Beijing Diary: Part 8

Wednesday 20 April.

The weather forecast promised a sunny day on Wednesday, but rain on Thursday, so we changed our plans and chose to go to the Summer Palace first. And instead of taking a taxi, we decided to brave the experience of the subway. I had looked up a couple of sites on the web, and their descriptions of how to use the subway were rather daunting, involving paying different amounts to transfer to some lines. We asked at the desk and were told it was simple: buy a Y2 ticket each and go wherever you liked!

We were relying on a tourist map to identify the subway lines, and I misread it. We purchased the tickets without difficulty, proceeded to the platform and eventually, after a schematic outline of the stops got on the right train. Two stops along we had to change, and this was where my misreading led us astray as I confidently headed us for Line 13, a convoluted route up several escalators, along corridors, outside under covered walkways, then down staircases until we arrvived at the platform where none of the stations on the line seemed familiar. So we retraced our steps, following the signs now for Line 4. In no time we were at the station for the Summer Palace. The subway system is clean and swift, with clear indications on illuminated maps as to where you are, and announcements about which station you are approaching in Chinese and English.

In spite of various entreaties by rickshaw drivers to take their mode of transportation to the Palace, we walked there in just a few minutes, enjoying along the way the performance of a street-food seller who, on a large spinning metal disk spread out a kind of pancake mix, then broke an egg on top of that, before lifting and folding the product into a pie-shaped piece about a foot long. His assistant then took the folded pancake and, according to wishes of the customer, adding the various fillings before folding it over into a manageable size.

As we stood trying to make sense of the ticket prices, we were approached by a young woman who offered her services a s a guide for free. All we had to do was fill in a form at the end of the visit to give comments about her performance. The guide was training to be a professional, and she had to complete five such assignments as part of her training. It turned out that Sherri, her English name, was an English major at the university and that she was aiming to use the qualification only for the purposes of a part-time job. We agreed and I went off to buy the “through” tickets, ie that would let us in to most areas of interest.

Sherri’s English was good, and of course she had all the historical and cultural information we needed. But when Heather asked her questions about some of the plants and trees, aside from peonies, she was at a bit of a loss. Sherri kept up the flow of facts and figures as we went into certain rooms, including the theatre where three young girls were performing a version of the long sleeve dance. The stage was created solely for the Emperor and empress and their guests and was a three-tiered affair which allowed for three separate but simultaneous performances. The dance was followed by a traditional comic act between good and evil, the actors being dressed in white and black respectively so there could be no doubt as to their moral qualities. Our guided tour ended with a walk along part of the “long corridor”, an outdoor walkway some 750 metres long with over 40,000 decorative pictures. We walked only halfway, reaching the entrance to Longevity Hill, where, traditon has it, if one climbs the many hundreds of steps to the top, on can gain a longer life – if you don’t die in the attempt.

We filled in Sherri’s form, which gave her great pleasure, and off she went back to the entrance to find another group willing to help her fulfill her assignment. We did not attempt the climb, but stayed at the bottom for a rest and to get something to eat and drink.

We wandered back along the outside of the corridor – and bumped into Sherri guiding another group, this time Chinese by the looks of them. She beamed when she saw us. Close to the exit we sat a while listening to a man playing a Chinese flute accompanied by an instrumental cd and watching the pedalo boats on the lake. Then back to the subway and the trip back to the hotel. This second journey felt much more comfortable and we negotiated the transfer without a problem.

Again we felt too tired to go out to eat, so the simple expedient of nodles in a cannister had to suffice.