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Friday 2004-02-13 - Groningen, the Netherlands
The big decision
I’m in Groningen this weekend to see my parents and have a belated new year’s dinner with them. Yesterday evening I brought up the subject of travel: last year they’d offered to pay for whatever trip I wanted to take but due to a load of different adverse circumstances I never got away. When the brochures for the new season started rolling in, my eye was caught by the special Marco Polo trip organized by Koning Aap this year: all the way across Asia, visiting many old Silk Road locations and other places where Marco Polo had been. More than two months to cross the continent West to East, from Damascus to Beijing … not just an exciting prospect by itself but it would also make up for the missed trip of last year.
When I asked Aap people about it at the vacation fair in January, they told me they’d already had quite a few inquiries specifically for this trip, so there was a good chance it would actually take place. So after my arrival this evening I broached the subject with my parents: a “double-length” trip, would they be prepared to pay for maybe half of this one, since I didn’t get to go last year? They’ll pay for all of this one!
Wow. I’m actually going to do this!
Thursday 2004-07-08 - Xi’an, China
Last train ride
By 14:00 we’re back in Xi’an, in time for a late lunch of sweet and sour pork with a very good draught beer. Then we go to the supermarket to get some snacks for on the train, and go and pick up our luggage from the hotel storage room and repack a little.
A little before five we walk to the station where we’re allowed into the soft-sleeper lounge again, and can go onto the platform before the masses — thankfully because it’s very crowded here. We find the train for Beijing already waiting; it leaves at exactly 18:00 but by then I find my luck has run out: I have the middle bed on the right — and just don’t manage to climb into it with my still painful right foot which I just don’t dare set on the narrow steps of the ladder (not without my sturdy walking shoes on, anyway). Someone has a brainwave: we swap beds and now I have the middle bed on the left which I can climb into because I can set my right foot on the lower bed, and my left one on the ladder.
Friday 2004-07-09 - Beijing, China
Broke in Beijing
I wake up before five; I slept well but not long enough. An hour later the train attendant comes by to wake us up (if necessary) and swap our little cards for our train tickets. We arrive in Beijing at 6:40.
I’m so tired after my too-short night, the first thing I do when we get our room in the Dong Fang hotel is go to bed for a nap — while Carla goes out with Thom to the Forbidden City. We were told that to view the Forbidden City you’d need to walk around some four or five hours, something I’m sure I can’t manage anyway with my still-hurting foot. When I wake up again it’s 12:30. I’d like to go out for a short walk, but first I’ll need some cash: I’m nearly broke. But before that — and before I can go out at all — I’ll need to have my passport (left at the check-in desk for registration), and I can’t get cash without a passport either.
When I arrive in the lobby and ask for my passport, explaining why I need it, a small opera results: our passports are locked away, it seems, and the lady who has the only key (really?) has gone to the bank to get cash, I’m told; she’ll be back in an hour. I insist they just cannot ‘lock up’ their guests by holding on to their passports: the lady with the key should have left that key behind so guests can have access to their passports. Obviously, things don’t quite work like they try to make me believe: apparently no one present has sufficient authority to open the (locked?) drawer with the passports. When I propose the assistant manager (“#0059” says his name tag, he doesn’t seem to have a name) call the lady with the key that seems to give him an opening; he suggests I sit at the lounge bar to wait … and less than 10 minutes later a bell boy appears to tell me my passport is here. Of course the lady with the key (does she even exist?) is nowhere in sight; I suspect they just decided to open the drawer, maybe without proper authorization.
Anyway, that’s really just the short version of what happened; then actually getting cash involves one non-functional ATM (in the hotel), one broken ATM (at a bank) and a bank teller at yet another bank. But I have my passport, and cash, and now I’m ready to explore Beijing a little — at my snail’s pace.
Not the temple I was looking for…
The little map on the back of my hotel business card indicates the location of the Tian Tan temple, which seems to be one of the must-see places in Beijing. It seems close enough for me to manage, so I set out in that direction. The little map is a bit sketchy though, and certainly not to scale; after passing the Friendship Hospital and turning to the right I do end up at a temple but a very different one — quite a find: my travel guide doesn’t even mention it.
I’m finding myself at the Xiannong temple complex, originally from the Ming dynasty period (started in 1420) and used by both Ming and Qing emperors. Offers to the god Xiannong were made here, and they celebrated the ‘ceremony of the planting’ to ensure a good harvest. The whole complex consists of several beautifully-restored buildings, observation platforms and shrines. It now houses the Beijing Museum of Ancient Architectures. I roam and sit around for quite a while (never going inside any of the buildings) before turning back to the hotel.
“Beautify the environment, Welcome the Olympic Games”
On the way back to the hotel I’m reminded how fast China is changing. Possibly stimulated by the upcoming Olympic games in 2008, China is becoming quite environmentally conscious. Recycling is stimulated: along the streets, the waste bins have separate compartments for different kinds of waste; spitting in public places is discouraged and frowned upon now; public toilets are much cleaner than they used to be. We’ve seen solar-powered hot water installations. In the desert we saw huge wind parks (one still under construction), as well as cell phone antennas powered by solar cells.
What reminded me of all this was the blue Beijing street sweeper’s cart I saw parked along a street near the hotel; on the sides (Chinese on one, English on the other) it bore the slogan “Beautify the environment, Welcome the Olympic Games”.
The opera
This evening we go out with a small group to enjoy a bit of Chinese opera; it’s quite nearby at the Liyuang Theatre, performed by members of the Beijing Opera. Tickets were arranged beforehand and were just 60¥.
Remarkably it’s not just permitted to eat and drink in the performance hall: near the front are seats at tables where snacks are being served, and there are drinks, even draft beer — expensive at 25¥, but most of us take one anyway as an essential ingredient of the experience.
After some introductory music there appears a speaker who (in English) gives a short explanation of how the Chinese opera ‘works’: There is never a set, everything needs to be imagined. Much is symbolic: two horse-less riders on stage may actually depict two armies clashing. Everything contributes to tell the story: music, song, dance, acrobatics and juggling — and of course the costumes and make up of the actors. The 1.5-hour show that follows is exciting and delightful; there’s never a dull moment and no need to understand Chinese to follow the story line. Since photography is allowed, I try to take some pictures, but my film isn’t very fast so I’m not very hopeful.
To round off the evening we dine together at a small neighborhood restaurant, where I have delicious pork in garlic sauce.
Saturday 2004-07-10 - Beijing, China
Delicious bread and a knife
Carla and I make a slow start this morning and leave our Beijing hotel without breakfast; we’ll buy something on the way to the Tien’anmen Square, our goal for today.
It’s a pleasant walk, first across the big road over a pedestrian bridge and then through the lively hutongs of the old center in the direction of Qianmen Dajie (Tianmen Avenue), the wide and fashionable shopping street that leads straight to the square and the Forbidden City beyond that. In the hutongs I note — as I did on my solitary walk to the Xiannong temple complex yesterday — that many of the houses have little low buildings tacked onto them, sticking out into the street. It reminds me a bit of what is called a “pothuis” in Amsterdam, where such buildings are built onto a half-subterranean kitchens and used to store the pots and pans. Except there are no subterranean kitchens here, and they all have a low (padlocked) door set into them on the street side. I make a wild guess: imagine an old town without plumbing — perhaps they attach to a bathroom (instead of a kitchen) and house a barrel for human sewage, to be picked up and exchanged for an empty one using those little doors. I remember this was still the practice in some old towns in the Netherlands during the 1950s where there was no mains water. I never find out whether my guess is right, or they are something else entirely.
Soon we turn right in the direction of Qianmen Dajie we find a place where they sell the type of deep-fried round bread with spring onions or other spices that I’m so fond of. We each get one for just 5 ¥ - in a little plastic carrier bag: they’re piping hot, too hot to eat immediately. As we walk on, the old hutong shopping street metamorphoses into a modern shopping street, where we go shopping, bread bags in hand. Here we come across a shop specializing in kitchen knives (nothing but kitchen knives!) and I can’t resist: I’ve long been looking for one of those large Asian kitchen knives to chop vegetables with and they have dozens of models and sizes here. The lady who helps us (Carla buys two as presents to bring home) does not speak a word of English, but firmly and expertly explains to us with some gestures and mime what the different knives are for (I don’t want a meat chopper!) and what is good quality and why: she clearly wants us to leave the store with a purchase we’ll be happy with for many years. The knife I get is heavy (but not too heavy for my small hands) and at 146 ¥ costs a fraction of what a knife of similar quality would cost in the Netherlands. Happy with our purchases, we sit on a stoop in front of an empty shop across the street to eat our bread: still hot but by now at an edible temperature and quite delicious.
Day off
Once in Qianmen Dajie (Tianmen Avenue) I’m disappointed that what on the map looks like a straight line all the way up to the Forbidden City (this part of Beijing clearly was designed that way, with a long, clear line of sight) is not actually navigable in a straight line now. But after some detours and underpasses we finally arrive on Tien’anmen Square. It’s quite large and impressiive, and busy with lots of predominanty Chinese tourists, despite the dark, hazy weather today. We walk all around, feeling the space and watching the monumental buildings around it — but also the tourists, ranging from lines of children clothed in modern ‘red brigade’ T-shirts to gaping visitors from the provinces; watching the peddlers selling trinkets and kites (flying some to attract attention), and the little girl running and delighting in her graciously flying string of kites; having our pictures taken for a change and taking a picture of the girl and her mother in return; watching the Chinese snapping away with their cameras (no camera? you can buy them right here, and many do so).
On the way back a girl starts chatting to us (she’s not the first): a lot of students are approaching tourists trying to persuade them to go to their art exhibition. When she gathers we’re travelling with a group (but with no group or tour leader in sight) she asks: “Is this your day off?” It takes a few seconds before it registers what that implies; it’s a nice illustration of the Chinese way of tourism. Our explanation that every day is a “day off” because we’re always free to wander around whenever we stay somewhere meets with a blank stare…
On the corner of Qianmen Dajie we share one (large) portion of duck and one (large) beer: a delicious lunch in front of a window watching the crowd go by. Further on in the street we find a bookstore that has maps. I love maps and can’t resist a (bilingual) map of Beijing and a (Chinese) map of the world. Then we go to our hotel to drop our purchases and give my still-hurting foot a rest.
No. 107 isn’t leak-proof
I read somewhere that Beijing’s air is so heavily polluted that one rarely sees a blue sky and Beijing’s children have never seen a starry night. It’s believable: all morning it’s been dark and hazy (although it was much better yesterday — and I now regret not taking a picture of the view from our hotel window then). But when we venture out again after dropping off the morning’s purchases, the sky has become even darker. Our plan is to visit Tiantan: the Temple of Heaven, which I didn’t find yesterday. Just before where we think we should turn right, the sky gets inky; moments later very large drops of rain start to fall.
Together with others we flee to shelter under the overhanging roof of a small restaurant on the corner: No. 107 (I’m not sure whether it has a name or whether that is the name). But the stoop is narrow and the roof doesn’t give much protection: we’re getting wet so we flee inside. The woman who runs the restaurant is calm (as if she’s seen this many times before) and tolerant: she doesn’t come bothering anyone if they want to sit down or eat or drink anything. Carla and I sit down at a table, order a beer, and prepare to watch the fun from our safe vantage point at the window… We soon are reminded of the downpour in Antakya: the road turns into a river, almost knee-deep in places; cyclists suddenly are all wearing rain ponchos (are they always so prepared?), some wading through the water next to their bikes, others managing to cycle through the stream.
Crack! That was a direct hit of lightning nearby — the Friendship Hospital a bit back down the road still has power, but all around it’s suddenly very dark. The wind now becomes stormy, and across the street captures a huge parasol with a heavy foot and drops it in the middle of the street.
Splat! The roof of No. 107 starts to leak — just over our table. We move over to the next one with our beer. Puddles start to form on the floor. Splat! It’s not just water coming down any more: wet plaster is coming with it, leaving white marks all over the tables and chairs near the window. We have to give up our view and move again. At a large table next to us a family is eating together, enjoying themselves and seemingly oblivious to the weather. After half an hour it lightens up a bit and the water level is down, we can see the side walk again: it looks like we might be able to reach the hotel without getting wet feet. For the beer, we only pay 2 ¥ — not sure whether it’s normally that cheap or whether we got a discount for the wet-plaster rain.
Tomorrow we fly back. The Tiantan will be waiting for us to return to Beijing some time…
Sunday 2004-07-11 - Beijing, China
Packing
After a goodbye dinner last night at a Beijing ‘hotpot’ restaurant (our tour companion is staying behind to accompany another group) I started preparing to pack for the flight back. The nice but heavy knife I bought yesterday got me worried: I was sure my luggage is seriously overweight by now so I tried to do some triage: what to take, what to leave. But I can’t leave any of the heavy stuff, really: all books and papers, all my rolls of film in the lead-lined bags, my Chinese kitchen knife… It’s not easy.
So after some sorting I didn’t sleep too well, tossing and turning, waking up repeatedly, mentally unpacking, repacking, sorting, keeping, rejecting. I make a few decisions but I stay worried. When I get up I’m not rested — and nervous. When I actually start packing I manage to save a Kg or maybe two (some clothes, toiletries, flipflops); not enough.
A costly flight back
A bus will take us to Beijing airport; before we leave we engage the bus driver to take a group picture of us at the hotel entrance — with several cameras — and I’m sure he does this more often. At the check-in desk at the airport my worst fears come true: not only is there a weight limit on checked luggage, there’s one for cabin luggage as well: my little backpack with all my rolls of films is twice as heavy as allowed and my bag is (as expected) overweight as well. I have to take out what I really want to take as hand luggage (luckily I have a small bag handy for that) and manage to carry my film rolls — they always go in my hand luggage — and some other essentials; then I convince the clerk she’s already quoted me an overweight on my bag, and shouldn’t suddenly re-weigh and add my now half-empty backpack as well. Still, I have to pay a hefty fee, which surprisingly I can pay with my credit card (they must be dealing with cash-less passengers more often). I shrug it off: compared to the total cost of our trip it’s still peanuts, and I accept it as a necessary cost of my gotten-out-of-hand photography hobby (and those 100 rolls of film in lead-lined bags): others buy more souvenirs, I pay for the films.
The flight back is uneventful; we’re changing planes in Vienna again, this time without being held up. Amsterdam feels strange after 65 days travelling across Asia. Tomorrow I’ll bring my films to the lab.
Wednesday 2004-07-21 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
“You’re a tough one!”
I’m back in in Amsterdam hospital to have a surgeon have a look at my broken foot. An assistant talks to me first, and hears my story, how I hurt my foot, and how I walked on it for another month. “Not a good start,” he says. Then the surgeon himself, a big gentle man, joins us, also hears my story, and tells me “You’re a tough one!”
He also explains about the risks of an operation which he prefers to avoid. Just to make sure we understand each other I explain how I missed doing things during the trip, such as the visit to the largely unrestored 10km stretch of the Great Wall near Beijing: I want to be able to do that next year, I say, not just walk in the city on nice, smooth pavement. That doesn’t change his mind: he doesn’t agree with the doctor of the emergency ward last week that an operation would have been necessary: “Let’s see first whether it starts to heal by itself now the foot is supported by the plaster,” he suggests. He gives it four weeks, so he can see me again after his vacation. In fact, I can go on vacation myself, he says — I’d planned a week with my parents in Germany — after all, I can walk on that cast, though not quickly or for very long. The prospect of going on vacation with my aging parents cheers me up though.
Sunday 2005-01-16 - Utrecht, the Netherlands
Tibet!
Today is the last day of the big Vacation Fair in Utrecht; I was going to go together with Carla, but she can’t come today; I promise to do good research on trips to Tibet: both of us are interested.
I go to the stand of Baobab first: they have an interesting trip. A plus is they’re planning a three-day hike along a lake near Lhasa; a big minus is that they’re using internal flights instead of (for instance) the train in China. So let’s see what Koning Aap Reizen (Monkey King Travels) has on offer.
Our travel companion of last year’s trip, Marie Josee, had told me she would be there (an exception, she’s travelling most of the year), and indeed she is. We have lunch together (noodles!) and a long chat: it’s really great to see her again after such a long time. Koning Aap’s trip to (through, actually) Tibet looks attractive too: minus: no hike; big plus: completely overland, no flight anywhere except to Beijing and back from Kāthmāndu. I already know that Carla prefers to travel overland as well. Then comes the clincher (for me, at least): when I mention to Marie Josee that the Baobab has a hike she comes up with two good ideas:
- she’d like to accompany this trip; and
- since we end up in Kāthmāndu we could add an extra week or two and do some hiking in the Kathmandu Valley or near Pokharā — she’d come, too, and she knows a lot of addresses of nice little hotels.
So we make a plan: Marie Josee will tell Koning Aap she’d like to accompany this trip (in September/October), the best time for Tibet, and (if Carla agrees), we’ll book on condition that the trip is accompanied by Marie Josee.
Saturday 2005-09-17 - Frankfurt, Germany
Feathers
As I expected (and half hoped) we have to go through the most interesting airport tunnel I know: the 270-meter long tunnel from concourse A to B on Frankfurt airport could have been a bore to walk through but they made an artwork of it: there’s indirect colored lighting along the walls, changing colors randomly, accompanied by interesting sound effects, all computer-controlled. The whole effect is quite interesting — and relaxing — but in addition the sounds make an interesting combination with the sound of the wheels of my little suitcase on the moving walkway.
At the gate we board on time but just when everyone is settled in their seats the captain comes on the speaker: there’s a problem with one of the engines, and it needs to be checked before we can depart; he apologizes he could not stop the boarding but suggests we’re better off waiting at the gate: the checkup may take 2 hours. When I go out I overhear a purser saying they found feathers on the engine: apparently they caught a bird…
After only 45 minutes we’re told we can board again but many people actually left the gate. The personnel took their boarding cards which the passengers can get back on presenting their passports. The girls at the gate make a game of it, reading out the names, picking up a stack of cards (stacks alphabetically sorted) and pulling up a card triumphantly. The result is that everyone is smiling and no one grumbles at the delay. Then when we’re back on the plane we sit and wait some more, and are told four passengers didn’t turn up: now their luggage has to be taken off the plane for security reasons. All in all we leave two hours late; a Chinese passenger next to us worries he’ll miss his connection in Beijing.
Meanwhile I feel I have a heavy cold coming up.
Sunday 2005-09-18 - Beijing, China
Preparing for the Olympics
In spite of the two-hour delay leaving Frankfurt the plane arrives only 15 minutes late in Beijing where Marie Josee, our travel companion, is waiting for us. Great to see her again — I give her a big hug. We’re at the hotel at noon, in a familiar neighborhood: our Rainbow hotel is only one block south of the Dong Fang hotel where we stayed last year (it’s being renovated now). Both hotels are in an area with relatively untouched hutongs: the old neighborhoods of Beijing — once all of Beijing was like this. To us it has a “fifties” atmosphere.
After getting Yuans and a delicious lunch with Carla and Gwendoline at a familiar neighborhood restaurant, The Tian’anmen square is next on our program for the day. We walk there through the hutongs and the modern shopping street Qianmen Dajie. It’s fun because today is a holiday, and nearly everyone has the day off: lots of people walking around, shopping, and just enjoying themselves on the Moon festival.
When we arrive at the square, there’s a difference, however: Next to the square, on the facade of the museum, there’s a huge display counting down to the 2008 Olympics and on the square itself lots of people are at work building enormous displays with sports themes decorated with lots of potted flowers: no day off for these people. China is preparing for the Olympics at a furious pace. The Olympic village is already built and ready — in fact it’s been standing empty for so long already it’s beginning to look dilapidated and will need some sprucing up before the games begin. The Beijing skyline is a wood of building cranes. In lots of other cities renovation (read: destruction of old buildings to be replaced by new ones) is going on at breakneck speed. Hopefully some of the hutongs in Beijing will be spared.
In the evening we go with the whole group to a hutong restaurant (a loose collection of tables and stools out on the street, and different vendors selling different dishes); we have Muslim mutton kebabs (hot!) and garlic kebabs, and a variety of vegetables, accompanied with a nice beer. A delicious meal for next to nothing.
Monday 2005-09-19 - Bejing, China
Imperial Palace
I wake up with a fever: my cold is getting a hold. I still want to go out though: I’m not feeling that bad. Together with Carla and Gwendoline I go to the Imperial palace today (also known as “The Forbidden City”; officially it’s the Palace Museum), right in the center of Beijing. Once we step outside, we find it’s chilly, quite a change from yesterday: we go back to our rooms to fetch a jacket and note most Beijing citizens are wearing long sleeves today as well. The atmosphere in the streets today is clearly different from yesterday when it was a holiday: now we see people going about their business instead of whole families strolling about lazily.
To my surprise we don’t have to pay right at the first gate (the one with the big portrait of chairman Mao above it) but walk right through onto an enormous courtyard, then on through another gate onto another courtyard. Only there we have to pay (60ұ) to go on into the complex.
What follows is quite impressive: one courtyard after another, all large or very large, with marble bridges over a little river and beautifully carved marble stairways; the buildings surrounding the courtyards all have brick-red painted walls and elegant roofs of yellow-glazed rounded tiles, topped by beautiful animals on all corners; the woodwork (especially below the roofs) is beautifully decorated with multi-colored paintings. The effect is quite pleasing, in spite of the enormous size of it all. Lots of potted plants stand around, there’s a pond full of lotus plants, here and there big bronze and marble sculptures of mythical beasts, and big bronze vats (purpose unknown). A few halls have impressive thrones but unfortunately you can’t go near, only peer at them from the entrance of the halls, and it’s rather dark inside.
It’s rightfully called the forbidden city: not only were ordinary Chinese citizens not allowed inside the walls of the palace grounds, but the whole complex — itself just a small part of metropolis Beijing — is indeed big as a city: I reckon he whole inner city of Groningen would easily fit in this area.
It’s a pity the restoration of the complex is still going on: many buildings are still in scaffolding and whole areas of the complex closed to the public. It will surely all be ready before the 2008 Olympics: maybe we should come back in the spring of 2009 to see it in its full glory.
Mask
On the way back from the Imperial Palace we decide to have lunch near Qianmen (south of Tian’anmen square), where Carla and I had lunch last year. I’m not hungry since I already had a bowl of noodles at the Forbidden City so I only have a beer while Carla and Gwendoline share a dish of sliced duck with onions (a kind of long, thin leek, actually).
From our table at the window we watch Beijing coming by.
I note a man coming from the underpass wearing a green surgical mask: not such a bad idea in Beijing with its polluted air, where the sky is rarely blue because of the smog. The sight of the mask reminds me of a comment from a Chinese I noted on an online forum that the TV news coverage of the SARS epidemic was rather biased: we were shown images of people walking around in masks, as if that was all because of the epidemic, while in reality it was already quite common. That brings to mind how the Chinese have had several campaigns to promote hygiene, for instance to discourage spitting in public: it used to be quite common just a few years ago but it’s rare now; no doubt the SARS epidemic helped bring that message home.
Having just arrived at this point in my musings about Chinese hygiene, I see the man unhooking the mask from his right ear, holding it aside, spitting a thick wad onto the pavement, and smoothly putting the mask back into place. It’s an exception. Really.
Sweeping a waterfall
A while later I note two young men standing outside, laughing, looking up: a waterfall is coming down right in front of the restaurant entrance but we can’t see what’s causing it. A girl from the restaurant goes outside with a mop and starts sweeping the water off the steps — rather futile since the water keeps coming down. Soon she’s joined by a colleague with a broom. Gradually the flood eases a bit and together they manage to sweep away most of the water from the entrance steps — only to have the waterfall start all over again. By the time we leave it’s almost stopped, but the steps are still slippery wet.
To the Opera
In the evening we go with most of the group to the Beijing Opera. Unlike last year, we go to the actual Beijing Opera house: a small building that’s over 400 years old, with quite beautifully decorated woodwork inside. A pity we have places on the balcony, on the side: we don’t have a very good view of the stage; also the explanation of the performance is not as good as we had last year. The performance itself is sublime though and the piece after the intermission is especially interesting for us: the star is the Monkey King — after whom our travel organization (Koning Aap) is called.
I know the film in my camera is not fast enough to be able to take pictures in the theater so I didn’t bring it. But a digital camera usually has a much wider range, so I try to do something with my brand-new camera phone. It’s just an experiment, but you never know: just one good picture would be nice to have.
Afterwards we all go and have a beer together in the hutongs before returning to the hotel. All in all a nice and interesting evening out.
Tuesday 2005-09-20 - Beijing, China
Morning Activities
Many Chinese get up early in the morning and go outside for some gentle exercise. One favorite place in Beijing is the Tiantan Park with the Temple of Heaven, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1998. Although the main temple is closed at the moment and in scaffolding for restoration, we get up early to go to the park for some people-watching. It proves to be quite an experience, well worth getting up early for.
The huge park itself is an oasis in the big city, with many trees and a chorus of chirping cicadas almost masking the music of the singing birds. Although the park itself, laid out in a formal geometrical style, and the buildings within it are quite interesting, it’s the people that really take our interest. People do all kinds of exercises such as Tai Chi (often with a teacher) but also other types of exercise, all gentle, such as a kind of dance with fans, or marching in figures with pompoms and fans as if it’ a band of cheerleaders — except most in the group are actually middle aged… We also see a group being taught western style dancing. Most of these activities are accompanied by music coming from loudspeakers placed at regular intervals but some (such as the cheerleader group) have live music.
Then there are all kinds of ball games, like badminton, or kicking around a kind of feather ball (people kick it at each other and it should stay in the air as long as possible, apparently). There’s also a ball game with a soft ball ans a round racket with which the ball is caught and thrown back (not hit) all in one fluid movement. Other people do stretching exercises, or walk backwards a long way, using a marble strip in the pavement as a guide.
Harmony is important for the Chinese, and one way or another all this is about harmony; exercise can become a kind of meditation, but we see other forms as well: some people are practicing calligraphy writing with big brushes and water on the pavement; I also note a man flying a kite, accompanied by soft music. His mind is clearly far away, too, and he doesn’t notice us watching. Even a choir is using the park for their practice sessions, accompanied by an accordionist.
Pleasure boat
Our bus picks us up at the North entrance of the park to take us to the Imperial Summer Palace on the outskirts of Beijing. After lunch in one of the restaurants near the entrance we go in (30Ұ). We (that’s Carla, Gwendoline and I) walk in the direction of the huge man-made lake that takes up some there-quarters of the the huge grounds where the emperors and their families came to escape the summer heat of Beijing. Although the weather is still gray and hazy today the air certainly is fresher here than in the city: it must have been pleasant here for the Imperial family as well, although the water in the lake is a murky green.
The huge complex is a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1998, especially because it is a unique and intact example of the Chinese art of gardening and landscaping, so different from European or Japanese gardens. Walking along the lake front, we notice along, elegant bridge leading to an island and decide to go there. The bridge, with seventeen arches, is quite beautiful, and we walk across it to the island. On the island is the Temple of the Dragon King, where the imperial family used to pray for rain. Across the lake I see other interesting bridges (I’m a bridge nut!), but they’re too far away for now, certainly too far to walk. Instead, we catch a “Pleasure Boat” (6Ұ), nicely decorated and with a pagoda-like roof, which takes us slowly across the lake to a landing near the palace, where another interesting sight awaits us: a beautifully carved marble boat lies at the landing, as if ready to cast off.
There’s no time to view buildings today, and we’re happy to walk outside in the fresh air anyway. After a drink at a small cafe near the landing, we walk along the waterfront back to the entrance. We’ve only scratched the surface here: we agree we’d need to come back for a whole day to really experience it, rent a boat to row or paddle around the lake, and visit the buildings; in spite of that we’ve had an interesting and pleasant afternoon.
Wednesday 2005-09-21 - Beijing, China
Great effort on the Great Wall
Today is the big day. Last year when I was in Beijing I wasn’t able to do the hike along the Great Wall because my foot hurt too much (I only later found out it was broken). Now, with an ankle sprained not a week before we left and a heavy cold still bothering me, I’m not exactly in optimal condition for this undertaking, but I’m not to be deterred: I promise myself to do this and I’m going to: you really haven’t been to China unless you’ve visited the Great Wall, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987.
The alarm goes off at 5:15 in the morning: we have to leave at six! The stretch of the Wall we’re going to walk, from Simatai to Jinshanling is about a three-hour ride from the city, and we’re soon in the middle of the rush hour. It’s amazing just how big this city is: it takes very long before we leave it behind us and see fields from the bus windows. Not so much afterwards, though, a little after eight, the engine suddenly starts to make a funny noise and the driver stops the bus along the road near what amounts to a truckers cafe: some plastic tables and stools outside where simple meals are served. The driver starts checking the engine, borrows a bucket of water at the cafe, brings it back, and declares it’s good to go, so we all get in again. He turns the key and … nothing. All out again. It seems the starter engine is broken. Are we really going to walk on the Great Wall today?
The driver arranges alternative transportation for us (mobile phones are ubiquitous now in China) and not too long afterwards a car and three micro buses arrive, and on we go — with just over an hour’s delay. After we turn off the main road, at 10 km from Simatai, the landscape gets more beautiful; we’re riding through a river valley now. At the entrance we buy our first ticket (30Ұ; every stretch that’s accessible requires a separate ticket, we’ll have to buy a few more). Our hike starts at 10:30.
I’m actually rather worried, my cold makes me feel rather weak, and my sprained ankle is still painful and I worry about making it worse. But Marie Josee promises she’ll stay at the back of the group, and that’s reassuring. Across a little bridge over the river and then up we go along a bit of “fake wall” to one of the towers. I take out my GPS to record where we start: N 40.66188, E 117.27609; elevation 306m.
The first stretch of the wall here is fully restored but it’s quite steep down to a (metal) bridge across the river where we have to buy our next ticket to be able to cross (5Ұ), and from there up a steep incline again. This is especially hard because there are very high steps on the steepest stretches, almost too high for my short legs: I have to literally push myself up and tire quickly. I’m soon the last of the group. But after the restored stretch ends it gets even harder: it’s still just as steep here but now on the broken stones and rubble it gets hard to keep my left foot horizontal to spare my sprained ankle. A good thing I took my monopod which doubles as a walking stick: I really need it here.
All around me is my reward: a landscape of endless rolling steep hills and low mountains, mostly untouched, over which the Great Wall snakes from hilltop to mountaintop with a tower on top of each. And all that in glorious sunshine with a blue sky. With still a long way to go, I can’t stop every moment to take pictures but I still take quite a few. Still, the enormous scale of this defense wall in the landscape is hard to capture in pictures. Tourists are coming by the bus full to look at the wall, and a few of them even walk to a tower and back, but it only really sinks in when you actually feel it with your feet, going from hilltop to hilltop, up and down and up and down. Hikers on the wall are from all over the world, but the only Chinese are their guides. At what I think is the highest point I take another measurement with my GPS: we’re now at N 40.67046, E 117.26532; and 502 m high (later I see the next tower is just a little higher still, but not by much).
Marie Josee worries about my slow pace and asks if I want to go back — but we just left the hardest part behind us: no way am I going back to walk those steep stretches again. So on we go and luckily we hear of an easy shortcut below the wall that will save us a several towers. We decide to take it. All over the wall are Mongolians selling books, postcards, T-shirts and other souvenirs: the Mongolian border is nearby. They can be quite bothersome though: if you don’t say “no” firmly enough they’ll come after you and keep following. When we want to take the shortcut, a Mongolian woman comes with us, and shows the way (obviously hoping to sell us something) — a good thing though since it’s only a narrow trail, at places hard to see, and not at all as “easy” as the people telling us about it suggested. Just when I think we’ve had the hardest part, already close to where the path joins the wall again, I suddenly find myself stretched out along the path flat on my belly! There was a tree root in the shadow that I missed completely… Marie Josee comes running back, and the Mongolian woman wants to pull me up and starts dusting me off. “No, wait,” I gesture, and just sit up first, putting out feelers in my body to see how it feels: no alarm signals come back. Then I allow the two women to pull me up and slowly I stand: I can still walk, but my legs are quite shaky.
The woman offers to take my backpack and camera bag, and Marie Josee starts bargaining with her — she asks 50Ұ: far too much, 15 would be OK. At first she refuses, so Marie Josee takes my bags but later she agrees after all. She helps me over all the difficult spots, too, giving me a hand for support or to pull me up: of course she’s earning some money but she is genuinely caring. After the shortcut, the wall seems easier; I stop every now and then to take pictures again. The Wall and the landscape are still breathtakingly beautiful and impressive.
We have to buy another ticket for the last stretch of the wall and Marie Josee nearly starts a fight with the woman selling the tickets: last year she was in the same spot selling fake tickets but after some to and fro it turns out this time the tickets are for real — and needed.
A little before the point where we have to leave the wall the woman says she has to go back now: the border closes at a certain time and it’s a long walk back. But the last stretch is restored wall again and easier to walk on although I find the inclines harder to walk down than the steps. But Marie Josee is now carrying my bags and I can manage on my own. We find Henk, Carla and Gwendoline have been waiting for us (the ladies are quite tired as well) and with our little group we walk down to the parking place to meet the rest of the group.
We find our driver with a new bus — and just two of the group: the rest has not appeared yet! First we all sit down to have a drink (Marie Josee treats me to a beer) and wait. But soon we get restless: where can they be? If they walked on, they’ll find they can’t go further at one point but will have to walk a long way back: we may be in for a long wait… When they finally appear we hear their story: they did indeed miss the road down to the parking place and walked on to the next tower, spotting us through their field glasses and deciding to wait for us there; when they could no longer see us and we didn’t appear it dawned on them they were too far and went back. Lucky for them (and us) they didn’t walk any further!
Back in the hotel at 9:30 after a long drive through the falling evening, I go out with Carla and Gwendoline to ‘our’ neighborhood restaurant where for a change I have a good appetite: the chicken with cashew nuts is delicious!
Only then, back in my room, I finally take my shoes off and inspect my toes which started to hurt after my fall and are hurting even worse now. There’s nothing to see though: no swelling, no bruise: it can’t be too bad. Hopefully it will be better before Nepal!
Thursday 2005-09-22 - Beijing, China
Recuperating
I promised Marie Josee I’d take it easy today, and I do: I need it. I sleep late. My toes still hurt and my sprained ankle is still a bit sensitive so I wonder about my plans for walking around Xi’an tomorrow. After breakfast in my room I check out and sit in the lobby of our Beijing hotel writing, and drinking endlessly refilled jasmine tea. Then lunch at the neighborhood restaurant (mutton with onion) and some pictures of street scenes. Opposite the hotel I taste, then buy, some unknown fruit which the fruit seller tells me is called hang zhao (I hope I got that right). They’re shaped like a date but taste a little like an apple — very nice.
Back on the train
At 16:30 we leave for Beijing West Station. We don’t have a routine yet but boarding the train goes smoothly. I can sleep on a lower bed (my favorite) in the six-bed hardsleeper compartment and before lights out at 21:30 I’m in bed already. It’s fun to be back on the train in China!
Friday 2005-09-23 - Xi'an, China
Living in Xi’an
After a restless night with lots of coughing fits we arrive at exactly 7:00 in the morning in Xi’an. After dumping our luggage in two temporary rooms in the Jie Fang hotel, I go out with Carla and Gwendoline to walk to the old Muslim quarter.
For Carla and me it feels a bit like coming home: not only is the hotel familiar, but both Carla and I very much liked Xi’an last year and we immediately have the same feeling once we walk out. Clearly this city isn’t as rich as Beijing: while people mostly are well-dressed, they’re not as fashionable; there is also far less building activity here. But Xi’an is still a metropolis — and somehow a very relaxed one.
On the way to the center a sudden movement in the corner of my eye draws my eye to the right and I notice a man playing with a cat: Through an arch there seems to be a living quarter. Made curious, we want to walk through the gate, only to be stopped by the concierge. We gesture we just want to have a look around but he clearly misunderstands us and seems to think we’re coming to visit someone. At last he understands and waves us in with a welcoming smile. We find small tree-lined streets with low blocks of flats, potted plants; each building has a big number painted on the wall, and a row of chairs along the main street. Near the entrance are two groups of mailboxes. It all looks very organized but at the same time cozy with a fifties kind of atmosphere. The people, apart from some personnel and two vendors with stands of vegetables and herbs mostly elderly, all smile at us: it’s obvious they’ve never seen a tourist here but don’t mind us at all, on the contrary. We wonder if it’s maybe a pensioners’ complex or whether the younger people and children are simply at work and school. I take some pictures, but it’s hard to catch the atmosphere.
First time Internet
With our busy program in Beijing and the very tiring hike along the Great Wall, I never had time to go to an Internet cafe to write my travel blog. Not that there aren’t enough Internet cafes in Beijing now, they seem to be sprouting up all over again, from little neighborhood places to big halls with hundreds of work stations.
This afternoon I sit down and write out my first stories; then together with Carla I go to an Internet cafe in Xi’an that Marie Josee told us about. Next to a bookstore, up two flights of no-longer functioning escalators is a large room with maybe several hundreds of machines. They have two rates: 3Ұ per hour for a fast connection, or 2Ұ for a somewhat slower machine (good enough for me). You simply pay a fixed amount for a chip card which operates the machine, and when you’re done you get the remainder back in cash.
A friendly attendant helps me to set up a US-English keyboard: impossible for me since the whole interface is in Chinese. First on is Carla, to write an email home, then it’s my turn. I don’t like the keyboard and make a lot of typos but at least I have a spell checker in Squirrel Mail.
On the way back I find some of the group at the restaurant around the corner from the hotel and we all have dinner together, with a delicious draft beer.
Friday 2005-09-30 - Xining, China
Train to Golmud
At 16:00 we leave our Xining hotel to be brought by bus to the train station where we will board the night train to Golmud. For a change we don’t use the soft-sleeper lounge, it’s not all that busy here. This turns out to be an experience in itself: when the train is nearly ready for boarding, everyone is ordered to line up in single file — it’s just about accepted that we stand two abreast but still somewhat frowned upon. Then getting onto our wagon is a problem at first: there aren’t proper steps although the door is open. One acrobatic guy manages to climb up anyway but doesn’t know how to solve the problem; he disappears, presumably to get help; it takes a while before the wagon attendant — she must have been sleeping — appears and folds up a part of the floor to the door: ah! now there are proper steps and we can get in.
Once we’re all seated (all our compartments shared with some Chinese) and the train has left the station, the next problem annnounces itself: there is not only no water at all in the wash rooms but there is no hot water to prepare tea or noodles either: the water still needs to be heated with a little coal stove (the fumes are making me cough). After a long wait the availability of hot water is announced and the attendant starts to fill the thermos flasks for each compartment. Meanwhile the cart with noodles and drinks hasn’t appeared either so we walk along the train to get them from the restaurant car — passing through some very old and rather dirty hard-sleeper wagons.
While this train is as punctual as all Chinese trains are, the service and quality is decidedly worse than on the trains around Beijing.
Thursday 2006-08-24 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
What to do in Beijing? Go hiking!
Since I’ll be on my own for an extra week in Beijing, I’ll have to create my program, so I’m busy browsing around for information. The other day I happened on a fun option: go hiking around Beijing! It appears there is a hiking club in Beijing, and they have a hike at least every Sunday. Checking out their site, I found they actually have two the weekend just after we arrive back in Beijing. And they’re light hikes, no worries about something too strenuous when I’m still tired after 10 days in a straight jacket…
So, today I not only subscribed to their mailing list, but I also sent off an email to the organizers to (hopefully) reserve a place on both hikes. I’m really excited about the idea of going hiking outside Beijing, especially since I saw some tantalizingly beautiful landscapes last year when we were hiking on the Great Wall.
Wednesday 2006-08-30 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Go hiking or not?
Although I’d received my first issue of the Beijing Hikers newsletter the day after I signed up, I still have no reply on my mail asking if I could join the two hikes on 16 and 17 September in Beijing. Getting worried that there may be a misunderstanding, or confirmation is sent only shortly before a hike (and I probably won’t be able to read my email while still in P’yongyang) I send off another email.
Thursday 2006-08-31 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Beijing hikes confirmed!
Today I got an apologetic email back from Huìjié of the Beijing Hikers: it turns out that my first mail was received, and understood, and answered. Except this reply somehow did not reach my mail box.
Well, no need for an apology — it’s not her fault the mail didn’t reach me! But I don’t have a clue why it didn’t arrive: I was using my Yahoo email on purpose so there was no chance of a mail being discarded because of a black list. And I did check the ‘bulk’ folder that Yahoo mail uses to store mails it thinks are spam.
But a seat has been reserved for me for the hike on Saturday and Sunday, the 16th and 17th of September: I’m all set. I’m excited — I’m really looking forward to these hikes; it should be a great way to start off my stay in Beijing!
