The Last Day

I think today I did more in one day than I ever before managed to cram in to twenty-four hours. As usual, the wakeup call was 6:30, and painful, but being able to wear trainers instead of boots was lovely, and a dress! I had forgotten what it was like! (Though to be truthful, the outfit doesn't quite portray me as a stylish individual, due to the scarcity of garments left in my suitcase).


We had the standard Wu Huan breakfast, as before. I ventured to try a soup, but this was a regrettable decision. Then off we went! Out into Beijing, my new favourite city. First of all we went to the Temple of Heaven park, to have a tai chi lesson in the bracing autumn wind (my initial fondness for my dress soon wore off). Like most things I have seen here, the park was massive, and full of people, mostly the elderly doing their morning exercises.


There is vast provision for outdoor activities, with a least a hundred different manual exercise machines set up for the public’s free use. I had a little go, and was welcomed. If I had to describe China in a word, I would say friendly. As we walked on further we saw a troupe of men playing harmonicas, and several clusters of people gathered around portable speakers, just dancing for the fun of it.


Michael said that this is commonplace, and anyone is free to join in. I think the happiness of the people here must be a contributing factor to the supposed longevity of Asian people (average life expectancy in China is 74 for a woman). We in England could learn a lot from the mentality here, I think.


By the old temple kitchens, where sacrifices and offerings were prepared in the dynasty eras, there were more people still. The elderly gather every day to play mahjong, cards, or to crochet in company. We saw a few birds in cages, which is also nothing strange. Instead of taking the dog for a walk, Chinese men will often bring their birds to the park under a dark cloth. When the bird is exposed to the sun it will sing. They like to have competitions, to see whose bird can sing the best.


Tai chi was good fun. We had a twenty minute session, and learned a little routine. We were informed that tai chi was originally used for combat, but now it is a practise to find balance. The Taoist belief is that all things are yin and yang; sun and moon, fire and water, man and woman etc. Too much fire is an excess of yin, which means a need for water. Tai chi is supposed to bring inner peace, and I must admit it was relaxing.


After bidding our teacher goodbye we went along to the Temple of Heaven, which was spectacular. Translated direct from the Chinese its name is ‘the hall of prayer for good harvest,’ and it is where the emperor would come, twice a year, to pray for a good harvest and thank the gods, though what they did when the harvest was bad I don’t know! It was built in 1412, and I can’t imagine how striking it was then, because as it is now, I think it is the most beautiful building I have ever seen.


On the outside there are four trees on the top layer, and twelve on both the middle and bottom. They represent the seasons, the months, and the hours in the day. The total of twenty-eight is the number of constellations in heaven.


After we had taken enough photos to make a brochure, and meandered our way back through the park, we went to a teahouse just opposite the main gate. Every wall was covered in colourful tea sets, and all round the rooms there were wall hangings and fabric vines. It was kitsch, and delightful. We had a tea-tasting session, in which the aptly named Miss Ti introduced us to the six types of tea – oolong, pure, green, black, white, and flower. My favourites were the oolong ginseng tea, which is apparently good for memory, and also the fruit tea, which I was persuaded into buying, together with a free ‘pee pee boy’ – a ceramic baby who will urinate if he sits in hot water. It is good luck if you get sprayed by the cheeky thing.


After this we went on to Tiananmen Square, which translates as ‘gate of heavenly peace.’ It is the biggest square in the world, and can hold one million people, as it did on the day Chairman Mao proclaimed the birth of new China. It is a strange thing, to be in a place you've heard about all your life, when to stand with its paving beneath your own feet, you would never know about the sorry history of the place.


All the features are proud celebrations of China’s progress. They don’t show Mao’s wife committing suicide in prison, or the student demonstration. Michael said that the tank photo incident is rarely spoken of. The fate of the man in that photo is unknown, thought I suppose when the rumours are death and imprisonment it is not difficult to see why people don’t like to talk about it.


There were plenty of Chinese about, all taking photos with the 1949-2015 monuments. I wonder if part of the happiness of this nation is born from the price they paid to get here. Since the fall of the feudal system China has spent most of its time caught in a battle between two extremes. Only now is it starting to balance out. I suppose I would be grateful too, if I had been through so much and survived.


After this we walked through the great gate over which Mao stares out over the square, framed by the words (in rough translation) ‘long live the People’s Republic of China. Long live the great unity of the world’s peoples.’


We went for lunch before we entered the Forbidden City. I think perhaps I am starting to tire of buffet meals, but since I intend to make a return here, I hope that perhaps we have been a little cossetted, and provided only with a selection of Chinese dishes that are deemed suitable for the English palette.


We spent most of the afternoon in the Forbidden City. To look at it, you would never believe that people used to actually live there, and when it was built in 1420 I imagine it must have seemed like heaven on earth to anyone who stole inside to see it. Like many beautiful things, it was not shared. The emperor lived within its walls with his concubines (throughout the dynasties their numbers varied between eight hundred and three thousand), children, and servants, all of whom were eunuchs.


Besides any older sons, the emperor would be the only sexually active man in residence, sampling different women every night, some of whom might never be called again after their first encounter. Imagine their lives! Pulled from their families are fourteen, paraded before a man they knew only as the son of heaven, and then if they failed to impress him in the bedroom they were condemned to a life of celibacy and pointless misery. They were trapped in a city they could not leave, surrounded by riches they had no use for. I can think of few unhappier fates – no life, no love, and no chance of ever making a fresh start. I imagine these creatures were vicious, and malevolent towards each other. If three thousand women fought over the affections of one man, there must have been a certain sharpness to the air.


The gardens were the kind of thing you see in the most well-filtered, enhanced photos, but they were as gorgeous in reality as any photo that could be taken. The rocks, that looked as though they had been hauled from the depths of the ocean, are in fact man-made constructions, status symbols, because making them was an expensive process. The Emperor’s garden had great tangles of them, many larger than men. And the trees! Some were three hundred years old! It was beautiful, but such a word is no justice. It is an echo of a whisper next to the inexpressible truth.


Michael told us about the last emperor, who was deceived into thinking that he ruled China, even though his power was removed when he was only six. Having made a deal, the royal family were allowed to remain living the Forbidden City until 1924, when they were evicted, and the poor soul learned of his true inheritance.


Promised help to reclaim his lost throne, he betrayed his country to the Japanese during WWII. When the Russians caught him and ransomed him back to China he was imprisoned and re-educated over a period of several years. When he was released he became a gardener, and would visit the Forbidden City among the tourists, who never knew his true identity. He died in 1964, and unlike his prestigious ancestors with their underground labyrinths, he was buried in a public graveyard like any other old, unimportant man.


However magnificent the Forbidden City is, there is no way to forget the tragedies which occurred there, and the suffering that its queer, isolated nature wrought upon the souls who lived inside.


After we had toured the main paths of the place (the whole thing, even just the parts that are open to the public, would be a day in itself) we got back on the coach, and went to a knock-off market. In English it translated as the Pearl Market, and it was packed, first floor to fifth, with all kinds of delightful trinkets and baubles that the frivolous spender would do well to avoid. I had little money left, but I did haggle for a scarf, a fan, and a pin for my hair. Stephanie found a ‘Prada’ handbag, and Emma and Sarah came away laden with impressive purchases.


There is a huge counterfeit industry in China. Because the Chinese must pay import tax (around 30%) on all goods from foreign-owned companies, there is a high demand for fake designer clothing and accessories. The quality ranges from a-grade (indistinguishable from the genuine article, and now unavailable to the public via legal means because of foreign pressure on the government), to b-grade, c-grade, and street-grade. The last tends to be of poor quality, but the others can be quite convincing, and a-grade goods are often sold in illegal, hidden shops that can only be found by getting in the owner’s good opinion.


It would be so easy to spend money here. I think it’s probably just as well I brought a limited amount!


We drove back to the hotel by dusk, to doll up for the last time (my lack of fresh clothes made this quite an effort), and then went to our presentation dinner at the Bian Yi Fang Roast Duck Restaurant, where everyone drank a lot of wine, and I ate more than I ever should again. We were presented with medals, and certificates from Badaling, and in my happiness there was a trace of sadness.


We did, have done it. Like all good things, our trip has come to an end, and I am so sorry to be leaving that the only way I can face it without sorrow is to promise that I will return as soon as I can.