Blue skies, Beijing

I woke up from a morning nap after returning to Beijing. The day was clear and I wanted to be outside. I biked to Bei Hai, paid the entrance fee, and began walking around the lake. I climbed to the top of the islet hill for the views of the lake and the surroundings. The large white dagoba towered behind me. I climbed down to the southern entrance and walked clockwise around the islet, through a colonnade painted with Chinese images. In the lake, people guided boats over the water.

I walked with the crowds, visiting temples and courtyards. On one end of the park, I saw the 9 dragon screen, one of three famous 9 dragon screens in China (and the only one that's double-sided). I had seen a second one in Da Tong (the largest of the three), but I was uncertain where to find the third. A tour guide shouted out the information through a megaphone, but I decided to walk on in search of quiet.

I walked across a zig zagging bridge connecting various pavilions. In each, a group had laid claim to the space. In one, a woman prepared to karaoke. In another, five men sang Chinese songs in loud operatic voices. In a third, women practiced ballroom dancing. I left the pavilions and moved back to the main promenade. A man practiced calligraphy with a large brush dipped in water. He wrote on the black bricks of the walkway. The characters shone in the sun, then slowly evaporated. A few people picked up brushes and tried their hand at inscribing their names onto the earth. I walked on.

In a courtyard, a woman practiced tai chi, a sword in each hand. In another, women jazzercised to a practiced repetitive routine. I walked on.

I found myself on the western edge of the lake. Signs seemed to indicate there was nothing to see. They suggested taking a boat back across the water or walking back the way I had come. I enjoyed the quiet. Willow trees swayed in the wind. Tour groups kept their distance. A western woman jogged along the path.

I exited through the western gate, crossed a busy bridge, and re-entered through the southern gate. I took photos of the dagoba, rising on its island hill above a pond of broad lotus leaves. A man looked at my camera. "Leica!" he said. I looked at his: "Rollei," I countered. We sat down and compared cameras. He said he was a freelance web designer and programmer working for Chinese and European clients. We exchanged information and he told me of a second-hand camera market. He wrote down the name for me and showed me how to get there. He said he had a friend with a darkroom and if I were to return and wanted to make prints, to let him know. He told me that next week the largest camera swap meet of the year would happen at the camera market, but I told him I would be in Shanghai.

We bid each other well. He returned to photographing the trees and flowers. I rode to the nearby Jingshan park to climb another hill for the views over the Forbidden City. The summit temple was crowded with tourists jostling for the same photo. The sun raked shadows across Beijing. Over the shoulder of the Forbidden City, the Egg loomed like an alien spaceship. To the east, the new CCTV tower hooked itself over the horizon.

I had dinner on the northeast corner of Ritan Park. I met up with Ed and T— and some of her colleagues. To reach the restaurant I biked through a Russian neighborhood. The signs were suddenly in cyrillic, and I could see Russians walking into restaurants or waiting cars.

The next morning I looked through concert listings for something to do in the evening. We had thought about seeing a show at the Egg, but the listings didn't sound very interesting. Browsing the web I saw that Diana Krall was playing a concert in Beijing. I knew T— enjoyed her music from her ipod, and I bought tickets for Sunday's performance.

That afternoon, Ed and I took a cab to the Fragrant Hills. We left late, and it was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived. Walking to the main gate, we felt like salmon swimming upstream through a river of people. Once inside the park, the buzz of conversation made it sound like we were at a rock concert. We climbed 45 minutes up stone steps to reach the summit where we had sweeping views over the city. It felt like we were in the Hollywood Hills looking out over Los Angeles. The CCTV building gleamed in the setting sun.

Sunday, we went to the Panjiayuan market. It was surprisingly orderly, selling the usual Chinese bric a brac, but in the back we found an interesting book market. Stalls lined the back wall of the market, tucked in an alleyway bounded by the rear of shop buildings. From there, we took a cab to the antique furniture street where Ed and T— checked in on the cabinets they were having made.

That night we ate dinner at a Zhejian restaurant near their house. The food was fantastic, perhaps the best meal I have had on the whole in Beijing. We took a cab to the expo center and raced in to find our seats. Outside, people sold lighted devil horns and binoculars. Scalpers lined the access road. The start time was listed as 7:30 but as we took our seats, we saw many empty seats.

Ten minutes later, a Chinese announcement told us to turn off cell phones and to not take photos. A flash appeared from the audience. People began to get up and move up to empty seats. We got up to move. A western man sitting beside us stood and asked if they had announced we could change seats. We said, no, people were just doing it. He sat back down.

We found ourselves with great seats in the front of the second section. The concert began and the audience welcomed her to Beijing. She sang beautifully; her phrasing was impeccable, though her piano solos seemed to get away from her. She said it was great to be in Beijing and said it was interesting to arrive at the theater and have someone try to scalp her tickets to her own concert. She joked that she had to argue with him to make sure she got a good price.

During "Devil May Care" she donned a pair of devil horns and said that it appeared that she was the only person who bought them. She said Halloween was coming up, so she thought it appropriate. She talked about her children and her marriage to Elvis Costello, and about Canadian Thanksgiving. It turned out that the concert fell on that holiday.

She played standards and she played "A case of you." The latter she played solo, accompanying herself on piano, and I was amazed what a beautiful rendition it was.

After the concert we walked back around to the front of the expo center. A large plaza built over one of the ring roads was packed with people enjoying the warm evening. In front of the expo center, people flew kites, attaching strings of flashing lights to the kite strings. In the hazy sky, they twinkled like stars.
Posted by eku at October 12, 2008 12:44 PM