Boundless Beijing

On our way to the train station

      
        The next morning, we woke up early and looked up the train schedule to Hong Kong and areas to climb the Great Wall. After eating our “American” breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast, we headed out to the subway to buy train tickets. It was raining again, but thankfully, we brought our bright green rain ponchos. Covered in shiny plastic, we attracted  even more attention than before, even some giggles and mouth-covering laughs. Getting off the subway, we walked in the direction of the station, enduring more giggles and pointed stares. Finally arriving at the West Beijing Railway Station, we tried to blend in with the throngs of people heading inside. Pushed and shoved by men with quilts and blankets, we finally made it up one set of stairs. And then we had to go down and around another set. Inching along with most of the Beijing population, we finally made it inside the station. We found the ticketing room, occupied by thousands of people, queuing in line. There were people seated along the walls, lying on the edges, and men spitting on the marble floor. Cringing, we pushed through the crowd to the line that boasted “English speaking.” After waiting in line, we were brusquely told by our “English apeaker” that Saturday’s train was booked, and as they only travel on odd days, our next option was Monday. Overwhelmed by frustration, we headed back outside to the rain to trek back. We decided to take a cab, thinking that this would be a quick, simple solution. The first cab we walked up top waved his hands wildly and drove off. Maybe our raincoats were scary? The second just said shook his head and drove away. The third said no and sped away. Incredibly frustrated with cab drivers, we started walking back in the direction we came. But we just couldn’t face the hoards  of Chinese pushing around on the bridge that crossed the street, so we ran across the four lane highway to the center partition. Walking around to the other side, the policemen in their stand just pointed and laughed. Waiting for a break in the traffic, we stood alone in the center partition, still covered in our plastic. Finally crossing the street, we asked another cab driver, who quoted us an exorbitant price. Nope. And wouldn’t use the meter. Definitely not. As we were walking back, another cab driver asked where we were going and said he would use the meter. Relaxing against the cloth seat coverings, I received a text from our friend Chris, who happened to be in Beijing at the same time we were. He was in town to judge the Stella Artois national competition, as he was last year’s Stella Artois draft master, and is now traveling for the next two months to judge competitions. We headed to the Forbidden City to meet him.
Unfortunately, after entering the garden area instead of the entrance to the city, we missed the cut-off for entering. Telling Chris to meet us at a restaurant at the end of the street, we walked around to kill some time. An hour later, Chris met up with us, and offered to let us shower and/or stay at his place. We decided to shower there, and after handing us his room key, he headed off to meet the local Stella rep. We walked back to our hostel, decided a four star hotel sounded way better, checked out, and grabbed a cab to the Park Plaza hotel. Sounds like an easy itinerary, except our driver had no idea where the hotel (or street the hotel was on) was. We drove up and down the same street  three times before he realized he had to turn left. Finally arriving at the hotel, we stumbled in, backpacks and all, as the bellboys tried to figure out what to do with us. Imagine their surprise when we cheerily held up a room key and bolted for the elevator.

       Chris’ room consisted of everything we were trying to go without- a feather top bed, hotel toiletries and a shower that we didn’t have to wear flipflops in. And it felt amazing. After long, hot showers, we put on our face masks that literally were masks. After SCREAM and the opera mask disappeared, we fell asleep breathing air that was untainted with smelly backpackers and mold.
Waking up the next morning, we headed out to get a quick breakfast before the taxi picked the three of us up to go to the Great Wall. Chris’ local rep had gotten someone he often used to drive us for a price that was only slightly more than a subway/bus/taxi combo. And way more convenient. And then Chris got a call from Frederick (the rep) saying that the wall was closed because of the heavy rain. Ridiculously disappointed, we were immediately texted back with a message back to hang out for an hour to see if the rain would let up. Wandering around Chris’ much different (and upscale) neighborhood showed us another side of Beijing before the rain finally let up. Chris and Becca tried pickled peanuts as we wandered around an area that had cheap street food and a Lamborghini shop. Chris finally got a text from Frederick, and we headed back to the hotel to get our cab.

Driving to the Great Wall took about an hour and a half, and we passed through some brightly colored neighborhoods and little shops. There were many stands on the side of the road, selling peaches and other fruit. Arriving at Matiyahu, our driver told us to remember his license plate, and we headed off. Chris questioned our decision to wear sandals to hike up the Great Wall. We laughed and told him that it was way more comfortable, and we do it all the time. Climbing the hundreds of steps forced Chris to change out of his jeans into breezier shorts. Arriving at the top, we were in awe of the spectacular sight. We trekked from the middle all the way to the closed section to the right, and then back all the way to the cable cars to the left. During this period, we took pictures with military hats, climbed up hundreds more stairs and Chris cart wheeled to applause from the other visitors. We then took a cable car ride down, where Rebecca was forced to overcome her fear of heights, which she almost did. Back to our cab, the traffic in Beijing delayed our journey back to almost three hours.
Chris ran out to a Stella dinner, while Becca and I headed out for dinner and to find her newest necessity, always obsession- a curling iron. Heading into pharmacies, we found homeopathic remedies and vacuums, but no hair dryer. Wandering to a department store, we asked again and were met with blank stares. We finally headed into a “real” department store, and wandered around the toiletry level until Becca’s charade of hair drying motions led a woman to direct us up to the sixth floor. Arriving there, we found curling irons, and Becca almost cried. And then she found out that they were extremely overpriced. Becca finally found a cheap one, but they were out. She asked for the store model, and they agreed. While they plugged it in for her to try it, I was enthralled by the three little turtles that the salesman had in a little dish of water by the register. Becca bought the curling iron, and we headed out to get some ice cream and then went back to the hotel to pack for our flight to Hong Kong the next morning.

Bemusement in Beijing

        Imagine my disappointment as our adventure through Beijing unfolded. Our pent up excitement and anticipation built up to an obscene level, plummeting as the days passed. But it’s all an experience, and this was quite the story.
As we stepped off the airplane, we couldn’t wait to see what Beijing had in store for us. Struggling with our slightly too heavy, slightly too large backpacks, we set off to find a hostel. Walking outside the airport, we stopped at a little stand to ask which bus would take us to Tianamen Square. Here, we had our first experience with English-Chinese translation. “Tianamen?” we asked tentatively. A confused look passed over the bus ticker’s face as he loudly responded with “Tiameeeehhhhhhhh!?!” Sure. We bought tickets and stood in the line by bus three, our connection to the city. Hopping on the bus, we peered out the window in eager anticipation. Contemplating what stop to get off at, we saw a sign for Tianamen Square- 3km. Sighing in relief that we in fact were on the right bus, we got off at the end of the line and continued on foot in the same direction, a few blocks over. The brighter lights of the city and large, business buildings slowly faded into the distance as we walked. Without a map or good sense of direction, we were lost. Stepping into the street, we stopped at a cab that had just let someone out. He shook his head at us and drove off, the first of many times we were refused service by Beijing cab drivers. Sighing, we crossed the street, avoiding the bikes and pull carts and walked in front of a hotel. Not exactly what we were looking for, but we entered anyway. Between the giggles of the young front desk receptionist and the gaggle of Chinese workers that surrounded us, they were not able to guide us to the area we wanted, saying instead “close to Tiananmen, it’s closed now.” We thanked them and walked outside and continued down the street. Walking up to the next hotel, we decided that we were tired and just wanted to sleep and not carry the heavy backpacks we were sporting. The next hotel consisted of bright cartoons and lots of children. Giving Becca a look, we turned away and went back to our first hotel. Slightly confused, the hotel staff helped us get a room. Getting to our room, we curiously perused the amenities, including a Hello Kitty bathmat, toothbrushes and mini toothpaste and an odd nightstand with a lot of switches. Going to sleep almost immediately, we fell asleep to the sounds of a small Chinese suburb- a mother yelling at her children, carts being pushed down the street and the light pinging of a bicycle bell.

View from our hotel

We woke up early the next morning without a real plan, but knowing we needed to find internet and/or someone that spoke any English. Walking down the street, we peered into small stores and little restaurants. Small children curiously watched us as we wandered down the streets, without any apparent destination. Approaching a large street, we attempted to walk across it, but were quickly pushed back and motioned to continue on the same side of the road. Slightly confused, we did. A few blocks up, there was a stairway down that led under the street to the other side. Crossing the street is rarely done above ground, probably because of the millions of people that live there. Continuing on, we saw a Starbucks and thought we resolved all of our problems, coffee for Becca and internet to find out where we were and where we should go. Except it was closed. So we continued on, eventually walking into a hotel and asking if they knew where we could find internet. They smiled uncomfortably and looked back at their computers. Sighing, we walked out and continued onto another street. Walking into a restaurant, we hopefully looked at our wi-fi indicators. Nothing. We continued on, stopping at another hotel. More giggles and uncomfortable glances around. Apparently this wasn’t working. Walking out, we stopped at a ledge on the sidewalk, setting down our bags and signing in defeat. We texted our friends and parents, asking for the address of a hostel. Receiving a few, we flagged down a taxi and gave him the name and address of a hostel. He didn’t understand. We showed him another one. No response. We translated it to Chinese. No idea. Finally we resorted to the place where we thought we could find a hostel, Tianamen. “Tiameeehhhhhh?” Yes.
Dropping us off by the gates of the Forbidden City, we walked down the street, spotting a McDonalds. Finally, we could use wi-fi and find a place to stay. Walking into McDonalds, we happily connected to the internet. Until we realized that we had to sign up with a Chinese mobile number. The workers did not understand what we were asking for, and Becca finally asked a patron for her number so we could use it. Except them you had to confirm the number. Frustrated, we drank our orange juice and coffee, irritated because this was supposed to be our “easy” country to get around. Approaching two young foreign guys, we asked them if they knew where any of our hostels were. They didn’t, but offered to direct us to their hostel. They ended up walking us to the hostel, and we found out that they were from Israel. They dropped us off at our hostel, and cheerily asked us to meet later. Relieved that we made it somewhere, we were immediately disappointed to find out that it was full. We walked down the street to another, Leo Hostel, and agreed to stay there. Dropping off our bags in our eight person room, we headed out for the day. Wandering around Tianamen Square, we decided to head to the Temple of Heaven. Acquiring a map, I directed us down Qianmen Street. Wanting to cross the street, we had to cross above the highway on a bridge with science symbols on it. Passing numerous beauty supply stores, we ducked in to see how Rebecca would look with dark hair. She’s still contemplating. Reaching a dead end, we turned and kept walking. And came upon another dead end. Heading back in the same direction, we ended up walking down a large street, passing some of Beijing’s low-income housing. Asking a younger guy if we were heading in the right direction, he smiled sheepishly as our respective languages evaded each other again. Smiling and walking away, an older man biking by and seeing this interaction stopped and said “do you speak English?” We almost hugged him. We were going in the correct direction and reached the Temple about forty minutes later. Wandering through, we appreciated the architecture and natural beauty of this area.

Temple of Heave

      
      Leaving the Temple of Heaven from the opposite end, we were approached by men biking with little seats behind them. They ‘re everywhere and they all want to take you around instead of the taxi. Our next location, the Summer Palace, was much farther away than this Temple had been. One of the drivers insisted that he would take us there for three, which we said thirty? And he nodded. Confirming it was indeed the Summer Palace that he was taking us to, we hopped in and enjoyed the ride. “Around, we must go around,” he said gesturing with one hand. We smiled but wondered why we had to go around, maybe the streets were less busy? We quickly realized why when he dropped us off by Tianamen Square. “No, Summer Palace, here.” We pointed at our map again. He said “yes, here, around the corner.” Except it wasn’t. We knew it was much farther. We pointed again and he said too far and made a motion like he was flying a plane. Definitely not that far. Already annoyed with this little man, he then handed us a little card that basically said we had to pay him 300 yuan or he would go to the police because it’s a crime. We argued with him and then decided to just leave. Dropping a twenty on the seat, we quickly walked away.
Back at Tianamen Square, we headed to the subway. Walking through security, we bought a two yuan ticket and headed down the stairs. Trying to figure out the map, we eventually picked the direction that we thought we wanted to head in. Unfortunately, we didn’t pay attention to the name of the stop we started on, which would cause problems for us later. We transferred to another train, and ended at the stop closest to the Summer Palace. Walking up the subway stairs, we debated getting lunch now or later. Deciding on lunch later, but a snack now, we stopped at a small stand and asked for one of what the woman was making. She laughed and gestured to the rolled bread. “Yes….” After our first bite, we realized why she reacted in such a strange manner, it was just a pita/tortilla like bread pressed together. Apparently we were supposed to eat it with something else.

Summer Palace

Walking into the Summer Palace, we passed all the group tours with their waving flags and matching t-shirts. By passed, I mean squeezed, pushed and wiggled to get some distance between us. We climbed up the steps to an overview of the palace grounds and lake. The ancient architecture and hazy lake view created a truly picturesque view. Snapping photos the whole way down, we quickly came upon groups of Chinese families. All of which wanted to take photos with Becca. It became so repetitive that she finally proclaimed “I’m a person, not a thing!” She started speaking in Farsi when asked about pictures, but people just thought she was speaking English to them because they didn’t know either language. She started shaking her head and we walked away, because it became so excessive.

Summer Palace

We walked by the lake, the floating plants and the paddle boats. Walking along the lake, we felt a sprinkle. Great. Less than five minutes later, it began to downpour. And we were nowhere near cover. The umbrellas that everyone held to shield them from the sun no longer seemed so outrageous. We scrambled to get under some trees and then a little overhang. As everyone else streamed by us into the rain to awaiting cars or buses, we patiently waited out the heaviest part. Walking out into the rain, we mapped ourselves back to the subway. Hopping on, we headed toward the Olympic fields.

Olympic Stadium

Walking out of the subway, we were immediately greeted with large sculptural art pieces. And with the eerie feeling of desertion. The escalators were shut off and the wide aisles looked ridiculous compared to the tiny amount of people there. We walked toward the Bird’s Nest and the actual grounds. Walking through security, we stepped into a scene of time past. Children were running around with cotton candy and lighted toys, parents were taking pictures of their children with Minnie Mouse and photographers were insistent upon taking pictures in front of the nest stadium. The fuzzy haze encircling the scene added to the feeling that we were watching a scene from years ago. The grounds that once vibrated with throngs of people now hummed with the forced effort of vendors trying to keep the excitement alive. After snapping a few pictures, we headed out to the surrounding city to find some dinner. As we walked down the street, we passed a strange building divided into sections. Each section either had a door or barred windows, and were selling items in  bulk. We saw lots of items being sold to men on bicycles with carts, such as dolls, lotions, and the ceramic pots that we saw everyone drinking from. Apparently they don’t need to be refrigerated. Deciding there weren’t any restaurants in this direction, we headed back to the subway. And then our adventure began.
Taking the subway to a stop near Tianamen Square, we got off at a stop that we thought could possibly be near our hostel. We had an entire district that our hostel could be in. We decided on a stop, and then decided to switch trains and get off at a few stops over. Walking out, we bought water and looked around for a familiar landmark. There had to be at least one. Except there wasn’t. The large business buildings did not look familiar at all. And then we realized that we had taken the subway in the wrong direction. Exhausted and cranky, we decided to hail a cab. This took longer than expected, but we finally collapsed onto the covered seats. Asking for Qianmen Street, we were quickly given a harsh “NO.” Uhh. We took out our map and pointed-”NO.” All right then. We sighed and said Tianamen. “Tiahmeeehhhhh?” Yes. He dropped us off at the entrance to the Forbidden City and sped off. By now, it was dark and we just wanted to get dinner and go to sleep. Disagreeing on what direction to go in, we headed across the street to decide. As we went to walk down the stairs, we were stopped by a fashionably dressed mid-twenties girl. She told us Tianamen Square was closed and asked where we were from. And then her enthusiastic friend joined her and asked us to meet them at a bar for a drink. Before we left the States, a friend who lived in China told us about a scam some Chinese would do, where they invite you to a coffee shop asking to practice their English. Then, you’re presented with an exorbitant check and told that they’ll call the police if you don’t pay. Tired, irritable, and unwilling to deal with another scam, we ignored their perky inquiries and walked away. Walking in the direction I chose, we eventually came upon the subway station that we had gotten on earlier. The annoying thing was that to get there, we had to go up and down three under-the-street pathways. Finally in familiar territory, we headed to Qianmen Street.
Starving after only eating carbohydrates all day, we stopped at a restaurant to order some dinner. After perusing such items as “palace kisses the sky” and “mushroom rape” we decided on soy fried rice. After being served a bucket of it, we attempted to eat our rice with our chopsticks. After Becca made a huge mess, the waitress took pity on us and dropped off spoons. Too tired to even finish our rice bucket, we headed back to our hostel and climbed into the bunk beds.