Notes from Beijing

[NOTE: This is the first in a series of posts on our recent trip to Beijing and Hong Kong. More photos on Flickr.]

Beijing Hazing, Part I

The plane was going too fast. As we came in for landing, I whispered to Alan, "it's going to be a rough landing." A few seconds later. Thud! "I told you so." Landings and takeoffs used to fill me with such fear, I would pay close attention to every detail, trying to figure out which one would spell the end of Jenn. Now, I get a kick out predicting which landings will be rocky and which will be smooth. I even enjoy the turbulence. This is one of the benefits of frequent travel.

In the past three years we've been to Thailand, Malaysia, Japan, Peru, Spain, Morocco, that alternate universe known as Burning Man, and now China, where Alan's been invited as a reviewer at the first ever Fotofest Beijing. Steve and I are along for the ride. While Alan spends long days in the hotel auditorium looking at the work of 300 Chinese photographers who've flown in from all over the country, we get to play tourists.

It was midday. We needed to keep our eyes open until at least 9 PM. A nap, even if it's only meant to be a short one, would undoubtedly stretch into the dead of night, setting our internal clocks to crazy time for the duration. Still, after nearly 20 hours, most sleeping fitfully in the posture of a crushed bug, staying awake is no easy task. Our bottoms could not so much as touch the bed. Pillows remained upright and unused. We hit the bar for a couple beers and, hoping to boost our energy, before taking the subway to the Donghuamen Night Market, where weary travelers like ourselves could find ample stimulation for the mind and palate.

Delectable steam rose up from the kitchen stalls lining the narrow passage. Noodles, soups, and skewers tempted us from every side. We started out on the safe side. Lamb and beef skewers, stir-fried noodles, and some beer to wash it down. But this was Beijing, damn it! And just beyond our table rows of baby scorpions, cicada pupae, and tiny sea horses—still alive!--squirmed on their skewers. We ordered a baby scorpion kebab.

"Beijing hazing," Alan announced. Steve went first, sliding the first grilled morsel off the metal skewer. "Tastes like protein," he declared. Alan went next. I resisted first, but peer pressure got the better of me. I only managed to get the tail end off the stick. It reminded me of the ground meat you get on frozen pizzas, only with a crunchy, shrimp-like shell that gets stuck in your teeth. Alan's posted a little movie we made of this on YouTube.

Beijing Haze

There are currently 9000 active construction sites in Beijing, according to CNN. Apartment buildings, Olympic stadiums, business parks are all going up, up, up at a rapid clip. With the exception of a few protected areas, everything old and decrepit is coming down. If this doesn't kick up enough dust, try the Gobi Desert sands that blow in from the north. A perpetual brown haze hangs over the city. Plants are coated in layers of dust, as are our shoes after just a few hours of walking around.

It is as though the city is born anew every morning. Paths taken one day are changed when we repeat the route a couple days later. It is exciting. It is exhausting.

Much of the construction is targeted to be finished by 2008, when Beijing will host the summer Olympic Games. Indeed, the entire city is getting a makeover in preparation, from the shopping hutongs around Tiananmen Square to the choppy English spoken by locals.

But there is a fine line between restoration and Disneyification, and the Chinese have trampled right over it. At the Temple of Heaven, where Steve and I head our second day, Ming-era architecture gleams with fresh coats of paint. This is not to say this sprawling park and temple complex, where sacrifices were made to ensure bountiful harvests, isn't beautiful. But Steve and I were most pleased to stumble upon those areas which hadn't been given a recent makeover, such as the Animal-Killing Pavilion (AKA Animal-Beating Pavilion).

Very Confuc-ing Day

In the Dongcheng district in search of Confucius's temple. We first head into Ditan Park. No temple, but quite a market going on. Flowers give way to fish. Fish give way to woks, shoes, socks, and every imaginable of doodad. We eventually find our way back out of this scenic maze of commerce. Tempted by the scent of burning sandalwood incense, we wind up at the Lama Monastery. It turns out to be our favorite site of the trip. In this large, Ming-era complex, you pass through a succession of temples, each one bigger than the last.

Tibetan Buddhism is very different from the Marin Buddhism Lite I practice. So many unfamiliar characters and rituals. I felt like a poseur and immediately swore to do my homework. But I do know from Buddha, and the last of the Buddhas in this temple was not to be missed. Eighteen meters high and carved from sandalwood, head shrouded in darkness, he sits. Yak butter candles flicker. Heads strain to see the top of him. If Jesus were this big he'd be terrifying, but not Buddha. Even big-ass Buddhas some off as nice, mellow sorts.

Impressed and hungry, we set out for the hutongs, wandering alleyways that contain an older way of life in Beijing. And we have barely entered "old Beijing" when we stumble upon the filming of one of many Chinese soap operas. Having channel surfed a bit, we're already familiar with the plot. There's always a rich, beautiful woman, a poor, honest soldier, a foil to their love, and maybe a half man/half monkey running around making trouble. Indeed, the beautiful, rich woman was clearly telling the poor, honest soldier it wasn't meant to be. We watched for awhile, got scolded for taking photos, and then lunch.

And then we tried to go to Confucius's temple, but it was not where it was supposed to be. Indeed, we could not find it at all. So we gave up, figuring we'd seen enough for one day.