Beijing - Day 1 - Tiananmen

The plane from Harbin to Beijing was temperamental, jerking about in the windy skies like a Parkinson's patient. By the time the landing gear deployed, the plane was experiencing full-on convulsions. A dozen barf bags ripped opened in unison. The first sound of hurling set Vanessa off. Others followed in much the same way dominoes fall. I clutched my bag, trying to block out the audio. It didn't help that they had fed us fish.

We arrived at our hotel in one piece, if slightly lighter. I had booked the place purely on location (and price), just outside of Metro Line 2; so I was thrilled when it turned out to be a charming, comfy place – with architecture in the style of an old Chinese courtyard, inner garden, and staff in traditional dress. Check-in hit a snag when they had no idea what this “Orbitz” was we had booked with, but we got through it.

Then I was locked out of my bag. We had bought luggage locks to keep our stuff safe on the trains. Now the combination to one particular lock had decided to change itself. We tried 50 variations of the original combination but nothing. At last I was able to jimmy off the zippers that held the lock in place, a crude but effective solution. Panic concluded, we hopped on the metro and went to Tiananmen Square.

It was strange to be walking through a place I had read so much about in my study of modern Chinese history. Beyond the several books on Mao Zedong's life I have read, I have designed sections in history textbooks on the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. Tiananmen Square is always featured prominently in these books – a gathering place for the Chinese masses to hear their godly leader. So as we approached Mao's giant hanging portrait at the far-end of the square, it didn't surprise me that I had a “Mona Lisa Moment.”

Let me explain. Da vinci is a sort of historical hero of mine. Here's a man so thoroughly gifted in both art and science, who lived such a colorful life. He was always my answer to the cliched hypothetical question: “If you could have lunch with one figure throughout human history, who would it be?” His most famous portrait, the Mona Lisa, has become its own sort of cliché. It's familiar to everyone, seen everywhere. Despite its historical significance, in many ways it has become the epitome of art mundane. Yet, many years ago, when I approached it for the first time at the Louvre, I experienced the strangest sensation. Seeing the actual portrait, not some photograph, gave me goosebumps, took my breath away.

And so it was with the giant portrait of Mao. I felt a chill just staring up at his smug, crazy-eyed face. The man killed more then 50 million people with his destructive policies, razed countless works of art and literature from existence, silenced intellectuals and anyone with an opposing voice. Not a good dude. All the same, the giant portrait of Mao on Tiananmen square has made my short-list of “Mona Lisa Moments.” Congrats Mao, you bastard.

As the sun set, we watched the official flag-lowering ceremony on the square along with hundreds of Chinese and a few foreigners. Beijing is a tourist-friendly city, with an easy-to-figure-out Metro system, plenty of signs and announcements in English, and abundant scammers waiting for a mark. We were approached by “art students” who spoke very good English and claimed to be in Beijing on holiday. While conversing, they led us through a park, and to a coffee shop. They seemed annoyed when we declined the invitation to go in – but I had read too many stories on the internet of “tea-ceremony scams” where you end up paying for things you had not signed up for. We did promise to text the students about hanging out the next day (after all, there was the small chance they were genuine) but we sort of forgot to follow-through there.

 

Our hotel: the Soluxe Courtyard, outside and lobby.

 

Vanessa, in her "snow queen" outfit, often gets asked to pose for photos with people's kids.

People keep mistaking us both for Russians. I suppose we have a bit of that look.

Harbin Ice and Snow Festival

We've been set loose into the wilds of China. Lu is staying in Mudanjiang to spend more time with her family before heading back to Shanghai to start working for eBay/Paypal. We will no longer have her around to hold our hands, which is essentially what she has been doing up until this point. Now we'll be totally on our own. Except, as it turns out, not quite yet.

Our next destination was Harbin, which Ness and I had prepared to handle. We researched hotels, read up on the taxi situation (apparently they like to bamboozle people, up in Harbin), traced routes to the airport, etc. Then Lu's dad caught wind of the situation and insisted we have help. I believe he thinks we will end up destitute on the streets, shivering in the cold, perhaps considering a life of prostitution if left to ourselves (I'm sure news of my “mugging” didn't help this perception.). He called a friend of his living in Harbin and made arrangements.

We took a 4-hour bus north through the frosty white countryside and were dropped off at a street in downtown Harbin, where it is -14 C during the day and -23 C at night. We had been sweating in our multitude of layers on the bus but were instantly missing it as soon as we stepped into Dr. Cold's Wonderland of Pain. This is a kind of cold that backhands you repeatedly in the face, insults your mother, and then issues several hard kicks to the groin. Not pleasant.

Lu's dad had instructed us to stay where we were until “Uncle Joe (Zhou)” came to get us. I had Ness teach me how to say “Are you Uncle Joe?” in Chinese, but the only people who approached us for the first little while were taxi drivers, none of whom were named Joe.

While we waited, I ran across the street to the public toilets. Upon entering, a lady at a booth screamed something at me, which clearly meant she wanted money. Realizing I forgot how to say “how much?” I flashed my fingers in a counting motion, and she favored me with a dead glare and said "dur." Dur – in much the same sound and intonation as someone with, shall we say, limited mental capacity. I have no idea what "dur" means – it is not one of the numbers 1 through 10 I had so carefully memorized. Pretending to understood, I just handled her my smallest bill, 1 yuan, and she handed me change. First solo Chinese transaction a success!

I returned to Ness and learned she had been able to text Uncle Joe and got a response that he would be there in 5 minutes. Go Ness! True to his word, Joe pulled up with his wife and 7-year-old daughter. She came bursting out of the car and said “Hello! Nice to meet you!” in heavily accented but adorable English. And then we were off. Ness was able to make small talk in the car with Uncle Joe and his wife. I mostly smiled and pretended to know what was going on. I have had to do this a lot lately.

What followed was a day of wonder, awe, and awkwardness. Wonder and awe for everything we saw. Awkward because a family of total strangers dropped everything for a day and became our guide and chauffeurs. They took us to a place to eat, bought us food (refusing to let us pay them), then to an inexpensive hotel to check in, then through the substantial traffic to the world famous Harbin Ice and Snow Festival. The festival is divided in two, on one side of Sun Island is Snow World with hundreds of amazing snow sculptures, and the other side is the ice festival with gigantic lit structures built with blocks of ice.

Getting into the exhibits was insanity. The entrances were packed with people, more packed than even our train travels at the height of the Spring Festival. Once through the ticket lines and entrances, however, the crowds spread out a bit. I won't go into detail describing everything we saw, I'll let the pictures do it. Suffice it to say, it was pure eye candy. Delicious eye candy.

Uncle Joe was waiting to take us back to our hotel as we left. He even met us the next morning and took us to the airport, refusing the money we tried to pay him. I just wish we could have been more interesting for him. Ness's limited (and my nonexistent) grasp of the language kept the conversation to a minimum. Yet Joe seemed happy to take us around, all the same. Lu says it's a cultural thing – that people in China bend over backwards for their friends (in this case, friends of friends). It certainly is an admirable thing, even if it did make our time together a bit awkward. As he left us at the security line at the airport, we thanked Uncle Joe profusely.

And now we really are functioning on our own. I know because I'm writing this from the future. Stay tuned.

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

Ness got to hold an arctic fox. She immediately wanted to own one.

Mudanjiang: A Day in Photos

We spent the first day of the lunar new year out in the bustle of Mudanjiang, enjoying street foods, being attacked by pigeons, and participating in the ice festivities at the city park. I'm going to let these photos assist me in telling the story:

Street vendors were out in dozens, despite the holiday. We tried candied fruit kebabs, seasoned meat kebabs, baked yams, and this lovely squid-on-a-stick (note: I could not finish squid-on-a-stick due to the grodiness of the seasoning). One food we avoided: "stinky tofu." It smells like rotting garbage but is said to taste delicious. I am going with my nose on this one.

A man was selling pigeon feed for 3 yuan. The pigeons gathered in great anticipation of our purchase. They were particularly fond of Vanessa....

But Lu and I had our fair share of pigeon love...

Then the city park, which had ice sculptures and cotton candy.

The letters read: "Mudanjiang Ice Castle"

Down below the park, the Mudan river was frozen a meter thick. 10 yuan to scoot around the river on chair-sleds. 15 yuan for the ice slides...

We didn't get any photos of the hours we spent sliding down the ice slides onto the river. But I did get some video. I've been holding off posting any video of this trip until a later date when I can compile it all together. But I thought I'd share this little clip I took while going down the slide.

Year of the Tiger

Of one thing I am certain: there are no evil spirits left in all of Mudanjiang. Really, they've all been scared away. In this apartment complex alone, fire crackers go off every 3.5 seconds. Long, booming strings of them, all day and all night. Lu says it's a tradition to ward off evil spirits. I say ain't no way there's a spirit left to hear it. The spirits of my ear drums fled long ago.

It's the Year of the Tiger and we've all been celebrating. Red lanterns and lights are hanging from the balcony. Paper banners with the characters for health and prosperity surround the door. And food, lots of food. Rice from the paddies of the famous lake nearby, fiery shrimp, mantis shrimp, local sausages, local black fungus, all manner of vegetable dishes both spicy and sweet, fish garnished with its own unborn babies...the list goes on. We ate and ate and toasted away the waning Year of the Ox.

Festival eve was a lazy day, spent watching the Olympics opening ceremony and other television (Chinese shows be craaazy), eating candy and fruit, and much surfing of the internet. Our hosts refused to let us help with the cooking or serving. I couldn't even put a cup back into the kitchen without Lu's dad intercepting me. My insistence that I REALLY like to help fell on deaf ears, so there wasn't much else to do.

As soon as it got dark, the constant din of firecrackers was joined by the boom of full-on fireworks lighting up the night sky, all set off by neighbors. I'm not sure if there's an official show out in the city, but there doesn't seem to be a need for one. The people make shows of their own, launching things that would never be legal in the states.

As midnight approached, we bundled up and went into the courtyard to set off some fireworks of our own. We did strings of firecrackers, of course. But then also long tubes that sent blooming flowers of light high over the 8-story complex. Lu's dad used his cigarette to light the fuses, and handed it to Ness and I to light some ourselves. The out-and-out danger of it put any 4th of July celebration I've participated in to shame.

At midnight we had dumplings, another festival eve tradition, this one because the dumplings are shaped like ancient Chinese coins and thus bring luck and prosperity. Although the sheer volume of celebration would doubtless be crazier in Shanghai, I was so glad to be in Mudanjiang with Lu's wonderful family. How often does a white guy from the west get to experience a traditional New Year celebration in a Chinese home? It is pretty terrific.

Feast!

 

Midnight Dumplings

  

Grandma eats a dumpling that Ness wrapped (she tried!)

  

 

Lu took this photo. No one knows what Ness is doing.

Mudanjiang

Lu's parents and cousin met us at the station as our train shuddered to a stop. We could see them from the window, smiling big and waving at us. There were quick greetings and we were swept into a taxi. Mudanjjiang is big! I was expecting something much smaller, but downtown looks like it was cut right out of Shanghai. We were dropped at a tall apartment complex somewhere in a maze of buildings and walked up 7 flights of stairs (Lu's dad and cousin insisting on carrying our luggage.) From the outside, the complex looks pretty run down so I was not expecting much as we opened the front door.

The apartment is amazing. Gleaming dark wood floors, stylish doors and cabinets, beautiful paint and color scheme, circular and geometric patterns in the walls and ceiling, gigantic television. It is all very modern. Ness and I are staying in Lu's old room, which is plenty roomy with wireless internet (yes!). Lu's family has been so good to us. As soon as we were settled, we went off to a fancy-pants restaurant – the kind that has doormen and private dining halls. Then followed a couple hours of pure deliciousness. The round dining table contained an inner carousel of vegetables and meats to be placed in the boiling hot pot near our plates. Naturally we encouraged to constantly eat, and eat we did. Lu's dad was fond of making toasts and Lu translated where she could. He welcomed us to China, said that no matter the political relations between our countries we are friends. He also made sure to note that although it is very cold in northern China, the hearts of the people are much warmer than in Shanghai. Lu's mother, cousin, and aunt were all smiles.

After the meal, we walked in the cold streets for a few blocks to recover from all the food. The traffic in Mudanjiang is just as crazy as in Shanghai. Taxis almost ran me down more than once. They don't stop or even seem to notice pedestrians. Traffic rules are suggestions rather than law, or perhaps more accurately, things to blatantly ignore. It reminds me of Dakar in that sense.

As we walked, we saw groups of people out in the streets burning piles of paper. Lu said it symbolized burning money for the ancestors, a tradition to be done in the days leading to the Spring Festival. The glow of fires was spread out in clusters down the city blocks, sending ashes out into the chilly winds. This is a cold that penetrates layers like a knife through soft butter. I had on several undershirts, sweaters, and a thick coat but I could still feel it.

At the apartment we gave Lu's mom an Estee Lauder skin care set I had picked out in the states (Lu had said she loves that brand and it's hard to get in China) and her dad a copy of our dad's CD. They seemed very pleased. I'm not really able to communicate with anyone besides Lu, and I admit it's a little awkward, but I feel very welcomed all the same.