Impressions of Beijing
First time in China, and I have to remind myself: all of Beijing is in China but not all of China is in Beijing. Yawn. Let me rephrase myself, this sounds like the effect of being confined to an ten-hour-plong plight seat. Beijing is in China, but China being such a massive country, not all of China is like Beijing. Located north-east of the country, and rather away from the coastline, temperatures reach extremes. Had I known this before, I would have chosen to visit the Chinese capital in either spring or autumn.
Beijing is old, but it feels young and in the prime of life. The traffic circulating through the wide arteries of this city make reaching the other side in one piece a true achievement. The tube is fantastic. Clean, spacious, efficient. The underground stations are made of marble, soooo beautiful. There are lots of policemen circulating in Beijing. Unlike the London bobbies, who are happy to provide additional services such as giving directions and helping the elderly cross the streets, Beijing police are there to account for the city’s security. If you want to breach the wide avenues why not then using either the underpass or the high walks.
The imperial capital city is competently beautiful: it has got the cleanest, widest, longest avenues I have ever seen. There seems to be an incentive to keep the ancient atmosphere alive. The skyline is not high, as high-till-it-reaches-the-clouds, as other top Asian cities, which conveys a certain provincial air and which is pleasant to the eye. Every old building has been very carefully preserved, and every modern construction displays an effective combination of the latest cry in terms of architecture with a touch of local tradition. Just picture a futuristic glass skyscraper fronted by a huge slanted-roofed porch. The decorated hand-pa
inted tiles will typically match the neighbouring Buddhist temple. Or imagine what it feels like to drive along those vermillion-painted walls, skirted by snow-covered winter trees, lined by dimly lit red torches. All glittery magic. This is the portrait of a lady getting ready to host the next Olympic games. Armies of scrubbers toiling to keep the town’s façade spotless and the late December snow at bay. It is like in a fairy tale. In front of me, the taxi driver scratches the dandruff off his scalp.
The Chinese can be proud of their historical monuments. The Forbidden City, right in the heart of the city, is a precious ruby in itself. This is where the royal family once lived in seclusion since the 15th century AD. The premises make the imagination run wild with visions of the past. Heavy wooden doors and marble stairs patiently carved convey the strength of thousand men working in sync. The stones are said to come from far away so building the site must have been no easy feat. Glass, wall and tile depict colourful stories no-one but the eternal lions of stone remembers anymore. Lots of red, which is the colour of fire and (good) fortune. Golden, blue and green are too predominant colours. The diminute animal statues standing at the edges of roofs protect the building from evil spirits and indicate the site is awarded some importance.
The Summer Palace, northwest of the city, winds its paths and covered musical galleries around the most idyllic lake. This used to be the summer residence of the emperor and where China would be ruled from during summer time. The lake was frozen and people were walking on it. The buildings and temples are built against the mountainside and must enjoy some spectacular views. A bit wonderful that this is located right in the middle of the city.
What brought my short visit to completion was the Chinese Wall, 30 km from Beijing and extending its 6,000 km dragon-tail through the vastness. The trip to Mutianyu site felt like touching but a tiny part of the tail, but was worth it. The white-covered mountain scenery was breathtaking, as well as the lengthy climb upstairs to the wall. The dragon has long gone to sleep, but the new China keeps it alive by keeping tradition as an integral part of innovation.
Money Matters
Chinese currency notes are small and cute. They are imprinted in Chinese and other alphabets, such as Arabic, to cater for all the different communities living in the country.
Tourists unaware of local prices run the risk of being charged up to three times what they should. Agnes and Kenneth (a couple of friends who joined me from Kuala Lumpur), despite the fact that she speaks fluent Mandarin, paid 200 Yuen for their taxi from the airport to their hotel. They were speechless when I told them I got from the airport to the city centre for 16 Yuen (“What the heck…?” Psssst! They don’t need to know I got lost, frozen to the core, and that I did end up in a taxi after all). But do not think I got out of it unspared: I paid 78 Yuen for a 20 or 30 Yuen film roll, in what looked like a respectable shop. Coco, the friend I was traveling with, got, amongst a couple of notes back with her change, half a note. And the Mao red book which she graciously bargained on the street (original price 100 Yuen, but she got it for 40 Yuen plus some extras) was spotted at the Forbidden City souvenir shop for 45 Yuen, initial price.
Capitalism has arrived in China and appears to be in full swing. I am so thankful for it, for without it I would have left the country with a skinny suitcase (luggage being, as you may know, a living thing which needs to be nourished). Thanks to Capitalism and a growing tourism industry there are bags of souvenirs to cater for all tastes and pockets. Do not worry if you miss out on a souvenir stand: chances are that you will, rather sooner than later, come across one, two, several other souvenir trade centres, offering their expertise at the same or maybe even lower price. The service to tourists is so convenient that professional souvenir retailers will try to conduct business with you as you attempt to stroll along the Pekinese avenues for air. You do not need to look for them, they are ready to jump to your aid anytime, anywhere. With a bit of skill you may be able to bargain the price asked for, and live happily ever after with the feeling of having contributed to the wellbeing of the Chinese economy in all earnest. The Chinese will undoubtedly get the same items for even less of what you offered, but never forget they pay taxes and have to live on Chinese wages, which you obviously do not.
Communism having given way to Capitalism, nothing has been lost in the process. Chairman Mao, once China’s great communist leader, has been recycled into a major tourist attraction. What a treatment, after doing so much for the nation: he unified the peasants, and introduced the simplified Chinese “alphabet,” among others. Once dead he wasn’t of so much use, huh, so he was turned into a profitable attraction. His embalmed body is exhibited at the Maosuleum, by Tiananmen Square (the biggest in the world). Admittance is free, though you may wish to purchase a bunch of flowers at the stand at the entrance, and place it symbolically at the memorial hall. Appreciative workers will collect your bunch, along with the rest of the plastic bunches, at the end of your visit. They will take these back to the flower stand to give the next batch of visitors the chance to purchase the same bunch of flowers at the same price, too. The quick procession by the guarded glass contained offered only a glance at Mao’s embalmed body, and before I knew I was in front of a comprehensive Mao-souvenir stand.