Yesterday morning I got up very early and went for a walk. I accidentally forgot my map, but simply looked very carefully at every turning and made my way back all right. Of course, I didn't know where I was going. So early on a Sunday morning (it was around 7), most things were closed also. But not the middle school I passed. Do they go to school seven days a week? On the way out, I saw a confused jumble of cars and kids riding double on bicycles, everyone arriving in the usual school-morning chaos which probably exists everywhere that schools do. On the way back I saw the students standing together in groups in side the high-gated school-yard, while parents stood outside watching them with with craned necks, all extended in the same direction, vacant and rapt, somehow reminding me of turtles (I suppose in Chinese that's an insult, but I personally love turtles so nothing bad intended). A better metaphor, I suppose, is concerned sunflowers, their faces turned longingly toward the sun. There were so many of them, it seemed like perhaps it is a custom to watch your child standing around with his or her peers--as if by a few minutes of observation you can discern something about that long space of time each day when your beloved and protected child passes beyond your reach and has adventures you know nothing of. But through some kind of parental divination, can you read the substance of these adventures from the few moments before the kids are summoned to their classrooms?
Also on my walk, I passed another schoolyard, this one a sort of playground, I think for much younger kids? There seemed to be playground equipment, though none of it matched any of the stuff I grew up with. Still, it had that look. And there was a ping-pong table with a line of bricks instead of a net. Two grown-ups, a man and a woman, were playing a game of ping-pong which if it had been a conversation would have been a relaxed and gentle banter. Then I walked past.
I was a little intimidated at first by the cars, but I think reports of the danger to pedestrians are over-rated. True, even when you are crossing with the light in your favor, at least one lane of traffic still has the right to zoom through your path most of the time, and bicycles seem to ignore traffic lights completely. But no one actively seek to run you down. As long as you are very alert and keep out of their way, it is possible to make it to the other side without becoming road pizza. Still, especially when there was no light, I was careful to follow some other more confident person across the street. Pedestrian crossings (the same flat white ladder that we have) mean nothing here. I am quickly getting used to it all, though.
Without really finding much of interest, I returned to the hostel and had a shower and some breakfast, for which the hostel charged 15 RMB (slightly less than $2). Breakfast consisted of some nice seed-bread, with butter, jam, and cheese, also a little pile of scarlet-veined peach widgets balanced on a tomato slice, a little pile of small banana wheels piled on thinly sliced cucumber, and a some chunks of nice ripe watermelon ("fruit and vegetable salad"). This was the "vegetarian" breakfast. For an extra 50 cents or so you could have bacon and eggs with it, but I didn't feel like it. Oh, also orange juice and the weakest, hottest coffee I have ever had. I think the boiling water here IS hotter than elsewhere.
I also spent some time online, with my own computer this time, though the batteries are rapidly coming to an end. Why oh why did I not spring for the extra battery while I was at it? I still did not manage to find an adapter today, though this was I think the neighborhood I was in. A lot of dubious mom and pop shops, decidedly low-tech, a little like the shops on Mokpo in Korea. Some more upscale ones for clothing. Some that seemed to sell nothing, but possibly it was internet access? Anyway, I am for sure going to find something today. Am kicking myself for not just bringing the plug adapter Colin had as part of his set. It would work perfectly well.
Anyway, to get back to my day: after I had rested a bit, I went on a major excursion to Beihai Park. This is an enormous park dating back to the Yuan dynasty, possible to Kublai Khan. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan... Perhaps this was his Xanadu. The park surrounds a huge man-made lake, shaped like the top part of a slipper with the big toe pointing north (right foot). The excavation debris was heaped up make a towering island near the southwest corner (where the instep would begin if it were a foot). The lake is edged with beautiful weeping willow trees, some very young, some very old, and a carved stone railing. It being Sunday, there were people everywhere, but in a pleasant way. Not horrific crowds, but spread out little groups of people walking or sitting or eating or doing various activities. Many children, obviously deeply beloved. Out on the lake, paddle boats and tourist ferry boats with painted eves like the eves of temples or palaces.
I didn't go out on the lake, but instead opted to walk all the way around it, which I did, though it took me several hours. A BIG place. Besides, there were a lot of side distractions: temples, halls of various kinds, gardens. Many I didn't even explore, but I did look into an art exhibition hall, where there were contributions on the theme of "Protect our nation's historical places." Calligraphy ranging from the classic to the eccentric, paintings of which some were obviously related to the theme and others relying (I suppose) on some symbolic connection I don't understand, terrifyingly intricate paper-cuts--all of it was, I think, fairly amateur stuff, but in way interesting because of that. Exceedingly heterogeneous. Photography was not allowed in the halls, but I took a lot of pictures of the lotus flowers outside. The light was exactly wrong for photography, I must add, but I took a lot of pictures of everything anyway.
Other highlights in the park included people with huge brushes doing water calligraphy. I was really fascinated by this. I watched a little girl of about 7, obviously prompted to try her hand, produce some characters that a) I didn't know, and b) were more nicely written than I could ever aspire to! Well, maybe she was being prompted to try it out because it's a special forte of hers.
I was also really excited to see little groups of women sitting together with crochet and knit projects. Excited because it means that yarn is to be had here somewhere! I thought of asking them where they got it, but decided against it. Anyway, on the way home I saw a yarn shop which had been closed during my outbound trip. I controlled my longings, as I already have more stuff than is practical, given all the moving around I will have to do!! But I made a note of the location. Things are cheap here. A big bottle of water (partly frozen to keep cool) cost me 3 RMB, or less than 50 cents. Later I found that that was nearly twice what I would have paid in a convenience store for the same water!Anyway, I also wandered into a hall (Happy Snow Hall? Quick Snow Hall?) built by the Qianlong emperor to honor a certain calligrapher--was it Zhao Mengfu? Anyway, it was a really pleasant place, quiet and peaceful with rubbings or carved stones hanging along the breezy open corridors. I also liked watching the people. They had quite thoroughly appropriated this former imperial sanctum of successive courtyards and fine artworks. There was no sense of the intimidated reverence that a tourist sometimes feels in the face of royal artifacts, nor any sense of resentment. The place belonged to them, and they relaxed in it, eating their lunch, taking pictures, sitting on the edges of the walks swinging their feet. It seemed to me an entirely appropriate situation, a bit like the British Museum or the Chicago Zoo. Cool things should be free to the masses, I think. Protected from potential depredations, but free.
A lot of restoration was going on, no doubt in preparation for the Olympics. Some of the bigger halls were closed and (I should have taken a picture) many lawns on the east side of the lake were so thoroughly covered by blue tarps that they looked like blue lawns instead of green, people sitting on benches or walking on paths beside them just as usual. It would be funny if grass were blue. I liked the effect of this one, which is a photograph to show what it's going to look like, surmounted by the real thing. Belows are some tiles to be used for the restoration, bound in straw to keep them from breaking.
Finally, I crossed the curving stone bridge to the tall island, with its towering white dagoba at the top. It was about half under construction as well. I found the construction almost more fascinating than the finished product--young fellows wandering around pots of intensely colored paint, or balanced on dubious looking scaffolding over steep staircases sans steps.
Nonetheless, it was possible to climb to the top on trippingly irregular steps made from eroded stone. I ascended with care, rewarded with many interesting views of the lake and city as I got progressively higher. I didn't go all the way up to the dagoba because I was (I thought) running short on time. Also the word dagoba (unfairly) reminds me of Star Wars. But I got high enough to have a pretty good view!
On the other side of the island were vast lotus fields, now in bloom or perhaps a little past their prime, so that there are many of the big fascinating seed heads. I wonder if I can obtain some from a florist or something? I really like their shape.
By this time, I was very much in need of refreshment, so I left the park and on the way back I dropped into a steamed dumpling (baozi) shop I had remarked earlier. It was a sort of baozi fast-food shop, long benches for people shoveling in their baozi together with a variety of exotic cold dishes. I considered the menu and ordered two portions of vegetarian baozi. I should add for most types, the portions cost 2 RMB (= about 25 cents). Apparently I am a baozi lightweight, as the couple in front of me ordered about 6-8 portions. Baozi are one of my favorite food, but six was definitely plenty. There was a huge bin of terrifying hot pepper mush, lots of seeds (Colin would have loved it), which I self-served into a sauce dish, and poured vinegar over at table. The vegetarian baozi were full of mushrooms, not veggies, and were delicious. What a find!
On my peregrinations, I got mostly ignored but received a few long stares. ("What are you anyway?" they were thinking) At one point, there was a patently Western girl walking ahead of me wearing a very beautifully patterned skirt and a black tank top, carrying an umbrella for a sunshade and a healthy looking salad/wrap lunch in a clear plastic bag. She had long, strawberry blond hair, and was tall and relaxed looking. I watched her with some interest. So did a little boy who was walking toward us, hand in hand with his mother. He was maybe 4 or 5. He had eyes only for this girl. As they came near to crossing, he stood stock still, having turned to face her with a ravishing smile of pure adoration. I was walking behind her and couldn't see her face, so I don't know if that smile had the same heart-melting effect on her as it did on me, but she did just keep on walking. I felt momentarily seized by a discreditable envy, and for a moment wished that still had pretty long hair, and was tall, and wearing lovely clothes--or whatever it was that had caught that little kid's eye and made him look like that. O ye olde biologickal clock. I suppose what I need is a tiny elephant of my own. But not yet.
When I got back to the hostel, I was pretty tired and spent most of the afternoon resting or reading Hyperion, which is a little bit too much of a horror novel to be reading when I'm all alone and unsettled, but is admittedly very fascinating. Well, I also read the first two chapters of Moby Dick, which Colin and I have decided to read together, four chapters a week. All this enforced inactivity was due to the fact that I was waiting for JZ and FL to show up. They said they had a lunch meeting, and would come by after, but in the event they didn’t arrive until after 4. This left me an unfortunate amount of time for dozing and worrying in equal measures. I was feeling helpless and out of the loop, so far from the campus, and was depending on people I had only met a day before and who had no particular reason to help me.
They did come, though, to my great relief. They were visibly tired and suggested I move to a place near the campus (also nearer to where they both live). This seemed like a good idea to me, especially since they were helping me find one. I would have to lose one night's fee at the hostel of course, since it was long-past checkout time, but I got the third night back. It's all small change anyway, and smaller still compared to peace of mind. So I quickly packed up and went with them. The drive out to the distant reaches of the city, where Beida is located, was thoroughly terrifying. In a place where the consequences of having an accident are legally so grim, it's amazing that people drive so recklessly, FL included. But perhaps it is just the appearance of recklessness that great confidence sometimes produces.
We got to campus, and I had a driving tour. FL, whose family is huge in the parking lot business, had a special pass allowing him to drive through the campus. "Usually only people like the University president get to bring their cars in here," he said smugly. A driving tour was actually less useful than a walking tour would have been, it being impossible to get my bearings while moving so fast. But I didn't say anything. Their goodwill counted for much more than my disorientation! More on the campus later, when I have had time to explore properly and take some photos.
Eventually we pulled up in front of a sort of dorm/hotel building called Zhengda guoji zhongxin (Zhengda international center). FL marched in and demanded (in Chinese of course), "What's the cheapest room you have?" "200 RMB," came the quick and polite response. That's $25, only slightly more than the hostel actually, a good buy. I booked it for five nights, paid in cash with my dwindling stock of red 100 RMB notes. We went up to inspect the room. Construction off to one side of the building, unsightly, but not so bad given that most everything is done by hand labor rather than loud machines! The room looks exactly like a hotel room with two single beds, two desks, a private bathroom (which is a huge bonus), air conditioning. 
I have slowly discovered the little quirks that make it a deeply discounted room, like the slightly misaligned sink faucet and the fact that there's some kind of slight plumbing leak so water is slowly but constantly seeping over the bathroom floor. Well, there's a drain hole there, and the hotel provided two sets of slippers, so whatever. Totally worth it.FL says that some people actually live in this building year-round. For two people it would be pretty economical (by our standards) and with maid and laundry service… not bad really. But I'm not really considering it, even if I could get a place. Their guest policy seems very strict--opposite sex overnight visitors of the guests seem to have to have witnessed documentation (presumably that they're married). Besides, for $750 /month I can do much much better. I saw a few ads in the $300-400 range, hopefully not scams. Will check them out soon.
Anyway, after checking in, FL drove us to a favorite restaurant of his student days. The food, I will say, was indeed excellent. Unfortunately, he ordered enough for about 10 people, one of those culturally instinctive reflexes to provide a lavish feast. Notable were black eggs (pickled in something and interestingly flavored), tender succulent lamb on sticks and flavored with cumin, grilled steamed bread (I loved it), and Kung Pao chicken which wouldn't even acknowledge its American cousin as a member of the family (totally delicious). That describes less than half the dishes presented, each one enough to feed two, as well as three 1-liter bottles of Tsingtao. I made a valiant effort on mine and succeeded in getting deeply tipsy after drinking only 2/3 of it. It was a feast all right. The waste, when we got up from the table with bulging bellies, was horrific. But I said nothing but a warm thanks.
Then there was another driving tour, this one in darkness, of the picturesque parts of campus, including two beautiful lakes, and some other things that faded into the darkness, a secret hint about a 24-hour gate (whose location I have already forgotten) and in general a lot of talk. It was a good but wearying evening, in part because it was conducted mostly in English to help FL practice, but instead of trying on his own, he would be constantly asking for translations from JZ, who herself couldn't always produce the English word, so then there would be a guessing game. ESL teachers must be saints. But I was as saintly as I could possibly manage myself, from a combination of friendly gratitude and (I admit it) calculated cultivation.
The new hotel room had a much better water situation. Unlike the scary superhot kettle of the hostel, it has two gigantic thermoses of boiled water, resupplied daily by the hotel maids. It is impossible to describe how soothing it was to my incipient hangover, having several generous cups of hot water in an actual teacup (also provided). Fortunately, I am already a fan of the original "white tea" (plain hot water), and have a very comforting association with it. I say fortunately because bottled water is the only alternative. Of course bottled water is cheap, but not convenient.
Anyway, soothed by the white tea, I fell asleep at 10, only to wake up again at 2 AM! Alcohol is so bad for trying to get over jetlag, and I did know it, but had little choice. And of course my nap of yesterday afternoon didn't help either. So I worked on this post for about an hour until my computer battery died, then wrote some by longhand, then read in bed. Around six, I went back to sleep but woke back up to the sound of my alarm at seven. I am so wound up, I didn't even feel like setting it forward and going back to sleep. I just hopped up and started the new day.
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