i'm here with my choir from greenland

is what she said the last time i saw the icelandic queen at radio city music hall with dr. and mrs. tumnus. i don't think her shtick will be the choir this time. seems her posters have some uber-suess-like fiberglass headless, big-footed mascot. she's all about the multi-colored tribal stuff these days.
bjork will play seoul on february 16th, and after about 2 1/2 hours, i managed to: 1) register an account in the only online ticketing site in korea IN KOREAN (thanks to this amazing site about Interpark!); and 2) reserve two tickets, one at a 50% discount for some unknown reason (buy 1 get the 2nd 1/2 off, just like Wal-Mart, or something).

one helluva birthday rave

it was our dear friend badkitty's bday on monday. we took her out for some delicious food and dragged her off to a fish and grill place for coconut and kiwi soju juice and the very traditional korean birthday rave. it's truly spectacular, as you will see. we love our badkitty!

for more pics, check out my flickr site

the nineteen eighties in gwangju

for a friend's birthday this past weekend, there was a soirée that involved an 80's theme. now, please be aware that many of the people we teach with were born in the *late* 1980's. like seriously, when speaking of such bands as WHAM!, i have been asked, quite often, what's that? was that a band or something. people. puhlease! at any rate, jim and i got in some wacky get-ups and headed to the party, him in a tan shirt a la Crocodile Dundee complete with sideways tie and black tuxedo jacket and jeans. Me in a more 80's punk them with one hell of a classic t-shirt found that day and my oh-so-crazy purple velvet platform boots. yes! purple! velvet! platform! we played some silly drinking games at the apartment and then headed out to the noraebang (korean karaoke room) to belt out some tunes. there must have been about 10 of us. we were rather ridiculous. but i woulda made my people proud. such hits as "livin' on a prayer," "what's love got to do with it," and "buttercup." were sung loud and proud. and just as we finished, i pulled off what is sure to be one of the greatest feats a white girl from arizona has ever achieved in aa korean noraebang: i sand an ENTIRE song in Korean. i read the damn song off the teleprompter AND i somehow also managed to stay on key. i have 100% no idea how this is possible. except for the fact that i ROCK! i can read AND sing in KOREAN people. and there's video to prove it. though you'll have to wait for that until later. i haven't gotten my hands on it yet. at any rate, enjoy the silly pics of the evening's debauchery. please note the caption on my shirt: "it's myself camera love." AND the very Korean shades that Jim found...

one of my favorite finds in beijing

now, as you know, in Asia, the translation from Korean, or, say, Chinese, to English usually results in a rather comedic experience with misplaced articles and pronouns and the like. we found some pretty sweet signage in Beijing. this was one of my favorites, found in the garden in the Forbidden City.


it was posted at the bottom of the scraggly hill up which the emperor, empress and les concubines climbed up to be secluded in a hilltop abode. poetically practical.

day three: beijing

Day 3
January 1, 2008

NAMOC, Beihai Park, Houhai at night

We ended up getting a pretty late start on New Years Day after coming home so late and having the experience that we did. I finally found some light in my darkness and resolved to *not* spend one more minute in China feeling sorry for myself or feeling guilty. We made it over to the National Art Museum of China (NAMOC) about an hour before it closed. We saw some pretty incredible art in that space. There was a beautiful exhibit of Chinese wood block prints from the 1930’s-1950’s. They were incredible pieces documenting the experience of life in China in all its political and social turmoil. Scenes of famine, war, the starkness of life as it was. All depicted in simple black and white woodcuts. It was truly a scene of spectacular quietude, so simple and understated in their design but so powerful in their content and emotive impact. We wandered the museum’s first floor, finding pieces of modern art, powerful portraits, comedic cartoonish photo-like images, a gorgeous black and white photo of a lotus leaf that had been distressed and fractilized, Botero-like sculptures and paintings by a Russian artist. I was glad to be back in a space of light and to find some inspiration.

We meandered out of the museum, trying to make it to Beihai Park before the sun went down. Beihai isn’t too far from the Forbidden City. The park is associated with Kublai Khan’s palace, the center of Beijing before the Forbidden City replaced it. It consists of a lake (Beihai means “North Sea”) surrounding park are and an island in the southeast corner of the lake called Jade Islet. Atop the islet is a white Buddhist dagoba that was built in 1651 for the Dalai Lama’s visit. I had read quite a bit about the park and had hoped to get there on our day off from the tour. So, while walking towards the park, we realized we were running out of time. A guy with a bicycle rickshaw offered to take us to the spot for 20 RMB (~$3.00), or so we thought. But he started to take us in the opposite direction. And Jim kept insisting that we go the other way, which we needed to do. Then there was some yelling at the guy and confusion, and I got a little freaked out – here we were in Beijing with nobody but this guy around yelling at us because we were getting out of the rickshaw we had agreed to take. So, I was a little out of it and scared, thinking it would just be better to stay on the damn bike even though that was ridiculous. Finally, Jim convinced me to get out of the rickshaw and we walked in the direction we wanted to go. The guy came around and wanted to pick us up again and take us the direction we wanted to go. So we got on. We rode about 3 minutes down the street and he stopped at the entrance to the park. When we got off, the guy told us he wanted $20, TWENTY US DOLLARS, not 20 RMB. Which is quite literally insane. Completely insane. We were already pissed and I was shaken up and couldn’t believe this guys actually wanted US money from us as we haven’t had any dollars in at least 9 months. It was so bizarre. So we gave him the 20 RMB and walked away. Jim said that as he turned around to look at the guy, he saw a smile spread on his face. Who knows. Seems he may have been satisfied with his swindle after all.

So, Beihai Park, finally. Sunset was gorgeous. Twilight set in on the park and we wandered around the shore of the river taking pictures. The white dagoba stood tall upon the island, illuminated by soft yellow light from different points on the peak. We made our way up a path to get up to it, but soon found that the gates were shut and the paths closed off for the evening. Bummer. So, we made our way slowly around the lake, enjoying from afar the lights of small traditional houses along the shore of the lake. Turning a corner, I saw a mother and her son coming down from a rocky path that led up to some kind of temple just above us. We decided to explore, and as I scrambled up the rocks, I saw that the path actually took us all the way up the backside of the dagoba’s peak. And suddenly, I found myself standing right there in front of it. It was still closed, but we could at least walk around it and get some good night shots from the peak. I found a couple of lookout platforms on one side of the peak and saw below us what looked like some kind of café. Red lanterns glowed in the dark and soft Chinese music floated up to the place where I stood. I waited for Jim to make his way up the hill and we decided to descend down some rather dark rocky steps to see what we could find.

Reaching the bottom of the path, we found a small garden, and on the other side, a long walkway, much like what we had seen at the Temple of Heaven. Lit from the ground all along the walk, the pathway formed an arc around the garden behind it. At one end of the walk, two girls stood in red hooded capes, facing each other, as if welcoming guests through the archway. I turned my head and saw that red lanterns lined the wall to the right, beyond which was the lake. I walked out in to the air, beyond the walkway and noticed that the walk was actually part of a larger building, all of which was painted in traditional Chinese colors and patterns. I walked further down the path, so excited at my discovery, the air chilly on my face, my eyes wide with amazement at this gorgeous scene. I was all alone. No one was on the path. I saw the red hooded girls whispering and heard muffled laughter at the end of the walk. I felt as though I might be in a David Lynch movie. That sense of hyper-reality, the bold red, the colors and light and stillness of ice in water. A few people came around the arc in the path. I walked a little further, and heard heavy steps coming towards me. Two other red capes fluttered past me and swept down the path from where I came. As I rounded the curve, A pair of gold doors stood open. Two of the red capes standing in the doorway, greeting guests.

We had stumbled upon the Fangshan Resturant, a very famous restaurant in Beijing that serves multi-course meals of imperial cuisine based on the food served to the Empress Cixi (who was not a very pleasant empress, to say the least. See the Summer Palace entry later for more on her). I had read about this place, too, but was pretty sure we wouldn’t make it. But, kismet. Here we were. We decided to spend the cash to have this experience. We stepped over through the doorway into a courtyard lit by red lanterns. We were escorted into the main dining room which was gilded and opulent. The tables were set with gold table cloths and yellow Chinese patterned china. We ordered one of the lower-priced set menus as well as some 8 Treasures tea. And we were off. The taste experience was so interesting. On our menu were dishes of lemon duck, bok choy, and, of course, camel hoof. Yes, seriously. Camel hoof. It wasn’t very delicious. Kind of slimy and soft. As Jim kept saying, if you want to try the camel, go with a steak. Don’t eat the foot. But still an experience, nonetheless. The 8 Treasures tea was delicious and fascinating. Every few minutes a woman would come to our table with another one of those uber long-spouted brass teapots and refill our cups in total theatrics. It was a kick. It was a delightful meal and a really lovely way to reset my brain after a difficult night.

After our decadent dining, we headed back to Houhai (yes, again) which was nearby, to do some shopping and find a café to sit in. We managed to find a couple of really great shops and braved the bargaining dance only to be rewarded with a good haul of stuff. Found some beautiful wall hangings, a statue of Ganesh, a Monkey King statue, and other sundries. Found the No Name bar of which I had read so much, and settled in with a nice cup of Irish coffee in a totally pleasant atmosphere by the lake. Houhai is a lake district that is surrounded by hutongs and lined with bars, restaurants and clubs. The neon factor is high there and the pull on the street to get you into the bar is strong. But the No Name bar stands on its own. You’d miss it if you weren’t looking for the low light, easy going atmosphere as the blaring neon swallows it a little. But just at the edge of the lake (actually Qianhai Lake as Houhai is just north of the footbridge), right before the footbridge from Yandai Xiejie street, is a little café covered in wintry trees and decorated with rattan furniture where you can lounge, have a snack and a drink, watch the resident fluffy white cats lounge with you while listening to mellow reggae. At least, that’s what we did. It was a nice surprise to find it as I thought it didn’t exist. And so concluded day 3. A little writing, and a little mellowness inside a busy tour through a busy city.

day two: beijing

Day 2 December 31, 2007

Tiananmen Square, The Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, Peking duck, Chinese opera and Houhai for New Years

What an incredible day. So much history to see in one day. It was the coldest I have experienced in Asia and perhaps ever in my life in Beijing that day. And we were outside for the majority of the day, bouncing from one place to another.

Tiananmen Square (Gate of Heaven) was first. We walked through the square dotted with other tourists, Chinese guards and tsotchke hawkers, trying desperately to stay warm in the biting cold wind. That day was double scarf, double hat day. I was well aware of how incredibly silly looked, but for once, function trumped fashion and my scheme of bizarre layering kept me reasonable warm. As we walked past Mao’s tomb, a man tried to sell Jim Mao’s little book. Not into the bargaining at that point, I walked on with Tina, our guide, as she explained where we were and how hard it is to get in to see Mao’s tomb on the limited days that it is open to the public. As we walked, Jim caught up with us after a sly bargaining session with the hawker. Mao’s Little Red Book had been purchased, in front of his tomb, for less than $5 – the starting price had been $30, I think. Classic.

So, book, in hand, we made our way across the square to the Forbidden City across the street. I just remember the feeling of awe. I can’t believe we’re in this place. I can’t believe we’re actually seeing the Chinese flag towering above Tiananmen. Seeing Mao’s portrait hanging big as life above the crowds streaming into the city. As we crossed the square, I noticed two things. First, that there were little electric cars zooming around the area – garbage collection/maintenance cars, and second, that there happened to be a large group of people wearing the classic souvenir commie red winter hat holding a Mexican flag. Yes, seriously, a large group of Mexicans taking a group shot in Tiananmen Square. It was surprising to say the least. Not something one would expect to see in China.

So, we passed through the underground walkway to get to the entrance to the Forbidden City. Columns and bridges lined the front entrance. Dragons climbed the columns and the pair of lions stood on either side of the entrance – female/mother lion with the small lion cub under her front left paw on the left and male/father lion with the globe under his left paw on the right (for those of you familiar with Chinese iconography, these are classic symbols, but I won’t pretend here that I really have any idea what most of the things I saw meant as I really have no experience with any of it aside from this trip to Beijing).

Entering the gates of the city was surreal. We walked through the cold and stopped just short of the actual entrance to wait for Tina to buy our tickets. As we waited, I entertained myself by doing some funny signature dances and staring in awe at the Russian tourists surrounding us. This was one of the highlights of the trip as far as people watching went. You see, this is a new breed of tourist for me – the wealthy (or seemingly wealthy) Russian tourist. The women are often covered from head to toe in fur and drip with jewels. Their hair has been frosted, dyed, streaked, highlighted and extended. Their makeup is definitely Mac Factor-style. And they and their male counterparts ooze with heavy perfume and cologne. They traveled in large groups. And seriously, the furs were out of control. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not ashamed to admit that I spent quite a bit of time trying to capture the essence of their persona on film, but I don’t think I ever really succeeded.

And so into the city we went, wandering through ancient gates, peering into temples and ceremonial sites. Empress quarters, classrooms, business rooms, etc. Across stone bridges and around sculptures of auspicious animals. As we were about to pass through one of the last sections of the city with the longest dragon wall, I caught sight of the Mexicans again. And being so starved for the language, I couldn’t resist speaking to the when I heard Spanish floating around. So, I stopped one boy as he walked by, asking him where they were from. Well, Mexico. Ok, where, though? Sonora. Ok, where, though? Oh, Guaymas, Hermosillo. We’re university students. Wow. Right. So, Sonora, Mexico is essentially Arizona. Pima County, where I’m from butts right up against Sonora. And kids in my school for as long as I can remember were from Guaymas and Hermosillo. So, suddenly, I find myself in Beijing, inside the Forbidden City, speaking Spanish with a guy from Hermosillo (did I mention that he was adorable, totally cute, so cute, in fact, that Jim thought I was talking to a girl! Ah, el guapos mexicanos.). It was fantastic. Strangely, I’ve found that speaking Spanish here, though I rarely get the chance, is actually quite easy. Last weekend I went to a party for a friend’s birthday and I met a Korean guy who spent the first 10 years of his life in Madrid. So, he’s Spanish-Korean, and speaks perfect Spanish and English. We spoke for quite a while and it felt so good to get into the language again. But I digress…

We made it through the city in about 2 hours and were then whisked away to our first on-tour lunch. Lemme tell you, divine. Seriously some of the best food on this tour. I’m a little obsessed with food and taking pictures of food. So, be prepared to be regaled with tales of culinary delights. This first lunch was this: cabbage steamed and sautéed with chestnuts, stir fried strips of delicious pork, lemon duck, and this amazing soup that had some sort of leafy green in it that seemed to be covered in a thin layer of gelatin. The leaf could have been lotus, maybe, but I’d never seen anything else like it. No one could tell us the English word, but ended up having the soup again, so it’s pretty common, I’m guessing. And of course, jasmine tea. All the restaurants we went to with the tour were pretty big places with tons of tables and lovely atmosphere. They all had enormous Buddha statues and shrines in their foyers. This first restaurant was the best one, though. Big, fat, gold, happy Buddha with dozens of little Buddha babies climbing all over the place.

After lunch, the Temple of Heaven (Tiantan). This is a series of temples set in a large park built by the Ming dynasty. The temple site has been a place of harvest ceremonies for more than a thousand years. There are four main structures in the complex – the Round Altar, the Echo Wall, the Imperial Vault of Heaven and the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. I won’t spend too much time here discussing the significance of all these places. I don’t know enough about them to say more than what my guide book tells me. But the experience there was truly breathtaking and beautiful. We entered the park from the east and found ourselves on a long, open walkway stretching along one side of the large wooded park. All along this walkway were older, retired men and women engaged in everything from gambling to fan dancing to playing hackey sack with a feathered toy. It was incredible. I wandered along the walkway watching so many things going on at the same time. We found some ladies doing a fan dance with bright red fans. I watched little ladies knitting all manner of small animals and wearbles along the walls of the walkway. Old men played traditional instruments as people gathered around them to sing and dance. Other people played all sorts of games, one like an elegant version of smash ball or the Basque game, pelota, where they use those big wicker baskets to throw the ball, and the other, the hackey sack game. Jim bought one of the feathered hackey sack and the three of us played for quite a while towards the end of the walkway. A Chinese man cheered us on on the sidelines. It was awesome. And as we played, we watched another man walk by us, turning circles as he walked down the long hallway towards the entrance to the Temple of Heaven. Truly blissful.

As we walked through the complex, we wandered into small exhibits halls off to the side of the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. Inside we had conversations about religion and cultural traditions. How my country is different from China. Trying to explain to our tour guide, a Buddhist from a culture with such deep, iconographic and ceremonial history, that the US simply does not have any such thing and that it is quite radically different from the history I was witnessing in China. We came upon a picture of Nixon with Mao, and we tried to explain the views on Nixon, which led us into a pretty frank and not so rosy conversation about the current administration and it’s ties to that administration, which led to a conversation about Reagan, which prompted a man standing nearby to make one of the strongest defensive comments about Reagan I have experienced in a long time, basically deriding Jim for a comment he had made about the decade in which the man was an actor, reminding us quite sternly and condescendingly that he was also the governor before he was the president, and then brashly and huffily turning on his heels and walking away. Seems even Republicans travel to China. We walked away laughing at the absurdity of the exchange. In Korea, it is pretty rare to be around anyone who understands what I’m saying, which is a weird space to be in. I took to heart the realization that my ideas and comments do travel to ears that understand, even in a space where seemingly no one speaks my language. Though I certainly didn’t care what that man thought of my views or Jim’s, it was valuable as an experience to be reminded that I am not alone in my world.

As we made our way to the south entrance of the complex to end our tour of the Temple of Heaven, was walked to the top of the Round Altar, upon which there is a heart center. It is said that if you stand at that heart center and make a wish, it will come true. And when it does, you must travel back to that spot to pay tribute to the gods for bringing your dream to fruition. I think I made a wish. I’m not sure if it will come true.

After a short rest in our hotel so that we could change (it was New Year’s Eve after all), we were taken to our evening of duck and opera. The restaurant was inside a hotel and the opera theater was next door. A dozen groups of foreigners dotted the tables in the space, all of us either probably with the same tour company –Germans, French, English, Australians, Americans. Our dinner was brought out in courses, with some little snack-like treats to start. It wasn’t long after eating some of these fine treats that I began to experience the strangest of sensations. You see, my jaw suddenly felt like it was floating away. Not really locking up, but actually floating on air away from me, like if I didn’t keep it shut, my mouth would just waft away and I wouldn’t be able to eat anything at all. I didn’t have a headache, but my body in general felt this same kind of lightness. Perhaps an MSG allergy? After a few minutes, Jim said, well, um, I’ve heard of this happening to people who have been poisoned. And then they die. Which was definitely heartening, let me tell you. But I just rolled with it, didn’t panic. Stopped eating at that point to let my body settle. Had some of the duck wrapped in lettuce leaves and jajang sauce, but essentially just tried to keep a grip on my jaw until the feeling passed. And it did, but man, was that ever the strangest. Like I was really high. No explanation. Any medical experts out there care to comment?

Post-dinner was traditional Chinese opera. We watched the actors put on their elaborate make-up in the lobby with all the other tour groups, and then we headed to our seats. The seats turned out to be dinner theater-style seats right at a table about two tiers up from the stage. Pretty nice. We were served a lovely array of sweet treats and mandarin oranges and a funky dude in full traditional dress came out to pour hot water into our tea cups from a brass teapot with an extra-long spout. Very theatrical. Kind of kung fu-style water pouring. And then the show. Sparse sets, minimal dialogue, lots of movement and creation of experience on stage. I knew very little about the art, so it was pretty fascinating to watch. There were two plays – one about a traveler whose identity is mistaken and the other that was titled (get this): Monkey King Fights 18 Warriors. Yes. I’m serious. And he did. And the warriors were clowns and carnies. Like midgets, and strong men and guys on stilts and bearded ladies. Seriously. It was pretty hilarious. Kind of like a kung fu circus act. Great costuming, great makeup.

And then it was back to Houhai to find a spot to chill for a New Years’ celebration. We found a tiny little joint to duck into that was pretty chill and ambient. Unfortunately, I had some kind of bee in my bonnet that made me super itchy to get movin’ to the next spot. I’m not really sure what that bee is. It’s this urge that comes over me that insists that I have to get to the next place because it will be so much better than where I am right now. And try as I might, I can’t get that urge to subside or stand down, and sometimes it just takes over. And it did that night. So, instead of just getting up and taking a walk for a while or finding something to do in that space, I made it known that I wanted to leave. This shook Jim out of a zen space he had been in writing and drawing about his experience thus far. And as I continued to insist that we go, his mind got more and more twisted into frustration. And we left there with not so great a boding for what the rest of the evening had to offer.

We managed to find a bar to go to in a different spot, and rang in the New Year with some actual, real mint mojitos, something that we have *not* been able to find in Korea. We met an Australian couple and struck up a chat with them. Ended up in the bar across the street – the Azúcar Bar – where they had bullfighting and Almodóvar posters (seems español was a theme for me in China) and where we listened to about 100 different covers of Beatles songs and met a funny and very drunk Mongolian girl named Emma who spoke good and creative English. She and I had a very funny chat about boys and life and girlfriends. Somewhere around 3 am I was ready to go home. But it didn’t really play out the way I hoped it would. We ended up staying out much later, I ended up getting pretty frustrated with the situation as the Aussie guy was buggin’ and being kind of an ass to Jim, and eventually, I got myself into a point of no return with my frustration. It exploded in a not-so-fun fight on the way home which sadly didn’t end when we got to the hotel.

I had gotten myself stuck in that space where I can’t do anything right and I’m not really good enough and all that tired garbage that I tell myself when I feel out of control and confused and scared. And it took me a while – actually into the next day – to fully come out of it and find the heart of what had happened the night before and why I had reacted the way that I had. Of all the things I’ve learned in Asia, the most critical lesson for me has been to look deeply into my actions and reactions to find the heart of what is driving them and to take responsibility for what is truly mine, no matter how ugly it may seem. Only then can I get past all the surface anxiety and anger and frustration and see the fear and sadness and whatever else exists that pushes me into places like this. And only then can I actually find the true voice in my head, the one that is benevolent and kind and understanding and accepting and allow it to take the space of the voice that is nothing but judgment and accusation and guilt. There is, of course, much more to be said about all of that, but this isn’t quite the right space. Perhaps later.

bustling in beijing

First of all, this was an incredible trip. Truly one of the most spectacular places I have ever traveled for so many reasons – the size of the city, the sheer mass of people moving through it at any one time, the ancient history peeking through towering modernity at every turn, the obvious intensity of urban transformation and urban renewal in preparation for an international debut in August as the host of the 2008 Olympics, and my presence at some of the most fabled locations in history, pulsating with culture, ancient wisdom and deep memory.

It was a trip that took me by surprise, falling just after the Christmas rush – holiday parties, events at school, mailing packages back to the states, the usual holiday fervor. I barely started reading about the city and our planned itinerary just three days before our departure. Most of my research was done on the train to Seoul, reading fascinating articles sent to us by Jim’s dad about the city in flux and the architectural restructuring of Beijing as a place where the ancient and the modern collide, sometimes not so amicably.

The Word on the Street
The topics du jour of most reporting focused on Beijing these days are air quality and the fate of the ancient hutong – the neighborhoods in Beijing that are the diametric opposites of the giant skyscrapers and modern apartment buildings going up all over the city. The air quality, as many people know, is abysmal – in some cases, even being called the “air pollution capital of the world.” Architects have been lamenting the “Beijing haze” that extends across the city and makes viewing new buildings from far distances nearly impossible. Here are a couple of good articles on the current state of air pollution and preparations for the games. The city is taking great measures to curb the pollution in the months leading up to the games, but it’s insane, really, to think that the air will be at all actually “good” for you. When we were there, the haze was visible as were the many smokestacks dotting the skyline. We managed to not develop a hacking cough, but it isn’t a city I’d want to live in for a long period of time precisely because of the air issues.

The other hot topic in the world of journalism is the hutong. The hutong is a classic example of community living in Beijing. They are neighborhoods set in dark, small alleyways all throughout the city. No one has any idea how many there are right now, and there are many conflicting stats on how many there were in 1960 (2,000, 4,000, 6,000) and how many there are now (800, 2,000). What people do agree on is this: there are far less hutong now than there were 50 years ago.

Many hutong were built almost 800 years ago. The Wikipedia article has some good basic info on them. They were originally created in the courtyard-style, with one courtyard housing 20 or so members of one family. The buildings are low-slung, sloped-roof constructions in the shape of a rectangle with a courtyard in the center. Living quarters were placed around this courtyard, with different areas for men and women, cooking, sleeping, etc. During the Cultural Revolution (a topic that’s far too complex to elaborate in here, but one that is fascinating and essential to understanding the history of Beijing and China), when Chairman Mao deemed it necessary to expunge all evidence of external influence on the country – art, music, dance, theater, and even some traditions of artistry that were native to China, there was also a transformation in the housing and city plan situation. Highrises and wide boulevards took priority over the preservation of these historic areas. Over a period of 60 years, many hutongs have been leveled, though hard work has gone into forcing the city to preserve a numbers of areas. In addition, though I’m not so clear on how this went down, but we are told that in the late 70’s, there was an earthquake in Beijing that required creative housing arrangements. One of the executed plans was the transformation of the courtyard spaces in to actual living spaces. So rooms were constructed in the interior spaces, eliminating an essential architectural element and forcing many more people to live in close quarters.

Many hutong have been neglected as living spaces in a city that pushes relentlessly towards modernity. Many do not have indoor plumbing, forcing residents to walk far distances to public toilets on the outskirts of each neighborhood. Some of the hutong are pretty run-down, and people live in squalor. The argument has been that if the government had devoted resources to providing each area with the basic necessities of infrastructure that they needed to be viable as residential areas, there would be much less reason to bulldoze them and build new towering apartments on top of them. But alas, big real estate usually prevails in such situations. And the issues surrounding the hutong are many. There’s the usual concerns that accompany destruction of ancient neighborhoods: displacement of families, loss of affordable housing, etc. And then there’s the idea that some of these places really aren’t suitable for human existence. And so what do you do with that? But whatever you think about the hutong, the destruction and displacement is evident when you get above street level in the city. We stood atop a tower (called the Drum Tower) near the Houhai area and gazed upon several nearby areas that had been clearly leveled to make way for new construction.

There definitely a preservation movement afoot to keep the hutong that are “worth” preserving intact. The Houhai area is one of those being preserved -- and one that is heavily populated by rickshaw drivers ready to take you on a hutong tour. And there’s also a handful of new investors who are commissioning the construction of new courtyard houses either within hutong areas or in between giant apartment buildings, as we witnessed in several places in our tours around the city. Western cash is flowing in to snap up these historic houses. Rupert Murdoch put his name on the list.

Whichever way you cut it, the transformation of Beijing is intense and pervasive. It’s palpable everywhere. The first place we went when we arrived was to a subway stop to catch a cab to a spa we had an appointment at. When we got out of the subway, we were smacked with so many conflicting images – brand new luxury mall across the street complete with Burberry, Chanel, and Gucci; a sign for a Wal-Mart parking lot; hundreds of bicyclers crisscrossing the streets, weaving in an out of serious manic traffic; vendors on the corners selling roasted sweet potatoes out of a giant steel drum barrel burning with hot coals; a magazine stand on the corner brimming with Western fashion magazines, Chinese newspapers and a variety of girlie magazines. And so, with that “brief” introduction, on to the real deal on our trip through Beijing.

2007 December 29: Stopover in Seoul
After trying to make two trains and almost missing the third one, we made it out of Gwangju and up to Seoul. We spent a lovely evening in the city with our dear friends, Bonnie and Justin, sharing good stories, great insights, fabulous music and general silliness. They were generous enough to give us some space to crash at their wee apartment. While we were there, chatting away, drinking Yogi tea and enjoying the warmth of the small space, it had been snowing outside, unbeknownst to the silly kids inside. We flung open the triple set of windows to let some cool air into the steamy space, and found to our delight the street below dusted with fresh snow. One of the most beautiful things for me – snow that falls undisturbed in the wee hours of the night, lit by the orange glow of street lights. Lovely indeed. And so, after a glorious evening, we headed to the airport around 6 am to catch our 2-hour flight to Beijing.

2007 December 30: Landing in Beijing
We were greeted at the airport by our cute little tour guide, Tina. Fresh out of university, this was only her second month as an official guide. She was sweet and funny. She ushered us off to our private car (yes, PRIVATE! No Minnesotans or Floridians in white sneakers to contend with on our tour.), and we headed to our hotel. Once on the highway, the enormity of Beijing was apparent. Construction everywhere, dilapidated buildings abutting brand new concert halls and office complexes, malls everywhere, fabulous modern architecture tucked in next to ancient temple sites and Ming palaces. And the cars. Our perspective on traveling there was interesting having been in Korea for as long as we have been. In Korea, there are very few non-Korean cars on the roads. In Beijing, every make and model you could imagine crawled along in traffic. VW, Ford, Chrysler, Honda, Toyota.

On to the hotel. Wow. Super modern, super posh. Definitely the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in as a traveler. The space was lovely as were the rooms and the buffet breakfast that we discovered the next morning – Western and Chinese food galore. I got crispy bacon and banana bread along with lamb curry and yummy Sichuan chicken. We relaxed in the hotel for a bit, unwinding and unpacking. Put the bunny ears on, of course, with our plush hotel robes. Very decadent. Then, we were off to the Zen Spa to enjoy a 90 minute signature combo massage (Thai, Swedish, Chinese and some other things thrown in for good measure). The winter season with its low tourism rates made the offer too good to pass up – about $100 for a 90 minute massage in a private couple room set in a courtyard house. I mean really!

Our trip was a trip. We had no idea how to get where we were going. The place was pretty far out in the southeastern corner of the city, beyond the 4th Ring Road (the city is divided by 4 ring roads that encircle the ancient center of the city, the first of which resulted in the destruction of the original city wall in its construction). We jumped on the subway, managed to get to our stop, and found a taxi to the spa. On the way, we passed some really bizarre new buildings and our first Wal-Mart in China. When we arrived at the spa, it was tucked back behind a lot of crazy construction, down a small street bordering a city river of sorts. I jumped out of the taxi (super cheap, btw, about $4 for a 20 minute ride), and left one glove behind in my haste and amazement at where we had found ourselves. It’s impossible to describe the beauty and awe of this city. Hopefully the pictures we have will do it some justice. But I’ll try to explain. We had come upon a courtyard house with several different sections. On the right side was a large meeting hall or temple space of sorts that housed a large number of chairs in the main room as well as a dozen large jade sculptures that lined the windows. The room had a stage or sorts and a balcony area. There was a main door to the space immediately in front of us. I don’t have any idea what the place was used for, but it was gorgeous. The entrance to the spa was on the left. We walked up some stone steps and found a sleek line of marble and granite speckled with tea lights leading us to the reception area. We were greeted with such warmth and accommodation by lovely receptionists. We were ushered to our room across the courtyard, a space that contained a stunning Japanese garden lined by a traditionally painted corridor that wrapped around its circumference.

And oh the room. Oh my. I don’t know that I’ve ever stepped into a place that was quite as beautiful as this. It was probably about 800 sq. ft. complete with a silk upholstered couch, two massage tables, a bed in the corner for special treatments, a huge divided bathroom with a toilet and sink on one side and a double Jacuzzi tub on the other, and finally, a granite shower with bamboo lining one wall. Everything was candlelit and adorned with small purple orchids and gerber daisies. There were even gerbers floating in a bowl just below the spot of the table for our heads, so that when we were laying face down, our views was of them rather than just the ground.

The massage was incredible. One therapist for each of us. 90 minutes of heaven. It had been a long time since I indulged like that, and let me tell you, Kabuki’s got nothing on this place. We drank lovely lemon green tea and enjoyed some snacks after our treatment in the main reception area. I had mentioned to the receptionist that I had left my glove in the taxi, and she promised to “do her best” to recover the glove for me. Sure enough, as I was getting ready to pay, she reached under the counter and produced the missing glove. She had tracked down the taxi and asked him to come back to take us wherever we needed to go next. I was astounded. But not as astounded at the random deal we got shortly thereafter. I handed the girl my amex card to pay for the treatments. She disappeared for a minute and returned with the news that since we both had the same treatment, and I was paying with an amex, I would get a 15% discount. That’s what I heard. 15%. So the slip comes back for me to sign, and I’m startled b/c the 15% I thought I heard had suddenly turned into 50%. So, for the lucky price of 800 RMB (or ~$100), we got two of the best massages we’ve had in a long time in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I was floored and couldn’t explain until we got to the car. And when we did, we found the same taxi driver ready to take us to our next destination.

And that destination was Wal-Mart.

Go ahead, laugh all you want. We went. It was a necessary evil. It was weird. We escaped rather quickly, even snagging some great deals on Chinese New Year paper art on our way. We ducked into the godforsaken place to see if we couldn’t find a camera for jim as he had left his prized digital in Gwangju and was understandably distraught over the loss of it. We ended up moving on to another place and finding a decent camera and paying cash in full for it.

And off we went to Houhai, a district of hutong, bars, restaurants, cafes and clubs lining a lovely lake district in the northwestern section of town, above the Forbidden City. We meandered in extremely cold weather along a long boulevard and discovered a tiny little Tibetan restaurant with only a handful of tables. Inside, we found warmth and not a single other customer. The place was adorned with gorgeous traditional Tibetan art and the waitresses, clearly a family, were dressed in the most beautiful silk gowns. We ordered two different kinds of curries, a rice dish that came with an explosion of flavorful additions mixed into it, and a sheep leg (I kept saying how it tasted like the farm, and Jim kept asking me, what farm?). We drank tea that we couldn’t possibly identify and Tibetan beer. After dinner, we wandered further into the neighborhood and found a bustling street with lots of shops and bars. We heard Jack Johnson drifting down the street and ducked into the bar that was its source. A dark little cavern where I had the worst Manhattan of my life and Jim drank a pretty decent Brandy Alexander, though I’ve never actually had one, so I couldn’t tell you what the hell it’s supposed to taste like. We got pretty tired pretty fast and made our way back to our palatial room at the Holiday Inn.

Stay tuned for more tales from Beijing...