Beijing Encounters ( Part 2 ) Posted on 4 Nov 2011

Beijing Encounters ( Part 2 ) Posted on 4 Nov 2011

Mutianyu - Great Wall

 

This is a stretch of the Great Wall which is further afield - read fewer tourists, less touch-up work. Its appeal factor is boosted by a ski lift ride uphill and a tobaggan ride downhill. The catch - it is a good 180 minutes from Beijing by public bus. Our two intrepid travellers rose to the challenge. 

First, we needed to track down special bus 867 that goes from Dongzhimen to Mutianyu. We set off bright and early at 7 am, bracing ourselves for the usual hit and miss rounds of getting directions from the locals. Bus 867 was supposed to leave the terminus at 8.30 am, or so the guide book said. We made it to the bus-stop at 8.45 am, after a convoluted search, huffing and puffing. There was a long queue before us - a good sign that the bus has not left without us. Rubber time operates here. The bus arrived at 9.30 am and everyone scrambled aboard. The more fortunate found seats, others like us made do with whatever space was left to stand or sit. The fare - 16 yuan before discount. We are not complaining.

Strewn along both sides of the pathways were rows of the de rigeur stalls selling touristy memorabilia. There were also stalls selling dried fruits, nuts and seeds of different varieties and grade, perfect for snacking and pecking en route. The ski-lift was delightful. I spotted a wild cat the size of a German Shepherd down below - what a treat! After we disembarked, the climb began. I started well on the first 100 steps but...you know the rest of the story. A continued to soldier on until the very end. I made myself comfortable and sat on the steps, enjoying the view and the fresh air. It was amazing how many women wore heels. Admittedly, they looked good, but...ouch! I was joined by a lady who decided let the rest of her family and friends do the walking for her. We made small talk, she offered me a chocolate bar. She said she rented a mini-van to take her party of six here, which came with a driver and so-called guide, stopping at other tourist traps along the way. I asked her how much she paid for the transport - it was a whopping 1,250 yuan. 

 

We made our way down the Wall on the tobaggan run - make that a crawl, since we were stuck behind some folks who clung on to the brakes for dear life.Sigh, no express lane here.

According to the schedule, bus 867 makes two return trips at 2 pm and 4.30 pm. We were done by 3 pm, after settling for a sandwich at Subways. Yes, good ole American comfort food! Where there is a demand, supply will flow. While waiting, I realised there was a steady stream of "mini-vans" ferrying passengers to the nearest subway station.There were some haggling over the price, but the going rate seemed to be 10 yuan per person, depending on how many they can pack inside. We hopped onto one mini-van, barely placing our butt on the very limited space alloted. In no time, we arrived at the subway station, and the rest was easy.

Hungry after the long ride, we decided on dinner along the brightly lit stretch of Dongchengmen Street. Do not order anything that says "spicy". It spells overload of lethal chilli oil. We had some hits and misses. Just when we were beginning to unwind, it was rudely interrupted by a local who swaggered in, puffing on a cigarette. Ironically, he sat with his arm candy below a prominently displayed " No Smoking " sign. Another adrenalin surge in preparation for battle. The waiter took smoker's order. When I managed to catch the waiter's eye, I pointed to the "No smoking" sign and signalled to him. Waiter said " Over here, you are allowed to smoke." That was not the correct response. It was enough for me to whip out my camera to capture the offensive scene being played out - the ugly smoker. Immediately, I regretted the action. Life was cheap in China...what if? I could stand to lose my camera or worse. I whispered a silent prayer and was relieved to leave the restaurant without incident.

People watching in Tiananmen

The crowds are always there in Tiananmen. Mao will always have his fan club. We watched, as throngs of people stroll pass the iconic portrait of the departed Communist Chairman and cameras captured the face of the man revered as a legendary hero, though many would deem him villian. It doesn't matter. There is life after Mao and we live in a different time. 

There were the migrants with all their worldly posessions in bulky trash bags, weariness and the fatigue of a hard life registering on their faces. 3-generational families were out on excursions, each without exception pausing for a photo shoot in front of Mao's portrait. A precocious little boy barked orders at his bemused parents to pose with a red flag, oblivious that nearby, we were pointing our camera at him. Young women in boots and high heels tottered along. I continued to marvel at these brave souls with feet of iron, or nerves of steel.

 

Men in militia were strategically positioned everywhere. My mind flashed back to that unforgettable scene somewhere in the past when tanks rolled on this same square, with a student standing defiantly, unmoved,  in front of a moving tank. Fast forward to the present, there is an abundance of materialism brought about by the undertow of capitalism, but it is lacking in soul, and lurking closely in the background like a chronic symptom, is the pervasive hand of a regime that is absolute and autocratic. 

Hutongs

These are courtyards of living quarters scattered all over Beijing. A and I spent half a day wandering around the myriad of alleyways to get a taste of how the locals live. First, it's hard to imagine living in a place where you have no toilets in your own home. There are common toilets for the public at large, and you can pick up the stench from a long distance away. what piqued our interest were the different doorways of the hutongs, old, new, ornate, spartan, refurbished. I wonder about the people, their lives and the stories which lie beyond these doors. Once, we stumbled walked through an open door and were set upon by an elderly Chinese couple who did not take kindly to the intrusion of their privacy. Amid threats and profanities, we quickly retreated back into the main throughfare. 

Already, many hutongs are being slated for redevelopment and residents resettled. This is the changing face of urbanisation. Pubs, restaurants,shops have taken over the humble premises, transfroming the landscape into more fodder for the tourist dollar.

Shopping 

Be prepared to bargain hard or be fleeced. A good yard-stick will be 30% - 40% of the opening price. Rule of etiquette - never engage the seller in negotiations unless you are interested to buy. We did well at Hongqiao ( Pearl Market ). It was a one-stop shop for luggage, men's shirts, shoes, watches, bags, shawls and of course, pearls. One perk at Pearl Market, even in the unlikely event you don't buy anything, is the food at the basement. We decided on shabu shabu dinner, Chinese style, complete wtih generous portions of beef slices, vegetables, and a selection of sauces, at a steal of 30 yuan per person. All in a day's work, and a day well spent!

Supernaturally...

It happened the day we returned from Mutianyu. I sensed that my ykt ( stored value ticket ) was not in my back pocket where it should be. Together, we inspected the room with a fine-toothed comb but found nothing. I related to A about an incident that happened to me last year. It was a library book that seemed to have gone missing. I had searched everywhere for it, but it could not be found. I said a prayer, Rom 4:17. That same day, I had gone into my son's D's room, and voila, the book was lying on the floor, open-face. I was sure it had not been there earlier, and checked with L, my helper, who confirmed she had not seen the book when she tidied D's room earlier.

We even joked that if it could happen once, it can happen again. Oh, me of little faith- I did not expect it, but still, I prayed the same prayer. The next morning, A went off to change some money, and I did some pottering around, packing my stuff. Then I saw the ykt, lying between our two beds. It was clearly not there when we searched the room before. Still, I needed to confirm that it was my missing ykt, and not A's. When A returned, I asked her where her ykt card was. She drew hers out of her handbag. I showed her the ykt which mysteriously reappeared and pointed to the spot when it had been. For the rest of the day, i was walking on air, so deliriously happy and awed.

The ykt is now one of the more precious things in my possession. It is a reminder that My heavenly Father is my stored value card, and I can always draw from Him. It is a present from the One in whom I believe and who has shown me His love in such a special way.