The Middle Kingdom

If you arrived here directly but now wish to begin with the first part of this narrative, just head back to South China. You can easily return here from there.

My first stop in North China was Xi'an, China's ancient capital. The weather presented quite a change from the sultry climate of the lands south of the Yangtze River. Xi'an was remarkably cool, even in August, and a bit rainy. The city seemed fairly clean, and while the surrounding land was green enough, one still got the sense that the vast deserts of China's far north and west were not too far away. In Xi'an one can see what I believe is the last of China's standing city walls, and there are two lovely Buddhist pagoda's, the Greater Wild Goose Pagoda and the Lesser Wild Goose Pagoda. Xi'an is also the site of the tomb of China's first emperor, Qin Shi Huang, and it was he who created the army of life-size terracotta warriors to guard his final resting place.

Entering Xi'an from the south, one is also struck by the sense that one has somehow entered a different nation. While in Guangdong, Hunan, and Sichuan provinces, I had the feeling that I was in a northern extension of Southeast Asia. Indeed, the people of South China seem to physically resemble their neighbors to the south and east. However, in Xi'an, the people seemed unlike the southerners. Instead, they resembled to some extent the people of Mongolia and other areas of Central and North Asia.

In the area of cuisine, if Xi'an is famous for anything, it's jiaozi, or Chinese steamed dumplings. In Xi'an they are available in all varieties (I refer to the fillings), but I only was able to find steamed dumplings. In fact, throughout my stay in China, I never found a restaurant or stand or anything establishment that served guotie (fried dumplings). My overall experience of food in China was that many of the items Americans enjoy in Chinese restaurants in this country are not available at all in China, or are hard to find, or are unrecognizable when one does find them.

Beijing is a city too full of wonders to be readily described. I could spend hours writing about the complex of pavilions and halls that makes up the Forbidden City, or the manifold masterpieces that fill each building there. Or I could go on about the Temple of Heaven, its echo wall, or just about any number of remarkable things that the Chinese capital has to offer. However, the fact is that there is no way for me to do justice to the city, so I think I will just recount a few, somewhat whimsical anecdotes concerning my time there, and perhaps I should describe some of the less famous sites.

One of my favorite places is the Gu Guan Hsiang Tai, or Ancient Observatory, located at Jianguo Men near the Friendship Store. The observatory is a squat, stone tower topped with peculiar instruments designed, I believe, by the Jesuits, and decorated by the Chinese. The tower was not often visited when I lived in Beijing, and one could spend a considerable amount of time there in solitude.

Another location worth the time it takes to get there is the site of the Bell Tower and the Drum Tower (Zhong Lou and Gu Lou). My understanding is that, in imperial times, hours during the day were marked with the ringing of the bells, while nighttime hours were marked with the beating of the drums. (I guess living near the towers was the the traditional Chinese equivalent to living near an airport.) At any rate, the Bell Tower was closed in my day, but the Drum Tower was accessable. Within the tower's uppermost chamber were the ancient drums, and the balconies afforded fine views of Beijing. To the south, one can see the Forbidden City and surrounding sites, and the towers stand among one of the last of Beijing's traditional housing districts.

Communist China is know far and wide for the surly attitudes of workers in the state-owned service sector, and this reputation is well earned at the Kang Le (Health and Happiness) Restaurant, near Anding Men. I sought this place out as my trusty Lonely Planet guidebook mentioned that it was a well-known restaurant serving Yunnanese cuisine. A friend and I arrived at about 4:30 in the evening, just as the restaurant was due to open (according to its sign outside). We entered, were shown to a table, and quietly waited two full hours as the staff enjoyed its dinner, chatted, and cleaned the restaurant. At 6:30, a waitress took our order, but when our food finally did arrive, it was worth the wait after all. Yunnanese food (and, sorry, I don't know which Yunnanese they meant) is fragrant with fresh herbs and delightful, almost delicate flavors. The dish of choice is chicken boiled in an herbal broth, and the "Crossing the Bridge Noodles" are quite tasty.

In the late fall and early winter, Beijing seems to become part of Siberia. The suns shines weakly down upon a cold, dusty city, and the nights become bitter indeed, with strong, dust-laden winds blowing in across the North China Plain. I spent many a chilly evening enjoying a meal in the fabulous Green Light Restaurant (as my roomate and I called it), which is a small Korean establishment in the Haidian District. My strongest memory of that place is one of sitting, dressed in a Chinese military overcoat (it wasn't well-heated, by any means), bathed in the light of green, neon lamps (these were in the windows and served as both exterior advertisement and interior illumination), and devouring a plate of vegetarian jiaozi. The building was cold, but the atmosphere was warm and friendly, and a delightful young Korean-Chinese woman always greeted us with a smile and her efforts to remember as many English words as she could manage. Her pronunciation was good, if slightly overly-careful, and her command of restaurant vocabulary was admirable indeed.

Not far from Beijing is an area of old tombs from the Ming Dynasty, called Ming Shisan Ling, which means "The Thirteen Ming Tombs" -- kind of a no-brainer, I suppose. The Tombs themselves are large Chinese buildings that house imperial remains, unless of course the Red Guards got to them back in the Cultural Revolution. I don't know what the story is, but suffice to say the tombs themselves are still standing. There is a road that leads to the tombs that is lined with statues, which are an attraction in and of themselves.

The last place I'll mention is Mutianyu, which is a site where the Great Wall of China passes near Beijing. Unlike the much-visited Badaling (where everyone goes), Mutianyu, in my day at least, was quiet. Part of the wall is restored there, but for the most part, it is in ruins. If one walks any distance from the central tourist area, one reaches this stretch of crumbling stone, where ravens circle lazily in the bright sunshine, croaking in melancholy voices as they look down upon the brown hillsides of autumn. The only other sounds to be heard are those of the occasional woodcutter's axe and the wind soughing through the windows of the ruined guard towers. I don't know whether Mutianyu has retained its peaceful atmosphere during the years since I last visited it, but I have heard from a good friend that Sima Tai, another section of the Great Wall that was not yet accessible during my sojourn in China, provides a similar experience. It is also advertised as "the most dangerous place on the Great Wall," whatever that means. Perhaps the "barbarians" still launch an occaisional sortie against that particular part of the fortifications....

Return to Homepage

Copyright © 1996 Scott Carr

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page