July 9

Leaving at 8:30 AM, we drove through the city to the Summer Palace.  The day was overcast (smoggy?) and warm.  On arrival at the Summer Palace, first views were of the manmade Kunming Lake and the Heralding Spring Pavilion, a small open aired classically Chinese pavilion overlooking the lake.  Soft pink lotus flowers with their large gently scalloped green leaves floated in the lake while weeping willows framed the vistas across the lake of the many temples on Longevity Hill.  The park was thronged with Chinese people and families in relaxed vacation mode.  Joining the crowds, we watched a couple of men with nib shaped sponge-tipped sticks writing watery Chinese characters on the slate walkways.  The crowds gathered to watch, also.

 

Walking around the end of the lake we came into the courtyard and residence that Empress CiXi frequented during her reign.  Entry to the buildings was not permitted but the courtyard was home to pine trees and graceful bronze statues of cranes as well as a huge limestone rock.  Annie said the rock was a bone of contention between the Empress and the supposed but powerless Emperor, it having been his idea to tear down the entryway in order to deposit the rock--bad luck, apparently.  There was also a display about the installation of the first telephone line in China which CiXi had installed to run from the Summer Palace to the Forbidden City.  The entire Summer Palace is a monument to the excesses and corruption of CiXi’s reign that ended in 1908 although nowadays it is enjoyed by all, of course.

 

 T-shirt in store in Summer Palace

 

We next entered The Long Corridor, a 2400 foot long covered walkway adorned with “more than 8,000 colorful paintings depicting birds, flowers, landscapes and stories from Chinese literary classics.”  Of all the typical corridors in Chinese classical gardens, this is the longest.  This was CiXi’s idea of a place for a stroll when desired!  As we strolled the corridor, we had glimpses of the lake dotted with people-powered paddle boats and the well known dragon boats for tourist scenic rides across the lake back to the entrance of the garden.

 

Near where we were to board a dragon boat was a massive stationary gray marble boat where CiXi supposedly liked to sit to enjoy the lake.  It was complete with mirrors which allowed her to see her reflection as if she were floating on the water.  We climbed on board the brightly painted dragon boat and enjoyed the short, peaceful ride back across the lake.  Once again, a couple of children asked to have pictures taken with Mark in his hat.

 

 

Mr. Gin magically appeared with the van and we drove through town to the site of the 2008 Olympic Games.  Opening umbrellas against the sun, we walked by the impressively girded “Bird’s Nest” stadium, saw the watery blue Cube, venue for all the swimming events, and admired the vast long plaza connecting the buildings.  Then it was time for lunch!

 

We drove to a Peking Noodle restaurant--sort of Spaghetti Factory meets KFC.  On entry, white-shirted men loudly announced our party of three and we were beckoned to an empty table.  Obviously, noodles are the expected dish.  Annie ordered the classic noodle bowl which arrived with an accompanying dish of salty soy bean paste which you thoroughly mix into the noodles with your chopsticks.  In various places in the restaurant, statues of the founder smiled at us.  [An aside here about chopsticks. Mark seems to have mastered their use quite well and later received high praise from Wang Yong Shin, Charlotte’s Dad.  I, on the other hand received indulgent amusement and a few suggestions.  Sigh…..]  Dessert was watermelon accompanied by a cherry tomato…hmmm…..

 

 Mark with Peking Noodle founder

 

The last scheduled stop of the day was the Temple of Heaven.  This complex, built in 1420, was the designated place for the Ming and Qing dynasties’ emperors to purify themselves in order to make sacrifices and pray to Heaven for good harvests and rains.  The complex was not for the emperors’ personal use so there are bright blue and green colors in abundance but no yellow/gold color is used in the adornments.  Here, the emperors were to humble themselves before Heaven.  The large Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests is considered a perfect building in that no nails were used.  Instead each piece fits together like an enormous 3-D wood puzzle.

 

 

Once again, the large treed grounds were populated by Chinese enjoying the quiet and green spaces.  A couple of women were banner dancing, others were dancing to ballroom music, still others were picnicking or playing chess.

 

On exiting, Annie said we still had some time left in the day and asked if we might like to go to a tea ceremony.  We delightedly agreed.  Although the ceremony is really prelude to buying tea and accessories, we enjoyed the gently lisping English presentation by a soft spoken young woman.  And the tea was delicious.  We had oolong with ginseng, black tea with lychee, green tea with roses, jasmine tea, and fruit “tea” made from dried fruits and rose hips (if I remember correctly).  We succumbed to the allure of the tea and even bought Mark a new dragon tea cup.

 

We asked Annie if they might drop us at Jingshan Park which overlooks the Forbidden City.  Instead they dropped us back at the hotel to freshen up and drop off our packages  and waited for us to take us to the park.  At the park Annie even grabbed my arm to help cross the street.  We said goodbye to Mr. Gin and promised to see Annie early in the morning.  We felt like children being reluctantly allowed to venture forth on our own.

 

The late afternoon sky was gray and heavy with moisture.  We climbed to the pavilion on the hill and were treated to a misty vista of the entire walled Forbidden City complex below us.  As we descended the hill, we felt a few spattering raindrops.

 

Having been such dinner duds the two previous evenings, we were determined to experience a Peking Duck dinner at a nice restaurant.  In a light sprinkle, we walked the several long blocks to Qian Hai Lake to seek out the restaurant of Annie’s recommendation.  Still feeling a little full from lunch, we stopped into one of the lakeside tented eateries for a relaxed glass of wine first.  After some discussion among the servers, we were presented with the only bottle of white wine from which we could purchase glasses only.  It was a mild Australian dry white--we readily agreed.  Our table was in the center of the tent, nearby little trees of shocking pink and purple lights twinkled brightly in the dusk, and we toasted each other. 

 

Within minutes, the heavens opened and we were in the middle of a torrential downpour.  Suddenly, our quiet table was the only dry table in the tent and we were instantly surrounded by an excitedly talking, body pressing crowd.  The rain poured off the canvas in cascades and the floor started to puddle.  More people came rushing into the tent to escape the rain.  Mark and I laughed and smugly drank our wine sitting at our dry table in the middle of a crowd.  Eventually we huddled under our one umbrella and dashed down the boardwalk to the Peking Duck restaurant.  It was situated in a large, softly lit, vaulted basement room and was already full of tables of Chinese diners.

 

Peking Duck entails or is that de-tail?…sorry…entails assembling thinly sliced duck (and yummy crisped duck fat), thinly sliced cucumber sticks and scallions, and a thick bean curd sauce onto paper thin crepes, then wrapping, and eating.  We ordered only half a duck to share and were stuffed.  Completely unexpectedly, we had a ringside table to a stage.  We were entertained by short acts of Chinese instrument musicians, a dancer, a magician, puppeteers, a gymnast and a dancing teapot artist (he whirled the teapot with its four foot-long spout in the air and around his neck, stopping periodically to pour tea into cups and glasses without spilling a drop).

 

All we needed to complete a delightfully memorable evening was a quick taxi ride home.  It was still raining hard when we left the restaurant but we walked to the end of the row of  shops along the lake to catch a taxi--as it turned out, us and the rest of the world.  We flagged taxi after taxi but none would stop.  Some of the Chinese people around us got picked up but no one would stop for us.  (I generally go into crabby mode during such moments while Mark goes into ultra calm mode--not a good match but at least we aren’t screaming at each other.)  We continued trying for about fifteen minutes and realized that we had to start walking.  At least we knew which way to go!!  Later, when we told Annie what had happened, she said sometimes taxi drivers don’t want to mess with foreigners because they are afraid that they will not be able to understand them.

 

The streets were freely flowing with rivers of water and our shoes were soaked.  After about twenty minutes of walking away from the congested area, we were on a quiet but main road and I noticed a taxi dropping a passenger off on the other side of the street.  I flagged frantically and, bless him, the taxi driver did a U-turn and came to pick us up.  He looked worried when we climbed in but Mark produced a card with our hotel’s name on one side and a tiny map on the other.  The driver consulted his own map as well and set out.  After a bit, we recognized our neighborhood and were able to indicate our hotel.  We were incredibly thankful to be “home” and forced a tip on him even though he refused it at first.

 

We probably would have had to walk another 20-30 minutes if we had not been picked up.  In our room, we got out of our wet clothes and shoes (Mark begged old newspapers from the front desk to stuff our shoes) and then…started packing!  We were to be picked up by Annie at 7:30 AM for our flight to Dalian.