Beijing capital airport

Ladies and Gentlemen, due to unforeseen circumstances, our take-off has been delayed and we are being relegated to no. 17 in the take-off queue. Kindly be patient and refreshments will be served.

- MAS Pilot, Beijing Airport tarmac

Why was the flight delayed? It's because those goons at row 18-32 couldn't sit down despite the pilot's desperate announcement for take-off, (hence sit down you idiots!).

But we got up at a nerve breaking, god forbidden hour to crawl out of bed into the dark, cold streets towards Tiananmen Square. Of course I could dramatize it again but Mr. Lin has been so kind to chauffeur us there and we were kind of surprised to see so many people running towards the flag pole. At 7:10am, the guards came marching in and the flag was hoisted to the national anthem. I never felt as proud as I did that moment being a Chinese, and I admit, I got a bit emotional. The whole affair was touching, beautiful and the whole city was fresh, untouched by the hoards of tourists that will undoubtedly crammed in by 10am later, and we all looked up at the proud flag gently flapping in the early dawn breeze. We saw the Mao's Mausoleum (no pun) and what's left of the ancient wall of the Gugong, built during the Ming dynasty.

Given time was of essence, we by-passed the local Beijing morning gruel by the streets and headed towards the Temple of Heaven park. Here, we saw early risers, young and old, practicing taichi, wushu, and this funny ping-pong kind of "air" table tennis. The best part of this was that most of the gigs are even done in groups. There was a strong sense of unity and life. Even the oldies were gathering in the imperial corridors to sit and ponder, some played cards, others took a stab at belting out old melodies to their mates playing the erhu, whilst some just sat and pondered.

We visited the main temple in which the emperor offered his annual prayers for a good year of harvest during the winter solstice. Apparently the emperor and his retinue will be marching from the inner courts of the Gugong towards the Tiananmen Square, and past the old walls towards the Temple of Heaven. It was a sombre affair and any slip of a foot will harbour a bad harvest for the coming year. Hence, all mere mortals were instructed to stay indoors, and only the emperor and his chosen ones were to make their way to the temples. We went through to the North Gate, but missed the Wall of Echo. It was a good 750m hike and my feet on the last day were giving up on me. The blisters were bad! Enough said...

To top the whole week, we invited Mr. Lin to join us at our favourite local xiaoche joint at the Old Beijing Inn, near Beihai. It was a lovely time sharing the times (albeit short) we had together, Mr. Lin teaching us the finer points of distinguishing a true Beijinger from your accent, and endless amount of Pu Er tea.

He gave us a warm handshake and lovely smile. We will never forget this lovely 50-year old ex-Air Force man. We saw so much of Beijing through him, and in him.

The Pheonix Has Risen

My God, honey, there are fifteen different "fu" meanings

- Vijay (at the Kolon's), Beijing

We got up, all bright-eyed and busy-tailed to conquer the day. Scooping up Carl from the Kolon's, we headed towards Panjiayuan Market to look for an early kill.

This place, flea market it may be, was totally funky. After yesterday's seriousness, we were ready for some bargaining. I was already riding a high, having bought my own erhu, got a great deal with the case, rosin, bow and CD, I was just warming baby, for the onslaught!

Panjiayuan is a collection of rows of bric or brac, but these are mainly replication of classic work. Case in point - looking for a Qin looking bronze horse riding the swallow? Can't afford to even get an entry ticket into Sotheby's? No problem. Haggle down the 200 yuan down to at least half, you get yourself a bronze horse replica that had been lovingly shoved and lifted in repeated motion through a sand bag by an old unemployed lady in some village. You go home happy, you supported the local livelihood!

But you have to bargain here, and unashamed to do so. Otherwise, there was really no point in turning up. We did a zig-zag strategy but abandoned it half way through row 5 (I think) and decided that we will opt out of the jade rows. Carl was delirious. When I found my first kill, an obscenely obese reproduction of a sitting horse with a small head, I was sold! Got a great bargain but the seller didn't let me off the hook without giving me a scowl. Oh well!

Second kill came close after I got myself another Qin period bronze prancing horse. But I got into a glitch bargaining for my Ommanipedmehung statue at its first joint. 70 yuan and not budging! I turned into the next stall. Same outcome! Now I was quite picky on the finishing and detail, so I tried to console myself that these statues weren't really that awesome right? And it turned out a smart decision. A few steps down the row I found the most perfect replica and it was retailing for 50 yuan. My brains were exploding from short circuit but I tried to muster up the best performance to look really pissed at the price. The guy was not budging from it and I had to (again) put on a show as if I was reluctantly paying for it. But once we were out at the tea house, I was laughing like a pelican.

There were all kinds of fancies to quench your fancy thirst. Old horse saddles, gigantic lion statues, bow and arrow set from the Mongols, masks (and I mean not the opera type but war!), swords, photography, art, traditional dresses, shoes (cute imperial boots), hats, chests (I kicked myself for forgetting to get some for my jewellery), and the list went on. But by the time we were ready to head out to meet Eric for some Taiwanese grub, we caught a cab outside to only see the harsher side of the Panjiayuan's fun. There were non-Beijingers, looking more like Mongolians, selling animal fur rugs slapped across their shoulders. Now that I strongly take a stand against animal trade, I felt a tinge of sadness at the raw reality of things. Here I was, going all giddy on my bargain with those guys inside the Panjiayuan, and there were these guys outside who weren't earning enough to even pay for the rent of the unit. They may even be the middle man, hence getting less of a cut of the commission! Am I getting dramatic? Should these guys be condemned to hell for killing that poor snow fox? Yeah, maybe I should think that way. Damn them, curse them!

Eric, as usual, was the master at taking us to places we never thought existed in the heart of the city and of course, making our stomachs happy at the same time. He was fun to chat with, loved his sharing of his art collections (old kites to Tibetan art -all way above my income tax bracket), and it was right up my alley when he took us to the old warehouses of the emperor in the olden days. It's all different nowadays. Speckled with all sorts of cuisine houses, traditional music playing in the atmosphere, it almost had a classic up market feel to it, and I bet that it would be. Now, maybe that's why I didn't see it in Lonely Planet!

Anyway, we, as usual, had way too much to eat but Taiwanese grub is good stuff. I already am cooking up my next evil plan to conquer Taiwan.

As the day built up, we dropped Carl back at his home at Chaoyang while we cabbed it to the Lama Temple. The Yong He Gong combined the traditional Han and Tibetan architecture. Its construction dated back to the late 1600s during the Qing dynasty and served as the official hangout of the court eunuchs. It was then taken over as Yin Zhen (Emperor Kangxi's son) as his court. After he became Emperor Yongzheng, as according to traditions, he went to the Forbidden City, and it as converted into a lamasery for Tibetan Buddhism monks. When Yongzheng has risen up to heaven, his coffin was placed in the temple. Qianlong (his successor) bestowed it the imperial status. From there, it grew to become a residence for a large numbers of Tibetan Buddhist monks from Mongolia and Tibet, and became a national centre of Lama administration.

Having survived even the Cultural Revolution, I am again, confused upon pondering on the strained relationship between China and the Dalai Lama. So far, every significant historic feature that I have been to, held on to the Tibetan Buddhism history where relevant, and yet I can't fathom why the current guanxi is so bad. Obviously there is a lot of Tibetan influence on China's history, heck, even Panjiayuan sold a damn lot of these artefact and art work. Maybe some things are just meant to be understood in the longer term.

As a last stop, we headed towards a hip Hutong that housed all the young entrepreneurs of Beijing. Boutique hotels, bars, courtyard beer gardens. Peeped into a window and you see one working furiously off his laptop while his girlfriend read away her book.

It's completely bohemian, and I want to live there!

We finally made it back to the Kolon's to enjoy a glass of wine and said our teary goodbyes. They had been the best of hosts and we were made to feel like this was second home. The ride back to the Grand Hyatt was quick and I have already begun to feel that I will miss this place too much.

The Invisible Vision

When the lights are green, the vehicles don't give a damn, and when the lights are red, the people don't give a damn!

- Vijay (crossing main streets), Beijing

The real deal - Gugong, basking in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. More soon.

We are back, and survived a day's meandering the streets around town and not getting mauled by giant tour buses. And today's tale is probably what left a real impact in the bohemian in me. We entered the Forbidden City from the north, via the Gate of Divine Might. This gave us a hint of the many imperious names that will grace the many important halls of the Gugong. As we made our way through the Imperial Garden, the many pavillions and trees (some purposely carved and coaxed to grow symbolizing "ren" as in human in Mandarin) served many purposes including where the Emperor delighted himself with his Empress and imperial concubines, where new concubines were being selected, and also where (Qianlong, particularly) pondered upon his decisions, edicts, thoughts, and where natural herbs and saps from the many trees that proliferated the gardens were studied as remedies for the warring soldiers.

As we moved towards the Palace of Heavenly Purity, it was a good moment to take some time alone to reflect on how this gargantuan of a slab landed in the middle of the Middle Kingdom. That was how I looked at it, from a macro level, it really behaved like a huge slab  of marble, dotted with specks of gardens, colourful columns, put your ears on the endless spread of pavement and you may just hear the ancient pitter patter of the young Puyi. This place, was where the Mings and the Qings mainly became the central of focus of the world for having served as the home of the Son of Heaven and his household, ceremonial and political means for almost 5 centuries. Being the world's most comprehensive architecture built with 900 over surviving buildings, it still houses some of the most precious artefacts from the Ming and Qing dynasties (let's not get into the argument about the National Palace Museum in Taipei).

Being named Zijin Cheng, it literally meant the "Purple Forbidden City" and as the Qings came in, they brought with them shamanistic practices, including their Manchu language (hence, the dual inscription of each palace or hall's plaque). Its Manchu version, Dabkuri dorgi hoton, meant the "Layered Inner City". True enough, you do feel that you were being led into a Minotaurish experience with no rope to guide yourself back unless you continue to head south towards the more auspicious "yang" site of the Meridian Gate.

After much reading and asking, the significance of purple lied in the North Star, or Ziwei Xing, which in traditional Chinese astrology was the abode of the Celestial Emperor. I guessed being the anointed Son of Heaven and as pharoanic as it was, he was literally looked upon as the only means of communication with and from the heavens. And because he was the big boss, nobody left the city without his permission, including the princes, so I guessed too that it was a walled city. It housed many dreams that the poor living in the outside in the many thousands of hutong craved for, but it also held the diminishing hope of those who were dying to get out from this luxurious prison.

When Emperor Shunzi took over the abode and proclaimed himself the ruler of all China, most of the principal buildings were changed to be named differently, with an emphasis on "harmony" instead of "supremacy". The one good thing of the barbaric Qings was that they were clever enough to assimilate the Mings' intellect and created a subdued nation that respected the ruling force yet felt patronised enough to continue the confucian legacy of learning and values.

However, I loved the shamanistic side of these Qings dudes! It brought a certain kind of lightness to a very serious place to visit. I was very overwhelmed by the history of the whole place. This was where Qianlong took a nap, that was where Kangxi issued the annual proclamations, somebody got his head chopped off in this lane... I mean, it was quite a lot to take in! So, having found out that the Palace of Earthly Harmony became a place of Manchu Shamanistic ceremony, I was immensely pleased to see how well they merged, again, with the native Chinese Taoist as shown in the two Taoist shrines in the Imperial Garden and the central area of the Inner Court. Tibetan Buddhism was also widely held as shown from the Lamaist temples and shrines found almost as vast as you would scatter your coins in abundance. The Pavillion of the Rain of Flowers held a beautiful collection of Buddhist statues, icons, and mandalas. They were all breathtakingly beautiful and I was really glad that despite the many years in between, that China saw wars, attacks, the Great Leap Forward, and the Cultural Revolution (which I was glad that Zhou Enlai put some guards to at least prevent the whole place from being ransacked and flattened), these national treasures stayed on.

Of all the many halls, I loved the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The Gates were imposing already but to see where the many emperors sat and crowned, it gave me goosebumps. I felt as if this was a place that had everything conceivable by the human mind yet as I walked out into the business of Dong Chang'an Jie, to think that the empress could only walk through the Meridian Gate once on her wedding day and never again, was something I could not relate to. I felt I saw a lot yet I felt I knew so little about this part of Chinese history. It went through years of opulence, conquered dynasty after another through might, raped by foreign forces and corrupted officials, the many dreams unfulfilled, the many hopes broken, and the shroud of grandeur and mystery that it posed to the outside world. What led to the Gugong being conceptualised yet what led to its downfall?

Perhaps it is appropriately named. The Forbidden City will forever hold its allure as a delicate violet petal on your hand. Hold it too tight and you crush it. Let it float and ponder, I may eventually see the answer I seek.

At dusk, we met with another mate, Mark Williams, a Queenslander who decided to study Mandarin because it had "all those funny writing" and now, found himself based in Beijing for 10 years. He took us to Gui Jie, literally Ghost Street for its infamous hot pot. I think this place is named as such because it closes really late, and it never closes as long as there is still a customer inside. The whole place was littered with hot pot joints and we had one that was very much to our satisfaction. We ended the night at Beihai at this pub called "Zone" and so far, I must say, after enduring all the squat work I had to do, this pub was the only decent one that had a toilet bowl. Enough said!

Summer Time

Ni hao!

- Mr. Lin, Beijing

It seems that Beijing is indeed, more a galactical spread than what I thought from The Lonely Planet. Again, time is just playing a funnily cruel game with me and I am in the unenviable position to decide - should I breakfast or not? Probably nothing like even holding a fried Chinese twisted dough and a bowl of hot soya milk, standing in front of Chow Tai Fook Jewellers (Audrey Hepburn style).

I have so much to share, so little time before I got to get down to meet my driver for the day, Mr. Lin, but I definitely will put them down. I owe you yesterday and today. I promise to make it good!

Right, before I speed off to tell you about the day, I have something to share - Mr. Lin.

He retired from the Chinese Air force a while ago and had been Eric's personal driver, xiungdi, and most trusted fella to take us around. If you have seen the way the locals drive (and that I should include the bikers), you would love Mr.Lin. He thrilled us with his deft maneouvers, silent confidence, warm laughter when we shared a smoke and lunch together, and ever accommodating to our lack of proper Beijing "speak-no-chinese", and mind you, he even outpaced us as we walked towards the car.

So as the sun warmed up the arthritic limbs of two sorry looking out-of-towners, we moved like bears that overslept from their winter hibernation, out onto the grounds in front of Yihe yuan, the new Summer Palace which began in 1750, the Reign Year 15 of Emperor Qianlong. Upon entering this place, we encountered unbelievable beauty.

The Kunming Hu covered a big part of the property but it was the endless corridors, the multiple sets of halls and royal residences, the willow trees that lines our cobbled path towards the fort where we took a barge over the lake, and climbed the flights of steps up to the temple, that took our breath, our time, and made us really, stunned. If you really closed away your focus on the gaggles of tourists, you really could imagine yourself back into those times and almost felt the Empress Dowager Cixi next to you (and probably asking your professional opinion about the foreign forces, and not hesitating to lop your head off for her imperial majesty's pleasure).

This place started out as the Garden of Clear Ripples but I personally prefer the present name. It houses reproduction of garden architecture of various palaces in China and the Kunming Hu really reminded me of the real deal in the West Lake in Hangzhou. Given it actually suffered two major attacks during the Anglo-French allied invasion in 1860 (those buggers really spared nothing) and the Boxer Rebellion, how this place still survived and preserved its beauty is beyond me.

If you read Anchee Min's work, you may debate about whether it was true that Cixi diverted 30 million tael of silver designated for the Chinese navy (Beiyang Fleet) into the reconstruction and enlargement of the Summer Palace. But it given it also housed a lot of Emperor Qianlong's work of calligraphy and poem writing, I still am sitting on the fence whether that it was wrong to do so. The Qing dynasty was wobbly, whether another 30 million tael could have prevented a national disaster, I really don't know for sure. There were so many different problems from within the imperial city and the vast foreign forces that were dying to jump on any old missionary helper being bludgeoned to death for offending a local lady.

Who knows?

Lunch ended at Beihai Yuan where we took a lovely walk throughout what I would call the "Central Park" of Beijing. It had a lovely lake with an islet in the middle, with its famous Yashang Restaurant, known to be serving imperial cuisine since the times of Qianlong, even Pu Yi and now, to the paying public. What coaxed my curiosity was that this park has too many cats and they were supposed to be... the guardians? The former concubines?

Perhaps curiosity does kill the cat, but given its rate, and the number of black and white furballs around, I think they were doing pretty well.

The Day I (Finally) Felt Local

I thought I was in Tokyo!

- Daisuke Saso San (Juniper Networks), Japan

More to come soon. Right now, I have to jump into the shower!

Right, where was I... before the desperately needed way to relax from a long day, here goes the report for the hard work done.

Ok, this may seemed a bit trivial but I had the best khaoya so far in Beijing. I know they all mentioned the ones (apparently only 200 ducks flew in terror everyday) in Dadong but I was very privileged to be invited to the Beijing Hong Kong Jockey Club and Clubhouse. I still hold it as one of the best hidden modern architectural fusion of the old and new, a perfect marriage of clean lines, honesty in material, and effective utilisation of natural light, space, and the people it houses inside.

Earlier in the morning, Mr. Chen came to fetch me for lunch with Patty and her girlfriends. Admittedly, the two glasses of merlot from last night at the Red Moon, listening to my favourite quartet belting out gentle tunes through the erhu and pipa, I was struggling to look decent due to the lack of sleep. So a nice heavy brunch was quite in the order for me. We reached early to Patty's school where she took her weekly mandarin lesson, and Mr. Chen and I conversed across a bevy of topics. I must say that I felt more confident than I had been since arriving, in using my rusty putonghua but I guessed I tried to be as genuine as much as I racked my brains to remember, Mr. Chen seemed pretty jovial. It was too cold and windy to be standing outside although it was too easy to presume the sun shining outside the car bestowed a better deal than the stuffy interior of the car (no thanks to the effective heater). I did get out to just get the experience of being blown out of my wits. It was really windy and my face felt like it had been pulled up taunt like how those dudes do it at the Chinese Opera. The girls did come out after what felt like a passing windstorm and I met Lulu from Mexico and Sangheeta from Nepal. The four of us went for some Tibetan lunch at Palta Dungkar (opposite the Canadian Embassy).

Now, I liked the decor of the place more than the menu. We had mostly lots of grilled meat, the pau was little to be desired of as I got a bias towards the fluffy mantou and crispy jiaozhi. But what kicked the living groove out of me was tasting the buttered tea. I was pretty much geared up for yak burger but the chai looked harmless and I thought I could do it. The first taste was salty. So was the second. I figured out by then that they don't really understand the concept of "kosong", "kurang manis", or just "teh".

Mr. Chen opted out. So did I, never quite reaching base 2.

After the laborious job of making entertaining talk and polite laughter, prompt enquiry with these expatriate ladies, Patty and I went to the Sanlitun Yashow Clothes Market and it was a blast! I couldn't have gone to a better place but given that darn shortage of time, I couldn't visit the biggest Adidas store in the entire universe known to us... but Yashow did bring out some goodies. Since Patty looked more like a lost, helpless (and gullible) tourist than me, I was pretty much left unattended, unbothered while we walked up the levels of goods. Clothes, measured tailoring, shoes, bags, hair accessories, jade, pearl, fans, knocked-off iPod, wood carving, tea... it was really just tiring looking.

I did find a corner store where I pretended to not speak any Mandarin. The seller was really impressed (if I may say so) of my ancient Chinese relic knowledge as she tried to bull shit her way around the goods. I caught her by the line, hook and sinker - and bargained a good 300 yuan for a pair of old door knocks, a pair of the male / female lions, an empress wine cup, and an emperor's wine set. They were made to look pretty dated and I just simply loved it.

Now, back in pitch dark roads or so it seemed that way because of the flood of lights from the oncoming traffic, the early evening took an appearance of more like 9pm. I walked towards the Regent to meet the rest of the crew and so we headed to my culinary heaven.

The stunner of the show - jellyfish appetizer - was delicately crunch, a good yin yang of the sourish and sweet, a hint of salty finish, was the perfect start to tease my already fanatical stomach. Besides the almost divine thin wraps of pancake concealing the fragrant slices of khaoya, I like their version of the jiaozhi. Small, plump, juicy, I think I nearly could understand the obsession of those obsessive emperors during the Tang dynasty over their imperial concubines. They were just like... my favourite jiaozhi.

Ahem, recovering from my Freudian slip, dessert was quit peculiar. Two tangyuan floated in this small rice wine broth with wolfberries. Wicked but I think the wine was poorly cured. The blistering cold walk back was a nice way to wind down my already blissfully tortured stomach while my mind was trying to file away what I could gather from its interior design. Circular wall opening that led the garden walking path into the parts of the building that were shied away in darkness, garden bed lamps that blended in almost as if they were little stars that fell from the great heavens onto this fertile ground. Massive marble halls and refined antique horses framed through the inside walls. One could go giddy just taking it all in, if you are already not being done by the fresh vast vases of oriental lilies strewn generously, punctuating each level of foyer that separates the restaurant from the meeting rooms, and finally the main entrance.

During our walk back, one dodgy guy came out from the back and asked one of our crew members "Sir, you want lady?". That was quite a rude way for him to snap back from the titillating experience of the clubhouse's decor and culinary escape. But I reckoned he took it pretty well, just a simple "no" and he scooted the guy off his back. We are really a decent lot but one just wondered... did we look like we needed it?

But then again, one of us got punched in the gut with a "hey sir, you want man love?".

And he was a dude.

Being A Bohemian Traveller For A Day

Come here Cookie...

- The Author, The Kolon's Residence in Beijing

Patty's driver, Mr. Chen came to pick me up at 9:30am to meet up for a trip up to her studio. This was a good drive up to Huantie Art Zone, which Patty housed her new studio within a former warehouse. It's industrial looking, completely full utility, and my dream! She has done a few canvas pieces (WIP) but I am just so impressed with the whole work going on. The countryside was inspiring, calm in a way, yet evoking a long time romance of words, actions, thoughts and goals of the bygone. Channeling all these into your "day in the office" seems mandatory enjoyment.

We went on to 798 District and were lost amidst the numbers of galleries. I was very taken by the level of talent in this place. If I thought that Hong Kong blew my mind, that Hanoi bowled me over, and Shanghai pushed my appreciation of decadence up a few notches - Beijing is the centre womb that gives birth to a new international level of art development. This place, even on a cold weekday, was humming with visitors, artists, you can strike up a conversation here, enquire about their work without being made to feel like you have to purchase something. That was refreshing, and was even being given some free catalogues on outstanding work that I definitely will use as brain food for my second collection.

First off the block was an exhibition by Zhang Bin called "I just do not want to talk..." and it showcased portraits of sombre, moody oriental women. They sat in sombre poses in their drawing rooms, stood in the fields and a few pieces were interjected with symbolic company - the bird that flew away, the waiting frog prince begging for a magical form turning kiss, a unicorn, and an antler hat. But it was her refined fingers and toes that showed the rough big proportions of the rest of her head, shoulders and hips. But her eyes were ever engaging, beady, sad, and provocative.

Guan Hong Chen came up as someone I could identify more with his heady, strong strokes of sculpting paste planting a field of marigolds. His work is one that I will look for and set as a bar. We share similar inclinations despite that his medium is in oil, and mine in acrylic. I spend a good long time going in between his pieces only to realise he was standing behind me all the time. We spoke very little as his English wasn't too good and my Mandarin was a despair, but he was helpful and gave me a lot of reference material that I can bring home to start work on.

Carmen Zou did her clothing culture from the Confucion through the Cultural Revolution and 21st Century line, and did good she did. If fancy outlandish interpretation of clothing is not your kind of thing, you may pass this one as boring but she does bring out the rebellious streak in your inner fashionista and if you have the ka-ching, you can get the item. Again, no buy but try, you still get smiles from the girls there.

Our last stop is at the Faurschou gallery in which we only chose one film due to time shortage but it was from the "Women without men" collection. We watched "Zarin" - anorexic prostitute that ran off to a hammam to wash herself of her sins of pleasing these men, after finding out that these men who had used her all had no faces. In her journey to the purification, all the men on the streets were the same. In the end, after having scrubbed thin her skin and bleeding. she ran out only to find things have not changed. In terror, she ran off to the unknown future. In other four parallel sequences, Shirin Neshat portrayed the lives of these five Iranian women in 1953, an important year in recent history as the democratically elected Prime Minister was removed in a coup d'etat mounted by the British and American forces (whose task is to reinstate the Shah to avoid nationalisation of their country's oil resources. I found the film disturbing and realise that this could be as close as I can get to a portrayal of reality in a country that is so different from mine, yet faces so similar in the challenges that women have.

After an exhaustive day, we still haven't covered the entire place. I definitely want to have a studio of my own, which is housed in a former factory. I want brick walls to hang my canvas sketches, I want to visit my fellow artists, I want to talk about my work, I want to share, I want to immerse and soak myself in this environment, I want to expose myself to the ever growing events in 798 District, Beijing blew my mind in how encouraging they are in reviving the underground art movement that had flourished tremendously since the revolution.

Now as I write to you from the Kolons, we have decided to rename the family's cat because she didn't seem to be responding. I don't know if this is a creative process but we are definitely getting ready to leave Cookie at home so that we can head out for some jiaozhi. This place I heard, it has all kinds.

This is Vivien, reporting from the Kolons, in Chaoyang, in Beijing (although I know I should have done it the other way around).

All My Senses Come To Truth

No problem, my friend.

- Eric (Juniper Networks), Beijing

Today was indeed, a beautiful day.

The clouds came out in the right proportion to tease the sun. I got out to check out Zoe's for breakfast outside of the hotel. Although my initial dream of crusty wholemeal toast with butter turned out to be soggy ones with coated butter, the juice did the encore for me. With fuel in my system, I ventured out, armed with a little bit of knowledge (and you know what they say about that) of an initiation kind of walking tour around the central part of Beijing, brave and bright-eyed, all bushy tailed to meet the unknown.

I coursed down Wangfujing Dajie, turned into one of the little alleys that led me to one of the many hundreds (daily number) hutong sites. After half an hour of burdening myself with the overcoat and an overflowing bladder, I managed to relieve myself in a hotel that I don't stay but pretended to, got into the Eastern Gate of the Forbidden City. Besides being snappy happy, I took the pain to check out the local feel, being snubbed by one proud Pekingese and loads of local faces, going about their usual business. Much to my dismay, I couldn't find a local tea stall (none of those shops) or eatery for my liking as I did in Hanoi. Stubbornly soldiering on, I found myself getting amazed in a maze of hutong alleys, walking and quietly venturing into one of the residences, soaking in the cold air amidst the very one-of-your-usual days in Beijing. The hutong sites are pretty amazing for a buzzing place like this city. In this place, I lost myself in the chirping of the birds, beeping of oncoming traffic, smells of greasy local bread stuffed taco style with all sorts of meat and vegetables, and bicycles. Yep, they were everywhere.

As I lost myself, missing one of the turnings, I really couldn't care less at this point after spending 4 hours letting myself into the turns of time. Between a confident display of local men winning / losing their hand at poker, yards of locals walking the pavement, mists of smoke, and one defiant cocker spaniel pounding the roads (and ending up riding his mistress's bicycle), I was ready for a quiet moment in the Changpu river's park. It was magical. I sat there, haunted by the beauty of the draping leaves in the many trees surrounding the park, a dry river bed and the red walls enclaving the horizon. In between hearing a local Beijing-men shouting on his phone on some hot gossip (probably telling the other guy on the line that he's the one being wronged) and the mass traffic zipping past me, I got back slowly to the hotel.

Had a local greasy Beijing-styled home noodles. Nothing to shout about, I still prefer the clear broth pho in Hanoi (of course you are not going tell on me), I did have a crunchy jelly fish salad that perked me up in between the pots of Pur Er tea. Feeling guilty as a walrus on mating season but with no luck, I decided to take myself down to the tropical pool. Now, this was something to phantom about. I was transported away from the busy streets of Beijing and played Cleopatra for a minute. By the time I was in and out of the hot jacuzzi and steam room, I was as ready as a steamed pot of pork knuckles. Feeling strong, I took myself down to the gym for a workout.

Slowly, I found out that what the heart thought it could, the body after walking non-stop for four hours, could not. No worries. I got back up, had a strong doze of sleep-in and got up in time by sunset to venture out to Wangfujing Dajie again. We had the most amazing khao ya (roast duck), got our boiled Chinese cabbage and mushroom soup late (and served free off the bill), we went for a walk down the eastern part off the main road. There were a lot more lovely hutong sites but the main gates were locked after dusk (as expected). The night ended with a "back to expensive Beijing living" style kind of oggling at the Audi showroom and dreamed about the S5 model that I probably had to sell my kidneys for.

A short de tour took us back to the hotel and we found ourselves in the Red Moon bar, with a quartet playing modern and old time classics with their traditional instruments. The pipa and erhu romanticised the soul with its haunting tunes, the red wine never flowed that easily before.

As I have an early start tomorrow at the 798 district (where the bohemian in me will be enthralled), I shall call it an early night. The scorpions and the sea urchin was good (forgot to mention this one - raw), but I had an uneasy feeling about the centipede after all... I really am looking forward to the day tomorrow.

Today had been outstanding. I truly felt like a tourist in my old, ancient, ancestral town.

The Day The Crawlies Claimed The Hour

Xiao jei, xiao jei! Zhao yue, zhao yue!

- Hawker, Beijing

Second day in Beijing, only one night but it feels like we have been doing so much. This morning was a good cloudy and chilly start as we walked towards Tiananmen Square to check out some pre-visit experience of the crowd in the Forbidden City.

The walk was very charming but by the sweet Lord, the human tidal wave was such a sight to behold that I dare not think what I would do if I do take a small trip on the pavement. This site is huge, palatial expanse in the most unashamed grandiosity that a human mind can capture. This is the site that history was made, tankers crushing the democratic dream, where the last emperor was a captive within his own walls. You can't miss the square or the forbidden fruit that drawn so many visitors, local and foreign alike. Yes, we were hassled to buy anything imaginable, there were funny English translation of the rules on where you should begin the tour. But this is where all the hours of discussing about the finest (and necessarily, cruelest) of the Qing dynasty's hours took place, Of course Yongle built the place but there were many rebuilding as it was then and probably required today. I basked in the moment. As each formidable door barrier took me deeper into the realm of where dreams were crushed and the hope of a nation was held, I drifted away amidst the sea of visitors and felt the silence of that place. That was when I felt the loneliness of the most successful and the least of their rulers in the history of time.

We will be back on another day which I intend to rise extra early to capture (hopefully) a barren square that the morning raising of the national flag will be done. This will be followed by a good soaking one's self in history as I take it further into the city for real.

Meanwhile we broke our journey to Houhai. Pretty funky place but more of an Amsterdamic Lankwaifong for my taste. There were bars, and bars everywhere. In between the girl from Ipanema and chinese erhu music, I had a good Erdinger, got bullied by a cat while checking out Tibetan jewellery before we moved on back to Wangfujing Dajie. Dusk came early at about 5-ish, but that was when the city came alive. These buggers here drive like they don't give a hoot about the traffic, wheels and wheeled beggars and all.

Anyway, we were cruising down Wangfujing Dajie when I caught sight of this row of intense ruby lanterns decorating a massive noisy lane of hawkers. This could be the pasar malam within Bangsar for the Beijingers but I kid you not when I say that they literally shouted down at my face with the utmost intensity to sell me a stick of sweetened strawberries. The competition was heated, Wall Street-like and I found myself mesmerised beyond the sticks of fumbly cuttlefish, chicken skewers, lamb kidneys, and gravitated towards silk worms, mini scorpions, larvae, and centipede satays.

You know what they say "when in Rome..."

Rest assured I made it back to our hotel without any swollen lips and foam in the mouth, but I had lots of fun getting my 15 minutes of fame when interested tourists decided to snap my picture of devouring those fried beer food, shared some of my goodies with some scared but revved up American travellers, and had my cheeks completely wind bitten by the end of the evening.

This was just 6:30pm. Isn't life just so great!

As I made my way to the Red Room bar in the hotel, this was where it took the cake. The door into the bar was invisible. I had this oriental lass speaking in true 1960s Americanised Chinese accent asking "drink or dinner?" but hey, with things rolling the way they did, who really cared! Anyway, the door was this mirror door that swung to the side upon approach and what swept ahead of me was this swanky bar with heck of a good wine. I was a good girl, had a Brown Brothers 2006 Chenin Blanc and went for a short run later.

This is Vivien, signing off in Beijing, with her rice broth waiting.

Spantaculous!

Great cookies!

- Talia Schonberger, Beijing

This is Vivien reporting live from Nellie's and Carl's home in Park Apartments in Chaoyang district in Beijing! Today has been a god-sent lovely day with spectacular weather. We climbed the Great Wall of China and huffed and puffed our way up and down, but managed to take lots of pictures.

What do you know? The Toboggan ride was the way down! It was awesome and my skirt was flying on the way down. I never thought being in such a historical place would have such a fantastic place coming down. I was on a high! The walk was all worth it. Yes, there was the sellers haggling a piece of bronze horse sculpture down to 200 Yuan but Carl told me that I should wait for his mum, Patty to take me to the Dirt Market to get the best bang of my bucks!

I'm currently waiting in glee greediness on the delectable cookies (chocolate chip!) that the lovely girls are baking and I shall sign off from Beijing, for another day of adventure.

Because I Said So, And Because I Can!

The sex scene with Gemma wasn't difficult because it is part of my job.

- Daniel Craig, UK

Ah, because I said so... anything you reckon Danny Boy, after all, I never thought I would look at James Bond again the same way after Sir Sean hung up his gun (no pun) and left the girls breathless in Barbados.

I keep thinking to myself, how hard must this guy be? James or Daniel, Bond or otherwise. He grunts at romantic overtures, he throws himself from a crane and lands on steel containers, he knocks the wind out of the baddies' pipes with his hands, knuckles, elbows (yeah, give me more!), for Pete's sake, you strip that guy naked and whack him where we all shudder in pain watching it, takes time out to get some mojo work in the sheets, pisses off M, makes me root for him because he is so misunderstood for revenge when he just wants to kick the guy with the weird accent's ass...

Casino Royale. Quantum of Solace. Bond.

I mean, when I went to get my eye check-up, my rego card was numbered 4007 and I thought it was an epiphany! As inflated as my ego was, I thought I "belong" to a secret club, that devilish feeling of just being completely bowled over for days after watching Mr. Blue-Eyes-Does-Me-Wonder in those desert backdrop, the wind, the heat... and he still looked like he was ready to take a swirl (and give a damn) of his shaken martini. In that dusty suit.

And now Jamie Foxx wants to be the first black Bond. I mean... Jamie - I like you in The Kingdom, but whiskey? The black drink, some hip-hop. I wonder what M will be. Belting some gospel hits?

"You want Harry? I'll show you the dirty!"

Back On The Road

There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.

- Robert Louis Stevenson, Scotland

I will be packing up to head way up north to the cold of Beijing tomorrow. Pretty exciting since we are taking a midnight flight and I get to wiggle in the snug comfort of the small seating of cattle class. So far weather projection has been good (or the way I like it) - real ass kicking cold. It probably would not matter if you come from Finland but it is definitely a big deal for me!

Given the last trip I made was up to Hoi An in Vietnam and took quite a lot of interesting shots, I am itching to see what Beijing has to offer. There is not a set of assumed "must-take" shots and I am not going to go rigid on it. If the Tiananmen happens to be the backdrop, so be it. But I sure hope that there will be an interesting old man crouching by a corner block, smoking his opium stick... Now, that is one shot I will pay for!

We are staying pretty central, which is damn fine. Although I have been told that it will be a heck of a walk still to Tiananmen and the Forbidden City (you know, those who just can't resist downloading all kinds of "traveler's only" advice to you the moment they found out you are heading up there?) I think my boots are definitely made for this walk.

And my violin will be heading up there with me too. Ten days without any playing just seem too long for me.

Come to think of it, I am getting more excited given that it is kind of a "update" daily in that CNN or BBC format, like "this is Vivien, reporting live from Tiananmen". My imagination is running wild again.

On a more personal note, I am returning to the Motherland (as cliche as it sounds) and I will be among where the first of the Hans roamed the land, where the Manchurians fought into our cities, and overthrown the Mings, and the heady mix of other tribes, ethnicities, foreign traders, cows, chooks, pots and pans.

This grand old dame has definitely been to places without moving a bit!

What Is Your Vice?

I get no kick from champagne, mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all, so tell me why should it be true, that I get a kick out of you?

- Cole Porter, USA

Unless your name is Champagne! Short of being so naughty before dusk, my absolute decadent vice is to enjoy a crystal glass of Veuve Clicquot Hommage a Madame and reminiscing Jamie Cullum's take on Porter's cheeky lyrics. It is funny how a simple measure of liquid gold represents in its most innocent pour the breaking of all rules that bound my little life.

I feel it is an adulterated decision, a personal and private enjoyment, a celebration of your own self, spending time with yourself, smiling without really smiling at (no, not the alcohol at doing!) - in short, just being liberated and not having too many "what if", "why", "who" and friends bothering you for just a moment.

Now if only that jar of foie gras is easier to open...

Shutting The Blinds

Spend time alone in nature, meditating about your desires and intentions. Ask the angels to help you gain positive perspective.

- (Message from Leila) Doreen Virtue, USA

Your life has been noisy lately, and you need to escape into a place of natural tranquility. It is time for you to be alone in nature, even if it is for just a brief while. You do not need others' permission to take care of your soul in this way. Simply plan your sojourn, and then follow through on those plans.

Once you are alone in nature, allow your mind to wander wherever it wants to go. Notice your thoughts and feelings, and perhaps write them down. After a time, speak aloud or silently to the nature angels that surround you. Ask them to clear your body and aura of any stress that you may have absorbed. Then, meditate and pray about your desires and intentions. Prayers are amplified by the power of nature, and you will feel very refreshed when you return home.

Guardian Angels

Keep charging ahead, and don't take no for an answer. Expect miraculous solutions to appear.

- (Message from Mystique) Doreen Virtue, USA

You are on the right path. Although it might seem to take a lot of time and effort, keep up the good work. You are definitely making progress towards your intended outcome. Sometimes flexibility is called for when you are working towards an aim. But in this instance, you need to stay firm in your conviction. Compromise will only water down the Divine plan that you are manifesting.

Resist the urge to bend, or to please others. In the end, these individuals will be pleased by the outcome. You are following a Divine course, and others may not be privy to the same vision that you are following. Do your best to explain this vision to the others involved, but do not feel the need to defend your actions. Look at me, I am coming out of the darkness and into the light. So are you. You know what you are doing, and we in Heaven are here to back you up fully.

You have an important life purpose involving communication and the arts. Please do not allow insecurities to hold you back. I will help you.

(Message from Archangel Gabrielle) Doreen Virtue, USA

I am with you as one of your guardian angels. You may wonder why an archangel is with you. I help many people simultaneously, and you are among them. I help those whose life purpose is in the arts or communication. I will help you polish and trust in your natural talents. Then I will open doors for you to express those talents in a way that will help others.

What I need from you in return is honesty and cooperation. Tell me about your fears, your hopes, your confusion, your insecurities, and your dreams. Ask me to help you. And then, please walk through the doors of opportunity that I open for you. I am on your side completely. My function is to be your coach, and as such, I may prod you along. Please know that I am only pushing you because I know that you need a little boost from above.