The Summer Gardens, Kung Fu & Massage

On Thursday, I spent a lazy morning online, then had Indian food (delicious) with Fergus before the two of us headed off the the Summer Palace and Gardens. Fergus is the rugged sort of backpacker, so there was no question but that we'd take the bus, or buses as the case actually was. We caught the first bus, under my admirable leadership, with no problem. Then Fergus took the reins firmly in hand, decided that the directions given at the hostel were inadequate and proudly used his 20 words of Chinese to find a different bus than we were told to take that would get us to the palace. Great work! Or, it would have been if he hadn't landed us on the local bus that took an indirect route to the Palace rather than the express bus that we were told to take. ARGH! I had been enjoying the experience of not being the one to research and figure things out and deal with talking to people, but this was a good reminder that when I screw up, I'm only mad at myself. When someone else screws up, it's much more aggravating.

We finally got to the gardens at 3:30. We needed to be on a bus back to the hostel at 5 for me to catch my kung fu show, so we did a whirlwind run up the Hill of Longevity. The Gardens are a huge complex of wilderness and lakes with pagodas and palaces scattered throughout the grounds, hidden from each other. Each spot seems isolated from the world, though there were also wonderful views of modern Beijing in the distance.

Fergus and I wandered as much as we could and then started back. We'd taken photos, run into two more people from the train - I'd also run into some at the Wall, my hostel, and the Forbidden City. Really, it's like each train and plane disperses a horde of insectoid tourists who all follow the scent markers that previous tourists left along the trail. We all go to the same places, generally in the same order.

Anyway, we started back toward the bus. Fergus still stopped to take pictures, though we were in a hurry. This prompted my photo composition of Fergus taking a photo of a pagoda as two points of a triangle, with a giant rock making up the third point. A stinging commentary on his stubborness. :) We eventually got back to the hostel, an hour late for my kung fu show. Fergus had been a decided hindrance the entire way. I was supposed to be there at 6, instead arriving at 5 to 7. When I ran into the hostel, and pantingly asked if I was too late, the girl at the desk laughed and said yes, it was too late. I asked what time the show started. She replied that it started at 7:30. I asked how long it took to get there. She said 45 minutes. I said, great, I don't mind being late. That was that.

I actually arrived 5 minutes before the show started and was so glad to have gone! The kung fu show was really almost operatic. It was the story of "The Pure One", his boyhood, young manhood, descent into temptation, repentance and ascension to the position of abbott of the temple. It was amazing!!! These guys are all much better acrobats than the acrobats. I absolutely loved it. If you're in Beijing, it's at the Red Theater and is truly amazing. Skip the acrobatic show and go straight for the kung fu.

The next day, I was even lazier and spent the whole morning lounging before going to the spa for my $12 80 minute massage and $5 best pedicure of my life. It was so great. I want to have $12 massages at home. Why can't we? Let's issue work permits for more masseuses rather than for computer scientists.

At 4, I needed to leave to get to the airport. I had waited too long to book my train ticket to Xi'an, and all that was left was standing tickets. That was not going to happen. 1st class is the soft sleeper; 2nd is the hard sleeper, still good; then comes the never category of hard seat (just a chair crammed in with the locals) and standing (what it sounds like - if you're lucky, you can try to sleep on the floor). I decided to fly.

The airport is fabulous. Everything is in English and Chinese, and most personnel speak English. I saw lots of monks, including one with a head tattoo talking on a cell phone. I also met a business man from Houston who'd been to 3 cities already that day and was on his way to inspect a 4th steel mill. He told me about the pleasure of eating cockroach and live eel soup. He said that between banquets, he always stopped at McDonalds or KFC.

Beijing airport shuttles passengers out to the tarmac. I loitered, watching the planes, and was one of the last ones to board. I got back to row 24, only to find my precious window seat occupied by a middle-aged Australian woman. I double checked my ticket and said, "Hi, I think that's my seat." Pause, no response. Triple check the ticket. "Yes, 24A, that's my seat." Pause, husband in the center seat glares, woman scowls, "Yeah, but I can still sit here. Right????" This said very pugnaciously as if by sheer force of personality she could quash me into the aisle seat. "Yes, except, that's my seat and I like to sit by the window." Victory. It was funny, she and her husband both acted as if I was entirely rude and unreasonable to want to sit in my own assigned seat that I'd been smart enough to request in advance. Loons.

That victory under my belt, I watched the surprisingly dim lights of Beijing fade into the distance and made my way to Xi'an.

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