Travel

Pin It

Passing Through the Meridian

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Forbidden City, Travel

Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing

The Meridian Gate is the true entry point to the Forbidden City‘s Outer Court, where ceremonial events occurred. It was from the sky-high balconies that the Emperor would review his armies and announce the new lunar calendar on the Winter Solstice. Basically, it’s the pulpit from which he ruled the world as they knew it.

Today, it symbolizes the barrier between chaos and castles.

First stop: The ticket windows to the right of the five entry arches. The line moves quickly, provided you can fight your way through the entrepreneurial “guides” (see previous post). Apparently, the ticket window is the land of last chances; they know if they don’t snag a naïve tourist here, there are no more shots. They latch on, and don’t let go, no matter how many times you insist “No, no, no.” It got so bad that I finally began pretending I didn’t speak English. Of course, that didn’t stop one particularly rabid fellow from whipping out “I’ll be your guide” in French, just in case.

Second stop: The audio guide window, across the courtyard, to the left of the arches. Since both the entry and audio tickets are purchased at the ticket window, you trot over here next, stand in line at the window on the right, then exchange your audio ticket for a flat digital unit that hangs around your neck (in the language of your choice). Next, you move three feet to your left, to the next line, where you get the headphones and a 3-second explanation of its use.

Third step: Head to the arch immediately to the right of the audio booth. Get in the security line. Place your bags and cameras on the x-ray machine band (think: security at the airport), give them your ticket, then pass to the other end of the band where you pick up your items. Pretty simple. Pretty understandable.

Fourth step: Turn around, face into the Outer Courtyard and gasp with the realization that you’re actually standing here. In the Forbidden City. In Beijing.

Holy cow.

{ 0 comments }

Pin It

Gates and Palaces

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Forbidden City, Travel

Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing

Before taking another step, you need to wrap your head around the hierarchy of gates, palaces, courtyards, and creatures here. The Forbidden City is, indeed, a city within a city, surrounded by sky-high fortress walls. Within that area are sub-sets of gates and palaces. As you move from the southern, more public end of the property toward the northern end that’s anchored by the Imperial Garden, you pass through a number of “gates,” or dividing line fortress walls that protect each new layer of intimacy.

The first courtyard you enter, between the Tiananmen Gate and the Meridian Gate isn’t actually a part of the Forbidden City at all, but merely an entrance to the Imperial Grounds, which explains the endless hawkers, kitch stands, ice cream carts, and carnival atmosphere that swirls around you in hyperactive speed. It’s nearly impossible to walk twenty paces without yet another entrepreneurial “guide” offering his services for a price.

Needless to say, not the experience I expected. Looks like once I pay for my entry ticket into the City, then pass through the Meridian Gate, the touristy sales stuff will vaporize.

Of course, not until after the entrepreneurs have had one last shot at all but tackling you to the ground as you pass through the ticket line.

Oh yeah. One other thing to wrap your head around. As recently as 1908, when the last Emperor ascended to the thrown, two months shy of his third birthday (yup…something else to wrap your head around), there were no “real men” allowed to live within the Forbidden City walls. Pretty much had to be one of the eunichs to get that p.o. address.

Yeeeeouch.

{ 0 comments }

Pin It

The Young and The Old

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Forbidden City, Travel

Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing

Entering the Tiananmen Gate (translated: Gate of Heavenly Peace) that leads to the Forbidden City, you’re met with two familiar sights—the 2-ton portrait of Chairman Mao gazing over Tiananmen Square from on high, and the boy soldiers who stand rigid guard around him day and night. The painting, which is actually a more flattering portrait than the original dour image that hung there first, has been in place for over fifty years (sans its annual cleaning on the eve of National Day, when a copy temporarily hangs in its place).

The baby-faced soldiers surrounding the gate look barely old enough to have facial hair, and stand as erect and still as stone. Not even as much as a blink.

The juxtaposition between youth and age with Tiananmen laid out just behind you is enough to make your head swim. Pretty potent stuff.

{ 0 comments }

Pin It

The Tunnels

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Forbidden City, Tiananmen, Travel

Monday, May 5, 2008
Beijing

There’s a massive boulevard separating Tiananmen Square from the Forbidden City called Dong Chang’an Jie (at least that’s what it’s called in this section; street names tend to change every 100 yards, it seems). By massive, I mean 12+ lanes wide—with very little allowed traffic. There’s logic of some sort there; just don’t know what it is.

Anyway, taxis aren’t the only ones barred from this stretch—so are pedestrians. That, I understand. Halfway through your hike across the zip-code-wide roadway, you’d be stranded between green lights with no median for safe harbor. 43rd Avenue at Times Square looks like a quick hop compared to this.

To move crowds from point A to point B, a system of angular tunnels criss-crosses below the pavement, connecting Tiananmen to the South Gate. The trek is made in nearly complete darkness with florescent lighting is so dim that seeing more than fifteen feet ahead verges on the impossible, even after your eyes adjust. Pretty hard not to feel a little vulnerable during the inevitable 2-block haul back to the surface.

At one turn, I nearly bump headlong into three uniformed guards stationed at the corner. Even close up, my first impression is that these waxy figures are statues symbolizing the nearby police academy.

Imagine my reaction when one blinked.

Decided not to take a photo. Something tells me it’s not on the “approved list” down here. Time to find the sunlight and move along.

{ 0 comments }

Pin It

Turn Left

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Travel

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 }

Pin It

Tiananmen Square

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Travel

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 }

Pin It

Cabbie Tales, Chapter Two

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Taxi, Travel

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 }

Pin It

Flying Solo

by Cinda Baxter on May 5, 2008

in Beijing, Travel

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 }

← Previous Entries

Next Entries →