Beijing Diary

Here is part 1 of a diary I kept during a 10-day visit to Beijing last month.

The formalities of entry were smooth, though it was a long walk from the gate to the immigration area, where we were screened electronically for body temperature, and then photographed at the desk to make sure that we corresponded in the flesh to the photo in the passport. One small moment of humour:  the agent had to adjust the camera positioning to get my face centre frame. Her first attempt, using a joy-stick, had only my mouth and the upper part of my face showing. She then over-corrected, showing only my rather large gut! On the third attempt, she got it right, suppressing a giggle either at her lack of skill or my gut, I can’t be sure which.

At last we were out, passing through customs with ease since the authorities use the honour system for declaring goods, occasionally pulling someone over for a thorough check. And there was Gordon! What a relief to be met in a country where I know not a single word of mandarin. He led us to the elevator that took us down two levels to the taxi rank, where a long line had formed. But such is the efficiency of the taxi system we waited only a few minutes beofre we squeezed into a medium sedan and were off to the hotel. Gordon has been in China just over a year, but has learned enough of the language to get by. He gave the taxi driver the address, and off we went.

Beijing is constructed in a series of concentric circles, and our hotel, the Zaoyuanju Hotel (also called the Hutong Inn) lies in the second ring (the first being the centre of the city)  in the Doncheng District.  Gordon had looked up the hotel on a map, and knew roughly where it was, but as he explained, house numbers mean nothing in Beijing; all buildings have a number, but  numbering is not sequential. When it became clear that we had missed the hotel, we stopped and Gordon called the hotel to get more precise directions. These were relayed to the driver, who did a u-turn, drove fifty yards, then stopped. We were there!

Or almost.  We were now at the entrance to Zhangwang Hutong, a narrow laneway, lined with small shops, workshops, cafes, a public toilet and houses, and in which were parked an assortment of vehicles: late-model BMWs, electric bicycles, push bikes, three-wheelers with boxes on the back. No wonder the taxi-driver was reluctant to venture down there!  So Gordon paid the fare –75 yuan (about $10) and we trundled our luggage about 75 yards down the laneway to the hotel.  It was a pleasant surprise.  A clean, bright entrance way (in stark contrast to the laneway where dust covered everything) and a friendly greeting, in English. Because we were staying for ten nights, we had received a complimentary up-grade.  A young boy carried two of the suitcases (one of them almost as large as him) up the stairs to the room, showed us how to use the electronic key, and left, with a bow. No tipping in China! The room is not large, but we do have a king-size bed, separate toilet and shower, flat-screen TV (not yet tried), but no internet access in the room. And we each have a terry-towelling bathrobe.  All for $303!

After a minor panic over Heather’s credit card, we set out with Gordon to explore the neighbourhood on foot. So much to see and comment on. I’ve taken some photos, so I’ll leave commentary until I have up-loaded those. I can’t remember how long we walked, but we did pass in front of the Bell Tower and the Drum Tower, and then decided it was time for refreshment.   We chose a small café-bar called the Iggly Wiggly, and sat down to enjoy beer (Gordon and I) and a glass of Spanish wine (Heather). Gordon called his friend Brian, who joined us about 15 minutes later for a drink, and then we set off to find a restaurant. Brian was born in Hong Kong but has travelled widely, including doing a degree at NASCAD at the same time that Heather was there! He was studying photography, so their paths did not cross, but they were able to share memories of teachers.

Iggly Wiggly, like many similar bars in the area, is owned by young people who re-invent their décor regularly to keep up-to-date. When I sat down, the chair set was lower than I anticipated, so I landed with a thump, much to the amusement of the young owner who rushed over to move a divider to give me more room. In Australia I had not thought of myself as large, but in Beijing I clearly stand out.

We wandered back to the main road, after paying a visit to my first public toilet (cafes and bars don’t have such facilities), and eventually chose a mainstream (ie not a regional or ethnic) restaurant to have our evening meal. Gordon and Brian did the choosing, though we could probably have managed since the menu was presented with colour photos.  Nothing was too spicy, and we had an array of dishes, mainly vegetarian with tofu, steamed rice, one lamb dish, beer and a pot of tea for Y40 each (about $6).

It was a little disturbing, during the meal to see the waitresses arguing very loudly with each other, but it is, apparently common practice, a way of maintaining one’s superiority, no matter how slight, in a very long pecking order.

We did not prolong the evening, said good-bye to Brian and Gordon, and I was in bed at 10.10, and asleep by 10.11…