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.
