Pandas vs Pandas

Everyone who follows this blog probably knows that Warren may just be *slightly* obsessed with it. Also Warren has a competitive streak. So one night, while Warren and I were waiting for Ms. Kristin to get her nails done (that will be a separate photo blog) in this really upscale all Chinese salon, I asked Warren how would he feel if I started my own blog in competition with his (Not that I would do that, I am too lazy to create an ID, make a template and then actually do the writing but still ...). This led to brainstorming various competing blog names. If we come up with more, I will update this entry but so far the contenders are:

Where pandas thrive (.blogspot.com)

Where pandas maim

Where pandas kill other pandas

Where pandas own pandas

Where pandas eat pandas

Where pandas die

There were a bunch more, but I forget. Till then if anyone else has a better idea do inform us about it. Who knows, if I get a good enough blog name, I might actually start writing and compete with Warren ;)

Until then, here are some fake pandas to gush about because they are just so adorable !

School begins: a true test of my patience and biking skills

I remember how excited I would get in the week leading up to the beginning of school. The warm evening breeze would blow in through my bedroom window as I dreamed of the classes I’d take (and what grades I could get) and what social achievements I’d have (“will I have my first girlfriend this year?” [answer: no]).

Now that I’m in grad school, things are a little different, mostly because I attend school year-round. As in, no three-month summer or one-month Christmas breaks (something I--and my parents--are still getting used to). Also, it’s mostly individual research, so my drive to get a 110% grade is frustratingly impossible.

I arrived in Beijing on Aug 4th and classes begin today (I think). My calendar is not based the official academic one (becauseI can’t actually read it), but on the size and type of crowds on campus. For the first two weeks, there were lots of tourists (identified asfamilies and crowds lead by loud speakers) and a fair number of Westerners here for summer language programs. During that time started riding a bicycle and augmented my cycling skills (spent one year on a bike in Louisiana on my Church mission). [The topic of bicycling in China is actually large enough to receive its own post, so stay tuned.] Suffice it to say that I can weave in and out of foot traffic with the best of them.

Correction: I could weave in and out. This is because I gained a false sense of ability during my third week when all the summer students left. Hence I could tell when classes began by the sudden increase in my brake usage. But--but--guess who won a game of chicken with a Chinese student today? Oh yeah, I got it!

One of the striking things I’ve noticed is the huge number of students in uniform. The mesmerizing stream of identical military uniforms is itself distracting. My lab mates say that a month-long military training is mandatory for all university students in their freshman or sophomore year. I imagine it a little bit like a condensed version of Boy Scouts, but its military influence might lead to fewer s’mores and pushups (though lab mate says they’re easy on the girls) [Update: I’m just realizing that this is a condensed and mandatory Chinese ROTC]. Well, I suppose it encourages patriotism, cohesiveness, and collective thought among China’s youth.

A gaggle of female soldiers/students arrive on campus upon completion of their training. The plastic wash basins are for hand laundering soiled garments.

Also, I finally have to register for school. I’m actually an international student (!), which sounds all cool, but it adds a significant layer of complexity to the existing hassles of registration. I’ve already spent two days fighting queues to obtain a variety of stamps and certificates, but I have very little clue about the details, all of which are in Chinese (I’d take this opportunity to complain that nothing is in English, but this is in China, so I have nobody to blame but myself). It's mildly disconcerting to blindly sign so many documents. In the rousing board game of "School LIFE: registration!", Tanu is a few spaces behind me. Georgia Tech health services didn’t give her a copy of her EKG. Luckily, our contact at Tech obtained and emailed a scanned copy to her (HIPAA violation? TBD).

Finally, the start of classes means that a new set of Westerners are on campus. I just try to act like I don’t notice them as I think hipster thoughts like, “psh. I totally knew about baozi for breakfast ages ago.”

Heavenly voices

As I crossed the gates and passed through the grand courtyard of the Temple of Heaven in Beijing, I started to hear angelic voices. Now, the songs rattling around my brain can often be vivid, but if I were to provide the Mandarin lyrics, they’d be composed entirely of phrases such as “Where’s the subway?” and “I want that one”. Not very poetic. Finally I got close enough to see a group of singers/instrumentalists.

No, these voices were definitely from outside my skull.

Upon completion of my tourist duties (i.e. conspicuously taking video with my phone), I wandered further to meet Tanu and Kristin. Here we were, at the Temple of Heaven--where the Emperor offered sacrifices to appease the harvest gods! What better way to celebrate the hallowed ground than by a photo shoot of jumping photos!?

Note: this is actually the second jump shot attempt. In the first, instead of “sticking” my landing, I definitely landed with my center of balance too far back, which resulted in a tailbone-crushing fall (and shudders from the forming audience of Chinese tourists). I blame my dress shoes. But, ever the performer, I feigned comfort and took a second shot at it, and executed a 10.0 quality toe-touch to jubilant (or at least meager but enthusiastic) applause. Chinese olympic gymnasts, eat your hearts out.

There were several temples in the complex, and one had a placard that described the ceiling as having intricate designs, culminating in an elaborate dragon in the center holding a pearl. Based on my knowledge of Chinese Temple architecture (my sole source is "Kung Fu Panda"), I anticipated a huge wooden dragon hanging from the the ceiling with a basketball-sized pearl clutched between snarling teeth. Something like...

what I saw:

curse you, Disney (er.. DreamWorks) for providing me with unrealistic expectations! I suppose it is very intricate and impressive and... colorful, but no flashbacks to Jurassic Park were made.

After our jaunt through the temples, we rested (popsicles were involved, of course). And we made some new friends! Excited to practice their English (and encouraged by parents who pay for private lessons, no doubt), we noticed two young girls who shyly and slowly approached us. Many giggles and well-rehearsed lines later, we were the best of friends. Here’s a photo to prove it.

guy to the left wants to be our friend, too.

On our way out of the Temple complex (and among getting lost in a matrix of trees and bushes), we found another large choral group. It was my turn to speak a foreign language, so I chatted with an older lady who was listening and singing and through broken Chinese asked:
“Can we listen?” Her response (well, what I infer from what I could pick out): “Of course! You can sing if you’d like, too!” After dodging what would most certainly be an embarrassing situation (remember the badminton hacky sack ordeal?), I also asked how often they sing, and apparently they get together on Sunday afternoons (are you proud of me, mom?).

And here’s another video clip to send you on your way.

The name in the Wall

In my mind’s eye, the Great Wall of China is an incredibly long and remote barrier in China that is accessible only by bushwhacking or airlift. Imagine my surprise, then, when we hopped on a bus in Beijing and our Great Wall destination was on the normal route--and not even the terminus! We were among the lucky few to have seats on a packed bus, but that came with consequences. Kristin’s: “my shoulder was in so many crotches.” I was kept awake by elbows to the head and a ponytail fwapping my face by a standing girl (but the stimulus that takes the cake is the woman who hocked up loudly and spat right on the bus floor.)

Wang, the newest member of our lab, acted as guide. As a native Beijinger, he’d been many times before but moved to Shanghai when he was 12. Our goal was simple: find the brick that bears his carved name that he tagged as a boy.

“But wait!” you say. Having done your homework, you interject, “Isn’t the Wall thousands of miles long? Finding one brick among so many is… well.. inconceivable!” Calm down, Sparky. Wang remembered in which watchtower he carved his name, and considering how relatively few surnames there are in China, our chances were pretty good we’d find it.

Upon arrival at Badaling, some in our group were tempted by the cable cars. Chairman Mao said that “[S/]he who hasn’t climbed the Great Wall isn’t a real [wo/]man,” so being good little Communists, we departed on foot. Badaling is the most popular section of the Wall, probably due to its proximity to Beijing and its reconstruction. We passed by an “exquisite genuine jade” vendor, a California Beef Noodle King USA restaurant, and camels (Genghis Khan so idolized the animal which he used to conquer Asia that a decree was made to mimic its attributes. Thus began the spitting trend in China).

Mongolian soldiers no longer attempt to overtake the Great Wall, but have been replaced by armies of tourists. Their weapon of choice: umbrellas.

As the Chinese are very skilled in sun umbrella usage, they usually pose no threat. However, at tightly packed bottlenecks (aka sweat-swapping parties), it’s quite easy to get poked in the eye or wedged between two umbrellas (it’s more awkward than you’d think). Benefit of having fellow warriors with umbrellas? Occasional free shade.

After an hour or two of fighting/climbing, we stopped for a quick lunch of pb/kewpie jelly/banana sandwiches next to a period-original kiddie ride.

 

Having had more views of the backs of others’ heads than of the majestic Wall, we were a bit jaded at this point. But following a hairpin turn at the summit, the Wall U-turned and we found this part of the trek much less crowded which afforded views like this:

note: those fortresses have been used as latrines.

We soon found one reason for the sparse tourist population: the steepness of this section. Our hamstrings and gluts trembled in masochistic glory as we braved 30% grades (70% grades on stairs).

Recent blog entries have been wayyy too void of cat references, so I’ll slip one in. Here, Kristin recreates Ninja Cat (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzzjgBAaWZw) on the Great Wall while exhibiting its steepness:

After all this traversing, Wang reported that the fortress bearing his signature was within view. However, we soon discovered that the section was closed to tourists. Not willing to risk any unpleasant repercussions, we decided against scaling the closed section and returned instead to the bus for a comfortable ride home.

I should note, too, that no passengers stood on the return trip; no shoulders suffered from improper impositions.

In lieu of the county fair

One of my family’s traditions is to visit the Clackamas County Fair (and rodeo!). It’s considered a cardinal sin if we don’t make it there. Memories include being a siamese cat in the talent show, dominating at the baking competitions, and really wanting to buy animals from the animal barn and always being denied only to find out that my parents gave in to Malcolm the year I went on my mission.

Also, eating: gyros, beaver burritos (like Oregon State beaver, not real beavers), onion blooms, doughboys (preferably free due to some connection my family has with the owners. I don’t understand it, but I don’t question it), RC cola (probably the only time of the year that I drink RC), curly fries, and ice cream from the Oregon Dairy Wives Association.

I’ve been a sinner by not attending the last few years due to grad school. So to honor this age-old tradition, I decided to go on a street food binge here in Beijing with Tanu and Kristin for the last two nights. I escaped with intact intestines last night, but we’ll see how things go tonight.

To start things out, Kristin, Tanu, and I returned to our favorite pot-stickers place in the little market in Walmart’s shadow. With our improved Mandarin skills, we found out with 99% certainty that the “vegetarian” stickers before were, well, may’ve had a bit of moo in it. or oink. we still need to learn the words for animals. But we did secure some delicious cabbage-filled pot stickers for our meat-hating friend.

Strolling through the market, we then found a stand that had a camel silhouette on the wall, the chefs wore little Aladdin beanies, and the bbq vent was in the shape of a middle-eastern dome. But there was also a picture of Mongolia, so I’m not sure what ambiance they were going for. Tanu and I ordered some skewers with what we only imagined was meat. The spices were delish, but the meat was pretty chewy and white, so Kristin tried some on Tanu’s 95% confidence that it must be a sea animal. When we asked our Asian Alladin, what it was, he hacked at his neck and mooed. Oops. Some things are better left unasked, I guess. (side note: we asked lab mates later, and we think it was tendon or some type of connective tissue. can check that off of my to-do list)

We found another stand that was frying flat tofu and dressing it with cilantro and sauce! While the lady cooked it up, however, we noticed a stench in the area that we told ourselves was of course not coming from her booth. However, the doubt led us to only eat a few bites before tossing it. (Didn’t toss cookies later though, so A-OK!).


Last stop was Walmart (we have an addiction) where I found the back side of a meat cart that I reported on earlier!:

preserved fish, duck, ?. I need to find out if these are things for people to eat, but it sure reminds me of rawhide for Bodri and Shep.

Now imagine if Mr. Croissant met Miss Fig Newton, fell in love, got married, and had babies. This is what they’d produce:

Lab mate says they’re a type of moon cake. I just know that the flaky dough rivals the crust of my mom’s pies.

Also, a fried batter thing (similar to hush puppy?) with shredded carrots!

why yes, that’s a journal article in the background that I’m reading!

After a long day of trying to find RNAi targets for my delivery system and a meeting at a Chinese military research facility (sounds more exciting/potentially scandalous than it actually was, but may be worth a post), we went to the Old Summer Palace (adjacent to the Summer Palace) (you guessed it, the Anglo-French forces torched this place too in 1860).

It turns out that there was a lantern festival, so I was able to get a bit of the fair atmosphere there. And eat more (of course).

More meat on sticks:

Tanu: “I can’t decide if it was a good idea for me to eat this.” We are still undecided as to the origin of the meat, or how thoroughly cooked it was. We are decided that we’ve had our fill of meat-on-stick.

And here's a decidedly yummy cross between frosted graham crackers and pound cake:

Cake: “I won’t give you food poisoning! …maybe….”

Finally, to round off this totally exciting post, I give you some shots of the lantern festival:

First evening in China = Bike + Grapes

I arrived in China on August 17. One of my labmates - Li Chao picked me up and we took a cab back to the University. After dealing with Beijing traffic, getting wrong directions about where to register for the dorm and lugging around 50 lb bags we finally found Warren/the front desk.

Warren, is my Beijing expert as he has been here the longest which is a whole 2.5 weeks. That may not seem long but he has helped me set up my internet, tried to figure out what was wrong with my AC, took me to his lab where I met Kristin and then took us for dinner. I don't know what we had for dinner that night - there was some fungus, tofu and some kind of meat. It was pretty good though.

After dinner, Warren wanted to get his bike back to the dorm but since I still don't have my two wheels, Warren now assumed the role of driver. He also decided to take some grapes which I was supposed to hold while sitting on the bike and not falling off. That bike ride was very interesting, to say the least. First of all, the seat is made of metal so it ends up poking your butt, then there are speed bumps/inclines which aggravate the said poking and finally, the bike not being tall enough causes your feet to touch the ground while you try and straddle the metal framed seat. We did make it back to the dorm though, without falling. The AC was still broken in my room when we got back. They sent a repair guy but all we said to each other was - wo ting bu dong i.e I don't understand. But the conclusion was that it couldn't be fixed that night and would be done the next day. I had to haul two giant comforters up to the 5th floor to sleep in Warren's air conditioned room on the tiled floor. But I have to say, that I slept like a baby because of all the flying, the food and the bike ride.

Speaking of the bike ride, the next morning we found evidence of our epic bike ride in the form of little green grapes scattered here and there on our path.

How do you say "grudge" in Chinese?

I probably noticed the channel in the false ceiling after my first shower. Toweling off, I glanced up and saw an 18”x18” hole to allow access to pipes. Three slats provided a cover for the hole, but the center slat looked off… It’d been lifted up and rotated a bit so that large slivers of darkness were visible.

chilling, isn't it?

“Wow, that’s kinda creepy,” I thought to myself. But, not wanting to freak myself out (remember when I lived alone for 6 mo in that old house in Hillsboro? I’m really good at psyching myself out. And/or experiencing genuine paranormal activity), I just dismissed it and figured that whoever had most recently checked out the pipes just didn’t take the time to replace the covers correctly. I didn’t even think about how it there could be cameras up there. I mean, I couldn’t even see the reflection from a lens, so there was no need for it to even cross my mind.

Well, yesterday morning I finally got on a chair and slid the panel over, careful to not expose any fingertips that could be sliced or bitten by a hiding monster. Problem solved.

When I returned that night, the slat had moved again. I quickly fixed it after brushing teeth and locked my bedroom door before sleeping.

This morning, it’d moved. Then I moved it back, noticing a slight breeze as a replaced it.

Finally, this evening when I came home, it’d moved a third time. And there was a long black hair hanging from it.

Side note: I don’t lurve scary movies, but sometimes they’re fun to watch. However, I’ll usually only watch the movies with totally unbelievable plots, like where monster girls crawl out of TVs. After all, that’s much less likely to happen than the real-life murder stories.

This is when having watched something like, oh I don’t know, how about The Grudge is bad. Why?
a) People get sucked into dark recesses and mauled.
b) Long black hairs appear places and attack (I know, it sounds ridiculous, right?).
c) The story takes place in Asia.

The last isn’t inherently bad, except when I’m living in China and the first two items occur.

But with Tanu’s emotional support (Tanu arrived today! hooray!), I replaced the slat and then thought to myself like a rational scientist/engineer, “what could cause a lightweight piece of plastic flip around?…. how about a pressure differential?!” Tanu stayed in the bathroom while I went around slamming doors, and sure enough, the front door creates a large enough gust of wind than the portal opened!

Case closed. I feel like such a grownup.

But I still haven’t solved the mystery of the long black hair….

Stand back, I'm doing SCIENCE

To dispel any doubts, I wanted to briefly report that I'm actually doing more here than sightseeing and blogging about it.

I'm also doing science. Here's a picture to prove it:

What you see here is not one, but NINE reactions in parallel. That's right- nine. Because why do one at a time when you could risk mixing up the tubes (but save gobs of time)?! This step involves conjugating carbohydrates to tiny vehicles to deliver drugs to stem cells that reside in the heart.

Where Empress Cixi celebrated her birthday

Guest Entry: Ms. Kristin Loomis, B.S.

Warren says we’re here to spend our time blogging, not to do science—so I’m going to write about our trip to the Summer Palace.  Despite a seriously ominous weather forecast and sky…we traveled the 2 metro stops to see the site where imperial royalty spent their summers -- a favorite place for Empress Cixi to spend her birthdays (btw, it seems like Empress Cixi's birthdays were a big deal-- so many placards say 'Empress Cixi spent her birthday here').  Summer palace is beautiful! It has a big lake where you can go boating and lovely gardens--lots of bonsai trees and rock statues, and other greenery—it’s a great escape from the city.

We hiked (saying bu yao –‘don’t want’—to hawkers along the way) to the top of Longevity Hill. Whenever I say something Chinese (which isn't too often-- Warren is much more proficient), people seem to give me a bemusedly amused stare. I'm not sure if my pronunciation is way off, or they just think it’s unusual for an American to reply in Chinese…but I’m enjoying the reactions to my broken phrases.  I had to get a popsicle once we were atop the hill. Popsicles are ubiquitous here, so refreshing, and only cost about 16 cents.  Let’s hope Warren never reveals how many of them I seem to be having a day... The cheapest and most common flavor tastes like frozen sugar water with a hint of bubblegum. Delicious. (Also available is red bean flavored, which is not my favorite). 

Along longevity hill are a few temples—Cloud-Dispelling Hall, the Temple of Buddhist Virtue, and the Sea of Wisdom Temple.  The Anglo-French forces looted and destroyed a lot of the buildings during the second Opium war and the Boxer rebellion, so most of the buildings were rebuilt when China was preparing for the Olympics. It’s kind of funny touring when everything seems so new and vibrant—but perhaps that makes it easier to imagine how things were in the 1800s.  Warren and I ambled around enjoying the scenery—happy that the day was kind of misty because we're sure it discouraged the crowds.

After a little bit of effort to find the closest metro stop…we headed back to campus for a late dinner.  We just made it in time to get some microwaved leftovers (meals are definitely taken a little bit earlier here than in the U.S.). I had some fungus (I think?) and tofu and Warren had some eggplant and peppers.








Think I’ve done enough blogging for now-- time to get back to science!

Lost in the Forbidden City [UPDATED]

1. A matter was settled on the evening we went out for Sichuan cuisine: I saw an albinic Asian playing the trumpet. Kristin and I had discussed whether albinism exists among Asians, and although his hair was dyed, other key features clued me in.

2. While riding the subway this morning, a young boy was bouncing happily around the train. I noticed him because of a semi-permanent electrode stuck on his head.

3. At one stop on the ride, a mother and another young boy squeezed on to the train. There was a space between me and Kristin, but the boy--bashful and hesitant to stand between two foreigners--shyly hid behind his mom.

Besides 90 seconds of the series finale, I’ve never watched the tv show, Lost (I sometimes think that’s odd, considering it contained elements that would usually attract me, such as dinosaurs.) But here’s what I assume is an accurate synopsis: strangers board a plane, and then find themselves interconnected and stranded on an island. Today felt like I was in the series of Lost, because even though I passed these three people miles (and a day) apart from each other, we were brought back together in the Forbidden City. AMONG THOUSANDS OF TOURISTS. what’re the chances?? (no really, I would like a statistician to determine this for me. prove that you earned your degree.)

--

This saturday morning, Kristin and I finally boarded the subway at about 10:30. Pretty late if you’re wanting to battle thousands (or more?) of other tourists on a weekend at the most densely concentrated tourist destinations in the city: the Forbidden City and Tianenmen Square. The Square is adjacent to the City on the latter’s southern edge, and its vastness (it’s the 1st or 2nd largest square in the world, depending on whom you ask). Really, emerging out of the subway station is what I imagine living in an anthill would be like: you march in queues along with so many people towards the mona lisa-esque portrait of Mao hanging above the Tianenmen Gate.


Kristin: “I’ll bet he was photoshopped.”

Along the way, you also see some jawesome lions:

How many cats can you count? 48, if you can see the lions on the roof. This is a little variation on the game we usually play, How Many Cameras Can You Count?


This is the advanced version of that game.

Anyway, after we got past the sphinx of Mao (does anyone remember the Sphinx scene from The Neverending Story?) We got into.. another square. Seriously, sometimes I feel like wall lobbyists were involved in the planning of the Forbidden City - there’s one after another! But we queued to buy tickets, then queued to rent an audio guide, and then queued to obtain the audio guide (streamline engineer needed). Actually, the first two were lines, but the third was more like a mosh pit. I honestly think I had more body contact in those five minutes than in even my fiercest group hugs.

It was a lost in the first line that we saw boy number 2. “Oh, look, there’s that boy with the electrode. How interesting that we see him here.” It really wasn’t very exciting.

Equipped with tickets and earphones coated with others’ sweat, we were free to roam where commoners were once banned! and then walked over the Golden Stream...

(and through another gate, the Gate of Supreme Harmony) to the Court of the Imperial Palace:
or Sea of Flagstones. You can choose.

Kristin--who was in charge of the Forbidden City history--mentioned something about how one dynasty was all about supremacy, which is why the halls and courtyards used to have that in their names. But then another dynasty was all about ying/yang, so they included “harmony” into the names. fancy.

Kristin loved the Hall of Supreme Harmony so much that she demanded a picture of her doing the hand motions in front of the building:

(it’s supposed to look more meditative than “raise the roof.”) the three levels of marble stairs is supposed to be symbolic of its holiness. Also, there are lots of lions on the edge of the roof. can you see them? they scare away evil spirits. they may also be dragons.



Just beyond this point, we saw boy #3. Just like a T-rex, my eyes catch movement, and I spotted his I-Gotta-Pee dance as we passed the hall. “Oh, that’s a bit more interesting to see two people that we saw earlier today, especially among all the people.” But right then his mom handed him an empty bottle to fill, and so I looked away and pondered more supremely harmonious things, like how best to mimic a bird statue:

(can you tell which is the bird, and which is me?? didn’t think so).

At this point, I was content we’d come here. I mean, how else could I connect to Puyi in The Last Emperor than to be at his casa? But to be honest, much of the place was the same (admittedly finely crafted) things over and over: carved stones, colorful eaves, viewpoints into dark halls for which I had to body surf to see. But then… we saw boy #1. At this point, I freaked out a lil and started to fear the Mist Monster from Lost would pop up to say “hello”. I mean, what are the odds? (statisticians?) But, considering how often I freak out a lil, I’m pretty good at hiding it and didn’t mention anything to Kristin until later.

Also, I was distracted by the glory that--beyond the Palace of Heavenly Beauty, Hall of Union, and Palace of Earthly Peace--is the Imperial Gardens! Seriously, amazing. Kristin: “I was thinking, ‘oh, they have gardens like this in San Fran,’ but then I was like, ‘Wait, these are Chinese Chinese Gardens. In the Forbidden City!’”

Just “ooh” and “ahh” at the pictures, okay?

Upon exiting the Forbidden City on the north, we beheld a large hill that was constructed from the earth displaced from the building of the moat:


never deterred from a lil hike (and with the aid of a few popsicles. mine was Red Bean flavored.), we made it to the top of the hill (Jingshan Park) for the view:

“they should’ve sent a poet…”

The temple at the top housed a buddha watching over the Forbidden City.


at the bottom of the hill, we found a huge peony garden and also lots of older Chinese people enjoying a stroll. Better still, they were strolling towards a square where a small band was playing:

























--I'm not sure why there's this extra space here--


You know the American pastime that teens play called “hackysack”? Well (like most things), the Chinese must have invented that and badminton. Evidence:


Oh yes, those are real bird feathers.

On either side of the gazebo featuring the band were two groups of middle-aged badminton/hacky-sackers:


Unfortunately, I got too close and they kicked the birdy to me. Despite my conflict between wanting to connect with the Chinese and wanting to not look like an idiot, I kicked the birdy around a bit. Most of the times it landed lifeless in the middle of our circle, but once or twice a hit a home run out of the park. This is when I really wished that I’d played soccer more. But, unlike my experience with soccer where I kicked the ball triumphantly into (*ahem*) the wrong goal, I knew when to quit and thanked them for the invitation.

It was very cool and the ambiance had a very organic feel to it. We felt pretty special for getting to share this with the Chinese (and acted like we didn’t have to share it with a few other Westerners whom we saw).

After we had our fill of the park, we left and a rickshaw driver approached us with an offer to visit a hutong (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hutong). My understanding is that hutongs are old neighborhoods with winding roads. I’ve read that it’s a “must see”, but nervous about losing my way in a maze, I wanted to be guided. So after a little friendly bargaining, Kristin and I sat down and were pulled by bike.



From what I gather in the broken English, traditional housing included walled family dwellings with a courtyard. The could include a few floors and many rooms to accommodate an extended family, but following the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, Mao divided up the houses for several families to live in. In the last decade or two, however, people have started to restore some of the original dwellings.




Some had fancy doors:

the stone fixtures at the bottom indicate the profession of the head of household (military in this case, clerk in the previous). The number of beams above the doorway (two in this case) indicate his rank. The raised door stoop prevents ghosts from entering.

We were told that Hu Jintao lived in the very hutong through which we were passing! As most of the buildings were constricted before indoor plumbing (I think), the place wad dotted with public bathrooms. It was fun to pass by little shops and residents, though I must admit I felt a little invasive. The neighborhood actually felt pretty similar to winding, cobblestoned villages in Italy. Funnily, our rickshaw driver brought us to a tea shop where he told us to check out the inside. However, my scam-o-meter went off as I realized that this was a trap to charge tourists exorbitant amounts of money for a little tea. Scam avoided!

I think he was a little annoyed that we didn’t play his little game, and that we’d been pretty ruthless in our bargaining, so we were dropped off at a bus stop at the end of our tour instead of Tianenmen Square. He actually told us then that rickshaws weren’t allowed to go to the Square (which was probably true) and also which bus to take. A little dazed, and nervous that we would hop onto the wrong bus, we walked.

Arriving at Tianenmen some time later, we found that people were just… sitting there. A person would lay out their city map or shopping bag and just… sit there on the concrete. Just.. sit. Okay, well, “when in Beijing…” Luckily, the lowering of the flag happened soon after our arrival, so we didn’t have to sit-and-do-nothing for long.

So, that was the bulk of our day! after that, we grocery shopped a bit. I was pretty dehydrated (I downed 1.5L of water). Kristin’s obsession with popsicles had curbed her dehydration.

umm.. hm, how to tie this all together…

Although we found ourselves “Lost” and bewildered by running into random people among the masses, we also found some experiences wherein we connected with locals and the history.

the end.


[EDIT]: I was asked why the people hang around Tianenmen Square. I think it's because people may be waiting to see the raising or lowering of the flag, to ponder the vast space, or admire the huge buildings that line the square (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ten_Great_Constructions). Personally, I prefer the lakeside at the Summer Palace for reflection (see what I did there?).