nearby helped in the above translation.)

She smiled. Withdrawing her hands, she explained that her ancestor was a Han Chinese who were given Manchurian status by the emperor back then for a service rendered to the dynasty.

At this point in the conversation, everyone in the group studied their hands intently. Madam Malindo extended hers to ask if she too, had the aforesaid line. (There were none.)

"My eyes are not too good today. Perhaps you could ask someone else."  I said as I circumvented the embarrassment of having to tell her that she could well be a tribal princess from the northern barbaric region.

Ms Cao took a quick look, pointed at somewhere near the fold and said that the line was right there.

"Are you sure you saw the line? Are you saying that I'm a Han Chinese?"

"Ya, ya ya"!"

"Gah! I'm not even a Han Chinese!"

Miss Cao scooted out of sight as Miss Malindo told me the history of her people.

"My ancestor left China a long time ago during the reign of the previous dynasty. They were cast out when the emperor extended his border. On his dying bed, my grandfather told us that we may settle in any part of the world except China. Our history, who we were, were hidden inside a locked chest. This chest was burned by my mother after the Japanese invasion. To this day, my mother was blamed for the loss of our identity."

The story intrigued me so we explored her option. She was not Han nor Manchurian. Judging by her love for mutton, she could be ~~~ gosh! Anything! I'm thinking ... physique wise, maybe Mongolian.

Part 2

Beijing - Day 1 (Part 2)

For reasons best known to the driver of the little van, we were picked up at the Olympic Village and dropped outside the NATIONAL CENTER FOR THE PERFORMING ARTS. It was a long walk from here to the crowded TIANANMEN SQUARE.

Ms Cao (the Manchurian tour guide) directed us to a group of professional photographers who aligned us for a group picture. For a certain sum, we get our picture in a booklet with information about TIANANMEN SQUARE and the FORBIDDEN CITY. I wondered why they bothered. In this time and age, most travelers were carrying digital cameras and selfie sticks.

To think that this was the spot where students were massacred all those years ago. I could not even remember why they were massacred. For a square this big, there must have been some confusion at the time of the incident. Innocent bystanders, those who were at the wrong place at the wrong time may not even see it coming. Then there were questions about them who funded those student rebels. Gah! Politics!

After the TianAnMen Entrance

Into the Forbidden City

On both sides of the main entrance were two other smaller entrances. Military officials entered from the left while civil officials entered from the right. As the main entrance were crowded with tourists shoving each other to gaze at the Imperial Throne, (perhaps a queue system is what's missing here), we headed for the right entrance. After this, you're just looking at more of the same.

All gathering to peek at the Imperial Throne. (Right)

If you think you can touch the Imperial Throne, you're grossly mistaken. Above shot is taken from the doorway which was cordoned off.

Ceramic basins containing water for fire fighting.

Bolted entrance to parts of the Imperial Palace which were more than forbidden.

Having seen the Forbidden City for what it is, my thoughts drifted to what it was. In all its implied grandeur, the forbidden city is no more than a giant gilded cage filled with pathetic exotic birds. Walls and gates, bolted doors kept the commoners out. It also kept the exalted in. I could sense a certain panic washing over me as I looked at the forbidding walls, the narrowness of the passages between those walls, the breathlessness of a trapped animal and the agonies of those contained within. I thought about Pu Yi (the last emperor). Terrible time to be handed the Mandate of Heaven, I thought. And my mind went to the ancient dudes who peered at the stars in the night sky, fingers caressing their goatee absentmindedly, then abruptly stared in alarm at a busy thumb as it tapped four other fingers to derive at a dire revelation. These are the astrologists forewarning how the Dowager Cixi was going to bring the downfall of the Qing dynasty, or how the Empress Wu Zetian was going to rule after the passing of Li Shimin. (Tang Dynasty) Was it just happenstance or did those ancient men foretold what was coming just by looking at the stars. Are the stars documenting our future and our past? I was glad to step away from the imposing walls and its ancient hidden secrets.

JINGSHAN PARK is something else. This is where the Emperor and his favorite concubine strolled among the peonies when the occasion called for it.

Right about here, Ms Cao advised us to put our cameras away. We have reached the spot where the last Ming Emperor hung himself from a nearby tree as rebels and the Manchurian invaders conspired to capture the Imperial Throne. The Ming Dynasty met its demise. The Ming Princess Changping had her left arm severed. This later became the inspiration for a renown Cantonese Opera

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