Coming out to play in Beijing

The Great Wall lit up at night

I haven't seen this many changes since the autumn of 1989, when it seemed like every day a different Soviet satellite state government in Eastern Europe was falling. In China (where we don't talk about the spring of 1989) the COVID-19 situation around Christmas and New Year's is almost unrecognizable compared to how things stood when Thanksgiving rolled around last month. As I prepare to post this blog, we can now go virtually anywhere without having to show a negative coronavirus status. Both my daughter and I will be returning to in-person learning from next week. And, best of all, the Chinese government has announced it will lift most of the restrictions for inbound and outbound travelers, starting January 8. As a result, my employer has informed us that we are now free to travel, both within China and, more importantly, to locales other than the United States from China. Time to start planning those long-delayed trips! 

But here is still China, and the coronavirus continues to take its toll at an alarming rate. The threat remains, which means the sudden reversals of the past month could be reversed yet again should things take a turn for the worse. But for now I'm feeling something I haven't felt in quite some time - optimism (especially in comparison to my last blog post). Perhaps some interest in learning Mandarin could even be rekindled, though it's probably more prudent to take things one step at a time and not get ahead of ourselves. Seeing as I've just been diagnosed as clinically depressed, all it would take is yet another policy U-turn to send me back into the depths of existential angst. But until that moment comes, the following is a recap of the past few days, including our first overnight trip (though not outside of the Beijing 北京 city limits). Read on...

All those years I lived in Taiwan, married to a Taiwanese woman, not to mention the two years we lived in Shanghai, and it was only recently that I learned (courtesy of one of my teachers) the winter solstice is also the occasion known as Dōngzhì 冬至, one of the most important Chinese festivals (at least according to Wikipedia). In more than twenty years of marriage Shu-E had never once mentioned the festival, and it was only when I queried her about it on the day of the solstice (which occurred on the 22nd at 0548 hours Beijing time) that she prepared some traditional fare. Here in northern China it's customary for people to eat dumplings for the Dongzhi Festival. But Taiwan's culture is closely related to that of southern China, and there the celebratory fare is tāngyuán 汤圆, glutinous rice balls, so that is what we had for dessert on Dongzhi, following a non-traditional dinner of Japanese-style curried rice:

As with any date on the Chinese traditional character, there is a list of things to do and not to do.

There's a surprisingly diverse number of birds living in our housing compound, many of which seem to be too stupid to escape Beijing's frigid temperatures and fly south to warmer climes. My wife took this photo from our daughter's bedroom window:

Shu-E also snapped this shot. She says this bird always appears outside our bedroom window around the same time every morning. A reverse images search failed to turn up the identities of these fowl creatures:

Christmas Eve, and despite the continuing spread of the coronavirus, people were starting to head out of their homes again, perhaps drawn like moths to the colorful seasonal lights. There was a traffic jam on Liangma Qiao Road 亮马桥路 caused by all the cars heading towards the SOLANA shopping mall, while some ventured out onto the ice (with at least person bringing their skates):

For dinner on the 24th we took the Japanese クリスマス route and had some KFC delivered. For libations, I selected a Zinnbach Kung Fu Pepper 功夫麻椒 beer. I could taste the herbs but not the peppers:

Another Christmas Day in the books. Amber seemed happy with her gifts, which included a beanbag chair from MUJI, and an H.P. Lovecraft book. Regarding the latter, according to a friend "a good parent wouldn't let their daughter read that demon worship manual. Santa doesn't visit Hell on Christmas." The realization then dawned that my wife and I are terrible parents. The realization also dawned that "Santa doesn't visit Hell on Christmas" would be a good title for a heavy metal Xmas track:

My main gift this year could hardly be described as a scholarly tome, but then I'm no longer an English teacher working in an Asian country trying to one up their English-teaching colleagues on who is more knowledgeable on the subject of that particular Asian country. At this stage in life I'm content with literary eye candy:

At Shu-E's suggestion, our Christmas dinner was taken at a nearby Japanese restaurant for an all-you-can-eat feast 食べ放題. The number of customers sitting near our table was a cause of concern, though an even bigger source of worry was this can of "knock-off Calpis", as Amber described it:

My wife took care of the ordering, which means we ended up with far too many meat and seafood dishes, and not much in the way of vegetation, though I managed to sneak in a small salad and some edamame:

Did I mention it was "all you can eat"? It was also "all you can drink" 飲み放題. Several sake flasks later, I was feeling that Xmas spirit:

For next year, however, I might insist on savoring a more traditional British feast (if one can be found wherever we happen to be at that time, however):

The seasonal lights at SOLANA (where the restaurant was located) also drew the crowds:

As the 25th was drawing to a close and I was listening to one of my YouTube playlists on shuffle, Crass' "Reality Asylum" popped up, a "song" that is simultaneously appropriate and inappropriate on Christmas Day (or any other date on the calendar, for that matter). It must be an inevitability that comes with age, but I've noticed on social media certain friends of mine becoming noticeably more religious (read "Christian") with their postings. Considering they never used to be so upfront with their thoughts on the subject, combined with the frequency of such postings, makes we wonder if such awareness is a newfound "awakening". Is it the idea that the universe might be infinite in both space and time, and therefore rendering as utterly meaningless any "accomplishments" we want to share on LinkedIn? I'm fine with that, but for others the realization could be absolutely terrifying to consider. 

How confident they are in these beliefs if they feel the need to remind the world of them at any opportunity is an open question, but what chafes at times is the presumption that the role Christianity has played in Western culture/history/society must be universal, even though, for example, classics of Asian literature such as "The Tale of Genji" 源氏物語 or "The Dream of the Red Chamber" 红楼梦 were in no way influenced by the Fall (sorry, J.R.R. Tolkien). One of the reasons I've always been fascinated with Japan is the very limited influence Christianity has played in shaping the country, except in the late 16th-early 17th centuries, when the Japanese authorities, rightfully perceiving it as a threat, crushed the religion. The end result is this advertising campaign poster from the early 2000's for the DVD release of The Passion of the Christ:

It's difficult to make out, but the main copy line in Japanese (クリスマスが殺されて、クリスマスは生まれた) translates as "Christ was killed, Christmas was born". As the friend who first brought this masterpiece to my attention pointed out, the Roman soldier salaryman on the left carrying a box of KFC is "pure genius".

Boxing Day was a federal holiday this year thanks to Christmas falling on a Monday. We didn't do much on the 26th, but as the week from Tuesday to Friday was designated as "self-study" (and our daughter still being on her winter break), we did use the time to get out of the house on several occasions, joining the ever-increasing numbers of Beijingers venturing back outside. Walking through a subway station while transferring between lines, I passed by a series of adverts by the Japan National Tourist Organization torturing me with promoting winter activities in Japan:

Back to eating out again, this time at a Chinese restaurant where the staff spoke to each other in a dialect impervious to my wife's comprehension. It didn't help that the diner's menu featured dishes from all over China, making it difficult for her to pin down where the employees might be from. One country, at least 302 languages spoken by some accounts:

As in Taiwan, many apartments in China feature barred windows, the majority of which are potential fire traps:

If our final destination on this day looks familiar, it's because I'd previously visited the Southeast Corner Watchtower 东南角楼 during Immersion Week back in October:

While eating lunch earlier, I checked the weather app, which indicated the temperature outside to be -1°C/30°F, with a windchill of -7°C/19°F. Atop the watchtower and exposed to the elements, it felt a lot colder!:

The girls watch trains leaving Beijing Railway Station 北京火车站:

On the outside of the tower is graffiti scratched by American and Russian soldiers who had overwhelmed the redoubt during the Boxer Rebellion on their way to relieve the Legation Quarter:

Inside the tower is an exhibit on the gates that were part of the wall formations that used to encircle central Beijing:

Among the figurines were these foreign barbarians:

Flagpole stones that were used to fly banners of the military organizations garrisoning the city:

The remains of the city walls to the west:

Shu-E gets one last shot of the watchtower before descending the ramparts:

We then took a chilly stroll through the Ming City Wall Ruins Park 明城墙遗址公园. This park is all that remains of the once-extensive city wall system that enveloped the capital from the early years of the Ming dynasty 明朝. The last of the walls had been dismantled in the 1950's to make way for the 2nd Ring Road and Line 2 of the subway. However, starting in the late 1990's a "donate bricks" campaign was launched, encouraging people to return original wall bricks that had been removed for various building projects. The result was the restoration of this section of wall and the creation of the park:

Toward the end of the year, we made our first tentative steps at travel. We didn't leave the city, and thus didn't violate any work-related restrictions. Beijing, however, is a huge administrative area, and it took around two hours in a hired car to reach our destination, though the scenery once we left the main urban zones was less than inspiring:

For our inaugural overnight excursion, Shu-E had selected Gubei Water Town 古北水镇. Unlike Shanghai 上海, Beijing isn't surrounded by waterways and the historic old towns that grew up along their banks. Gubei was created as a commercial venture in 2014, and probably doesn't merit the number of photos I'm sharing on this post. But the town is situated at the foot of the Simitai 司马台 section of the Great Wall 长城 (seen in the background of the below pic) and it was our first trip away from our residence:

The girls at the entrance to the water town:

The village is an atmospheric recreation of courtyard homes and waterways, with a handful of genuine historic buildings:

Daytime temperatures were significantly colder than in Beijing's center, and most of the waterways were frozen over, allowing for wintertime activities such as ice skating. Amber and I were fascinated by the frozen oxygen bubbles suspended in the water:

Gubei is home to a large family of semi-feral cats, who were nonetheless tolerant of visitors and their cameras:

We found our accommodation (the Opera Inn), dropped off our things and had lunch in the restaurant there. Shu-E looks at a map of the village, deciding where to go next:

Inside the room:

The views from our window, with the Simatai wall visible in the background:

The entrance to the Opera Inn:

I'm assuming the inn was named because it faces the courtyard where the Peking opera 京剧 stage is located. We caught a performance snippet after lunch:

Visiting a temple (which also serves as a hotel) at one end of the village:

The view overlooking the village and looking toward Simatai:

My wife was especially interested in the Yongshun Dye House:

Amber ended up doing some DIY on a small loom:

Outside the Sima Liquor Distillery:

As the sun began to set, the Great Wall came alive, illuminated with lights set into the battlements. It was impressive sight to behold from the village:

A cable car takes passengers to the Simatai Great Wall after dark (as well as during daylight hours). We considered going, but the temperature in the water town after sunset had dropped to -7°C/19°F, and would probably be even colder at the top of the ridge:

Besides, it was dinner time, so we headed back into the center of Gubei:

And we were just in time to see what I assumed at first were lanterns but which were, in fact, drones:

My wife got some decent pictures and videos with her superior iPhone:

By the time we finished dinner and returned to our inn, the temperature had dropped to -9°C/16°F. Waking up the next morning, it was -13°C/7°F (outdoors, fortunately; our room was heated):

By the time we had breakfast and checked out of the inn, it had warmed up to -6°C/21°F (yes, I often glance at the weather app on my phone). The chill didn't stop the acrobats from putting on a show outdoors for the visitors:

Whatever compelled the Ming authorities to build the wall along the spine of the Yan Mountains 燕山? Impressive thought it may be, it failed at keeping out the invading Manchu forces:

The village boasts a Roman Catholic church, though it's authenticity as a house of worship wasn't clear:

The girls inside a temple, looking at prayers left by those seeking love partners. One writer even left her phone number on the message. "For a good time call Meihua at 555-...":

Amber did some more DIY, this time coloring a kite:

Locals looking for a handout:

Today Beijing, tomorrow China, the day after tomorrow East Asia and the rest of the world? A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single lifting of travel restrictions, as the saying I coined just now goes. With the Lunar New Year on the horizon, we might take the first tentative steps toward getting out of Beijing entirely. That is, unless millions of Chinese also have an urge to travel (and after nearly three years of Zero-COVID who can blame them?) and therefore drive the current epidemic to unimaginable levels. In which case 2023 could end up being much like 2022 or 2021 or 2020. 

新年快乐…