Success only runs one direction....
Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing
So, I’m standing in the middle of the largest empty parking lot in the world (ie, Tiananmen), and turn left. Aha. There it is—the illusive South Gate I’ve been looking for—complete with straight-as-an-arrow rows of marching baby faced guards on their morning stroll.
More about the baby faces later.
{ 0 comments }
Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing
Tiananmen Square is important for me to see, given the impression the student uprisings there made on me in the 80’s. On t.v., it‘s a big, piazza-like square where everyone congregates. In real life, it’s a massive plaza—4.8 million square feet—with almost nothing but pavement. Populated by red capped children, marching “child soldiers,” the occasional tourist, and a myriad of scammers offering to be your personal guide (a well known trap for foreigners) it’s a whole lot of open without a whole lot of structure. Very eerie. Very big.
Very Tiananmen.
{ 0 comments }
Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing
I know from the massive amount of reading I’ve done (and more than a couple of trips to New York) that there are good cabbies and there are bad cabbies, the latter of which enjoy taking tourists to their destinations via “the scenic route.” Before getting in my taxi, I‘d studied my map, decided to head to the Forbidden City South Gate where it borders Tiananmen Square, and go from there. That meant a little south and a lot east. Simple.
Until the taxi driver took off going a little east and a lot north.
A lot north. As in “Holy buckets, what am I going to do now???” north.
After ten minutes of this little foray into no man’s land, I had a choice to make: (a) ride endlessly and pay an exorbitant amount, depleting my available cash, or (b) get out and pay the current toll. Bravely (confident I could snag one of the multitudes of taxis I saw whizzing around), I went with option two. We pulled over. I paid. I got out. He spun off.
A couple of blocks later, my theory that a replacement ride would be easily accessible had not only crumbled, but had been sliced, diced, and chopped as thoroughly as yesterday’s noodle vegetables. Showing a parade of drivers my little book with destinations translated into Mandarin, I kept getting emphatic refusals to take me to the South Gate at Tiananman Square.
By Emphatic Taxi Driver Number Five, I was deep into the worry pool, and in a part of Beijing beyond the edge of my map.
Now, mind you, I’m not one to rattle easily in such a scenario. This was my adventure, after all—getting lost is part of the deal. Stranded, however, hadn’t entered my mind until now.
Seeing my “deer caught in the headlights” reaction to mounting evidence I was out of my depth, a nice woman walks up, points at the taxi she just stepped out of, leans in to speak to the driver, then stands up and smiles at me. She’s dressed nicely. She’s smiling. She’s either my new best friend, or the deliverer of all things evil.
We’re going with the former of the two.
I slide in. Whip out my little book. The driver looks at it…shakes his head no…and tears begin to well in my eyes. Figuring out I have no clue WHY “no” is the answer, he smiles gently, motions “Okay,” and off we go.
I’m still hoping the nice woman was really a nice woman, since now we’re in motion on the streets of Beijing.
Every few blocks, he looks back at me, smiles, and gestures that all is fine. He’s also explaining something to me that is, no doubt, supposed to be comforting, but unless God reaches down and fills my head with a Mandarin dictionary, it ain’t gonna help.
About ten minutes slide by, but we’re going the right direction. This is good. Right…?
Right.
While the little Mandarin book said “Forbidden City, South Gate,” what it fails to recognize is that you can’t drive to the South Gate. It’s blocked off from taxi stops by row after row of metal pylons and barricades. The numerous drivers’ no-no-no-no-no-no responses were to the gate—not to taking me there. They just didn’t converse beyond that point.
We get to the west edge of Tiananmen Square—a couple of blocks from the South Gate—where he pulls over, smiles gently, and knows without a word that I finally understand. This lovely, patient soul delivered me safe and sound to my destination, and did so while knowing his passenger was teetering on the edge of her nerves.
Yes, I tipped him 20%, in spite of the “no tipping” tradition in China. This guy earned it, heart—which there was a lot of—and soul. If only they were that sweet in New York.
(Photo credit: farm2.static.flikr.com)
{ 0 comments }
Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing
This is it—the day I leave the nest of the Westin and fly off into the reaches of Beijing with no companion. Started with a trip to the front desk to cash a couple of travelers’ checks, then into a cab. The doorman assured me the taxi driver knew where I wanted to go, so off we went, with his business card in my hand (the taxi’s license plate number written on it, which appears to be the norm). Here goes……
{ 0 comments }
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing
During my post-bath ritual high, the left leg of my cotton pajama bottoms brushed lightly against my ankle…and honest to God, it felt like the skin had been peeled away. One look was enough to convince me I’ve officially landed in the aforementioned deep end of the pool.
My left ankle is at least double (working toward triple) its normal size, and looks like someone painted the outside of it with a big, fat, red paint-coated brush.
My right ankle isn’t lookin’ much better, but at least it’s the color of human epidermis. And only one and a half its normal size.
Guess that’s something to feel good about. Right…?
{ 1 comment }
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing
After booking the Westin, the typical confirmation email arrived–with a twist. There, on the right hand side, was a little link labeled “Upgrade your experience from Starpoints.” Given the mass of points I’ve accumulated over the years (and the fact my room was paid entirely with them), this was too great a temptation to pass up.
Which is how I ended up in a Renewal Room. Actually, suite.
Each night, a Bathologist comes to draw a bath of my choice, chosen from a menu of rituals from around the world. There are candles. Chocolates. A jade eye mask (verrrry comfy and naturally cool). A clay facial mask. Rich moisturizing treatment. And rose petals in the water. Seriously. Rose petals.
Open the window shades (no one has a clear sight line into the rooms) to a wildly bright blue night sky, watch the lights of a distant building twinkle, turn off the bathroom lights, and bask in the reflection of candles flickering in the glass. Reality ceases to exist.
Tonight’s ritual: Orient
Ylang ylang (one of my all time favorite fragrances), mimosa, jasmine, and vanilla.
{ 0 comments }
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing
Anyone recognize these bushes? They turn almost a pink color this time of year, which is gorgeous, and would look really great in front of my house (you know…where the bushes used to look nice but the neighborhood deer turned into a buffet line this winter).
Might have to call Bachman’s when I get home.
{ 0 comments }
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing
Back on the subway again, headed to the Westin, this time in one of the new cars from one of the newer stations, which mirrored nearly all of those we passed through along the way. Very modern, very easy to navigate, and very much inclusive of English text.
By the time the Games begin, Beijing’s subway system will be a pretty easy option to rely on, although I rather suspect the stern woman in the Financial District ticket booth will still be there, scowling.
(Photo credit: tour-beijing.com)
{ 0 comments }
