Ni Hao Know How

Beijing is one of the few great cities in the world that has a vivid living history that stretches back thousands of years. Although it is much younger than Rome or Athens, this city has absorbed modern intrusions unappologetically and has no appetite for mere ruins. The heart of the city, however, remains the ancient Forbidden City, and the megalopolis stetches out symmetrically from it like a fractal pattern of the old imperial compound.

Although I arrived here frazzled and exasperated, a short rest and a stroll through the streets were enough to immediately lift my spirits and rekindle my excitement for travel. There is a markedly different attitude and atmosphere here compared to Shanghai's voluntary amnesia of dark, hazy opium dens and its current preoccupation with making money. Beijing seems more aware of the constant passage of time. Maybe its epic history constantly reminds people that life is ultimately short. People laugh and smile more here, play cards or chess in the streets and parks, or find leisure in chatting while flying kites.

Despite the rigourous image of the communist state, I think the average Chinese person is quite anarchistic. The heavy hand is there to put this in check, but when the eye is not looking, any and every attempt to disobey what might be considered unreasonable is carried out. It is quite common to see people climb over barriers or go against traffic, which require constant scolding by police with loud megaphones but there are really no hard consequences. I think this is where the difference in how discipline is maintained in Asia and the western world: the West uses internal guilt, the East uses external shame.

My intoductory stroll followed the huge crowd to Tian'anmen Square, filing through its namesake Gate of Heavenly Peace and into the forecourt of the Forbidden City. It was good to scout out what I had to do to get in on the next day, and I moved on eastward to the modern commercial areas. It was easy to absorb the city's confident vibe.

There is food everywhere here, and it is amazing what they whip up in such confined spaces. In the back alleyways of the hutongs you can often hear the jet-like sound of flames firing up the woks and the clanking of utensils as cooks busily stir fry. The hygene is quite good, and most of the larger restaurants post their health inspection grade at the door if you want to play it safe. I made a requisite walk along the Donhuamen Night Market and its collection of street food stalls, sampling enough snacks to constitute a dinner.

I had a fitful sleep having dispensed of my angst and made it back to the clamour in front of the Forbidden City. Getting a ticket is not for the faint of heart, I had to get on a crushing line up for about an hour. In the last 5 metres of the line, what I thought was several lineups gets squeezed into one with barriers, and it seriously feels like being stuffed into a funnel with people behind you pushing beyond your control. Ticket finally in hand there is nothing to do but laugh, like having just gone through a hazing and looking at the poor people in the back of the line knowing what they have to go through.

Despite the crowds the Forbidden City is spectacular. It is one of those places that inspire such awe, and the presence of thousands of people around you actually make you appreciate its sheer scale. Although I spent most of the day wandering through its seemingly endless courtyards, it was not enough to complete the automatic audio guide tour by the time they closed in the afternoon. Nevertheless, I had overdosed on stories of Emperors and Empress Dowagers anyway.

As dusk fell, my feet were aching and my stomach was grumbling. It was time to try my luck and tuck into duck.