Spirit in the sky

Saturday, 24/11/2012 – 163 days after departure

It was time to finally see Chairman Mao. We got to Tiananmen Square about an hour before closing, not quite as windswept as we were during our previous abortive attempt. But that day had been during the week, and now it was Saturday so the queue to get into the mausoleum was massive. We shuffled and shuffled for what felt like miles and went through about three separate security checks, which we got through with zero fuss. I get the impression that all of this security is to stop home-grown “terrorists” and enemies of the state, such as the Falun Gong movement, but a couple of gormless westerners like us pose no threat whatsoever. Suits us just fine!

There was more shuffling up to the mausoleum itself, and we refused the chance to buy some kind of sacred flower to take inside. You never know if there’s some kind of secret rule that forbids those not born on this soil from doing such a thing. At least we didn’t have to worry about the usual respectful procedure that we’ve come across at recent temples – no shorts. Yeah right, in this weather??? The other golden rule was not to talk and I decided that I would not smile either, as befitted what effectively felt like one long funeral procession. Obviously no photographs were allowed, and Tim wasn’t prepared to continue his recent theme of taking secret video footage.

Inside the mausoleum there were plain clothes security people and guards in full ceremonial uniform all around. The first room contained a big white statue of the Chairman seated. In front of him was some kind of large rectangular box covered with red velvet, which was in turn covered with all of the scared flowers the punters had carefully placed as a sign of respect. At first I wondered whether the body itself was inside the red velvet box, thus covered by the flora. Seemed like a bit of swizz to me, but then we continued to shuffle forward into the next room, inside which was the glass box which contained the ‘great’ man’s coffin. The lower part of him was draped with what appeared to be the red and yellow flag of the Chinese communist party, but his upper torso was visible, dressed in what I assume to have been standard Communist party uniform. And his face was there with eyes closed, perfectly preserved since 1976 (supposedly). It is ironic that Mao was one of the first of the revolutionary leaders to sign an act that specified he should be cremated upon his death, but his wishes were obviously ignored (same with Ho Chi Minh). And I called him a great man using inverted commas because I know that opinions the world over are divided on just how great he was. As usual, I won’t get all political in this blog, but I have to say that standing there in his tomb today, I couldn’t help but feel a real sense of reverence, along with the masses of people who came to see him on just another day in the Chinese year.

The whole time in the mausoleum did not last very long, but at least now I had achieved my somewhat strange ambition of seeing a seeing a cadaver (even though rumours suggest it is just a waxwork, not the real thing). Because we’d not brought our cameras with us, we decided to head back to the hotel to get them. At this point I’d like to highlight two things that you will come across in Beijing for sure, and possibly all of China. The first is a positive thing, the second not so:

1.      Public toilets are everywhere! They range from being brand spanking new with marble sinks to the type of place where pigeons go to die in the pipes. But for someone like me with a bladder with a mind of its own, they’re a Godsend. It is a ten minute walk from our hotel to the metro station and there are no less than four separate public toilets on the route! How good is that? But it’s not just in this part of town, they’re anywhere you go in the city. And you don’t have to pay for any of them – take that, Siem Reap bus station!

2.      Spitting. Oh dear, this is sooo not good! There is a Chinese belief that it is unhealthy to have phlegm inside your body. So what do people do when they realise they have a bit of phlegm in them? Why they simply make that disgusting throat-clearing noise and gob it out onto the pavement. Not just the pavement really, any part of the floor that they happen to be walking across. Occasionally I’ve seen people spitting into bins, but if there isn’t one in the vicinity then they do not care. And it’s not just the old geezers doing it – across all ages, all genders, and all walks of life, they spit constantly! It’s been worse in Beijing than Shanghai, but apparently it happens everywhere in China. However, it’s not all bad – our Chinese friend Haven, for one, thinks it’s disgusting, so maybe in a generation or so you won’t have to walk the streets and always be looking out for greenies underfoot. 

After lunch we rode our favourite metro (20 pence to go ANYWHERE) downtown to where we’d heard there was a famous market. It was originally called Silk Street Market, but then it got shortened to simply The Silk Market. But it wasn’t the kind of market we like (outdoor stalls and spittle on the ground); this was another indoorsy one with smalls shops separated from their competitors by glass panels, all selling the same old stuff. In fact, it was mostly just clothes and jewellery and now that I’ve got teacher-coat I don’t need to shop for that kind of garment anymore. Not sure I really need any kind of extra garment for now. When it’s cold you sweat less and so you get through less clothes. In a non-humid climate there is no guilt for the hardcore traveller wearing the same T-shirt two days in a row, sometimes three. And so there wasn’t much for us at the Silk Market, but our hearts weren’t in it anyway. Haven had told us that Xi`an was quite an inexpensive town, so we’d hold on `til there.

However, one thing I did get from the nearby chemists was a chapstick. Well I’m not going to get a girl’s one, am I? Bwahahahahar! The chapped lips since arriving in China were not going away, so I decided to fight lack of moisture with, errr, moisture on a stick. And so far, so good.  I’m sure you’re immensely glad to know that this minor inconvenience has now been taken care of!

The Temple of Heaven is another attraction on the top five list for visitors to Beijing. Familiar in design to the Forbidden City (i.e. Ming meets Qing dynasties meets a bit of restoration by the People’s Republic) it consists of a large park containing several sacred religious sites. The emperors would come here on an annual basis to perform ceremonies to that would bestow favour upon various aspects of Chinese life over the coming year. The ceremonies were essentially Taoist in nature, but there was also some info scattered around about how older religious practices on these sites pre-dated these ceremonies by thousands of years. At the time I thought it quite ironic to see information about any religious practices whatsoever in a modern country which I had believed to be officially atheist, but upon doing a bit of research it seems that tolerance of religious expression has been permitted in China since the 1980s. That’s fair enough then, and shows what I know (or what I thought I knew!)

[This is the The Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests.]

[Looks a lot like The Forbidden City, doesn't it? Well that's Ming-Qing-style architecture for you!]

We cleared out of the sacred park when it closed at 17:00 and got the metro back to our hotel. I like Beijing. I have another 24 hours here, but I already feel as though I’ve had my fill, so anything else is a bonus. And despite the freezing shower, the leaky sink and the iffy aircon, the hotel has been pretty good, even though it’s really just a hostel masquerading as a hotel. We’ve eaten three out of four nights in their little restaurant, so that can’t be bad, though being  feline fanatics, the Grayboys are always going to enjoy a meal more if we each have a cat snoozing beside us on the chair. Well it’s only natural they’re indoors with weather like this. New Zealand was chilly, but it won’t ever get colder than this on our entire world trip, and I think we’ve coped with it quite well, girly-chapped lips an` all.