The Summer Palace

The Summer Palace:

As a final outing during his stay, Kwong wanted to visit the Summer Palace. We were both game, since we had yet to visit this acclaimed beauty of Beijing. When we woke, the day was just as amazing as the previous had been. The sky was pure blue. All we saw during the entire day out was a single fluff of cloud. We gathered and then headed to road to catch a taxi to the Summer Palace.

When we arrived, the place was alive with people. Kwong went to purchase tickets and we watched the people swarm about in groups, the hum was loud, even over the wind that rustled the trees with vengeance.

We pushed our way through the throng that just wanted photos in the court-yard-like entry area and out toward the lake that surrounds the Summer Palace. Once on the walk-way that skirts the lake, the wind was a force to be reckoned with. The wind threw water over the high embankments onto passers by with little effort. The howling and shuttering of the trees was deafening. We pushed our way against the wind to view the lake. As we left the entry-way, the mass of people thinned to almost no-one. We first crossed the bridge with 17 arches to the building where the Emperor and Empress would join on a small island. We then returned to the lovely path around the lake, with the wind still muscling us around.

There were some small foot-bridges made of marble, just like the bridge with 17 arches, but they were only small arches themselves, to cross small canals. The bridges were odd in that the grade of the steps changed as they went up. The initial grade was rather low, being very easy to climb, but quickly increased to a rather large step that was very steep. The appearance of the bridges was beautiful, because the grade change created a lovely high arch, but to climb them took a bit of concentration to not stumble over your feet.

Most of the trees surrounding the lake were very old and huge. Many of them had been patched to prevent further deterioration. The branches of some of the really old ones were propped up with metal bars, a procedure that appears to be common in places where they preserve the trees. We have seen this in the Forbidden City, The Temple of Heaven, and now in the Summer Palace. The trees serve a very important purpose here, so the preservation of them is completely understandable.

The wind finally started to relax once we rounded the southern end of the lake. Some ducks puttered around in the water, initially appearing to be decoys, we realized our mistake when one of them bobbed his head about a little. The cold and wind didn't seem to bother them too much.

We made our way over to the Marble boat and snapped a few photos from afar. I am not certain if it is ever open to the public, but this day it was not. It has beautiful stained glass windows and loads of detailed marble sculpting all over.

We had lunch and then headed to the highest point in the Summer Palace. Despite our musings at where the entire clump of people had been our travel around the lake, we weren't surprised to see them again at temple. The trip up the hill to the top was not only tiring, but so very fascinating. There were a maze of paths, some of which were cave-like, others beautifully paved with stones in flower patterns. The twisting and turning was well worth it. The amazing view from the top of the hill was breathtaking on such a clear and sunny day.

On our way down the hill, back to the entrance, we had to work our way through the crowds again, squeezing here and going around there. It was quite a work out, but eventually we made it out again.

We now had to find a taxi to take us to WangFuxing where Kwong promised we would find an excellent restaurant to have some dinner after paying our respects to the Well of the Wang family. (WANGFUXING = The well of the Wang family in Chinese. Kwong explained that the Wang family was a wealthy family ages ago, and the street was named for the well that is now just a beautifully decorated culvert cover with dragons adoring it's edges and an inscription about the Wang family in Chinese).

We got in a taxi, and had a bit of a ride. The taxi was unmarked, and so after a bit we decided that he wasn't going to take us to the correct spot and jumped ship. We found another taxi (marked this time) and were only a short distance from our destination. It cost us a little but we made it to the street.

On the street we saw a huge and beautiful Catholic church. We then headed the other way and found the restaurant. It was about 5pm so we all decided that it was perfect timing for dinner. The restaurant was not so crowded at this hour. We relaxed and had a nice dinner, then headed back home.

Sunday Stroll

Meeting:

Once again, I found myself looking for Paula. This time, I was at the Silk Market. Our meeting was well planned this time. Noon at the Irish Sandwich place in the Silk Market we would meet for lunch.

Just before noon, I arrived via subway, bumbling about in B1 of the Silk Market, I learned quickly that the sandwich place was not down there. Leather shoes, purses and belts were sold on this floor. I circled the area, just to be sure, avoiding the constant request for me to, "Come see." "Have a look" and "Need a bag?" I made it back to the stairs. At the top of the stairs was the Irish Sandwich place sign. I stepped outside and sat down at a table outside the shop. There was a bit until noon, so I ordered a smoothie. The prices were excessive, as expected from somewhere in the silk market. I sipped the berry smoothie, waiting for Paula. The flavor was pretty bitter, but not unpleasantly so. Despite the excessive use of ice, I enjoyed the beverage well enough.

About fifteen minutes after I sat down with my beverage, Paula peeked around the door to the Silk Market. We smiled in greeting to each other, and headed out. She knew we wouldn't miss each other meeting at an unmistakable place like an Irish Sandwich shop. There could be only one near the Silk Market.

Paula had a restaurant in mind for lunch. It was a Sischuan place, but she wasn't entirely sure where it was, or even if it was in this area. We crossed the street to a long strip of restaurants, but none were the one she was expecting to find. We did find a nice Thai place and settled in for a good meal.

After finishing lunch, we headed to retrieve her parka from the tailor where she had commissioned it. She got a really nice deal on it. It was lovely and looked so warm. She really needed one since she was headed to Lhasa. It looked wonderful on her, such a perfect fit.

She then demonstrated an event that she told me was common on her previous visit to Beijing years earlier. She went to buy some fruit from an alleyway, but the officer guarding the alleyway wouldn't let her in. She had encountered this the previous day when she commissioned the parka, but this time she was determined to get her fruit. She insisted that she give the police officer the money to buy the fruit, but he wouldn't take it. Finally a woman with a baby outside the alleyway who understood what was going on helped Paula get the fruit she wanted and we were on our way again. I had never seen such an event. The officer insisted that we were not to enter the alley, and put himself in front of Paula every time she moved to enter.

We then caught a cab to head back to Wangfuxing, to the hostel where she was staying. The hostel was tucked into a hutong area. This quaint little humble hostel was beautiful inside. The community bathroom was amazingly clean. The rooms were small, but clean and beautifully decorated. The small courtyard area was full of healthy beautiful plants with some caged parakeets and a cricket. Neither the birds nor the cricket were singing, but the sun was lying beautifully upon the wooden table decorated with flowering plants. I was impressed. Paula told me the girls that keep the hostel cleaned the table with a toothbrush the day prior. They were very friendly and kind.

We decided to take a short trip over to the near by park. Paula and I walked for a bit, and then I saw the immensity of the park. After checking the time, I was sure I would feel rushed if we went ahead inside, so she walked me back to the subway and I made it home in time to get ready for dinner with Kwong, Logan, and Cullen. Having walked so much, I was worn out. Paula is in amazing shape. She didn't slow for a second.

Dinner was hot pot at a mushroom place. The dinner was wonderful, and when I got home, I was so ready to crash. I felt that long walk for days.

The Temple of Heaven

Saturday Meeting:

We had agreed on the train to meet Paula at the Temple of Heaven on Saturday, the day after returning from Mongolia. Cullen and I set out to meet at 10:00am. The sky had a slight grey hue, and the air was a bit heavy. Despite this, we weren't the only people who planned to see the Temple of Heaven that day. The taxi dropped us off in a dense crowd of tourists and locals at the South entrance.

We purchased our through tickets, which enabled us to be able to see all the buildings in the Temple, not just stroll through the park. When we glanced at the back of the ticket, we were a bit disappointed to find there were not one, but about 4 entrances to the park. This made our odds of picking the right entrance pretty slim. We waited a bit, then expecting that she would have entered from the North entrance, the one closest to the direction she was staying...we entered the Temple of Heaven, expecting to meet her as we made our way across the park and buildings.

After a bit of stumbling around, we found a coffee shop. Cullen bought an "Americano" Coffee. Immediately he decided that they made it out of sewer water, and rushed to find some sugar. Despite his attempts to cover the flavor, he still describes this coffee as the most foul concoction described as coffee that he has ever had.

There were people all over the park playing a version on hacke-sack with a little shuttle-cock looking "sack". Most were red and fluorescent pink with white and beige feathers protruding out of the "up" side of the puck. Upon closer inspection, the "sack" part appeared to be several pieces of cloth stacked upon each other. We will definitely purchase one and dissect it. They look like loads of fun.

We went into several of the rebuilt Temple areas which had large furnaces for burning animal sacrifices and loads of stairs. The buildings were vibrantly painted, and structurally similar to all the others we have seen with the criss-crossing beam structure in the roof and the spacious standing area before the raised platforms.

There was an open circular platform where it is said that your voice echoes differently from the center. There were so many people trying to take photos and milling around on the structure, Cullan and I were unwilling to wait around and find out. The whole area had these very old and very huge cedars. They twisted and sprawled toward the sky higher than I have seen a cedar go. The girth of their trunks was so very impressive. Their twisted and gnarled bark held faces and shapes.

Voices rose over the temple Walls and we followed them out into the park to find out what the clamor was. There was a chorus sining in the park. We wandered a bit further and found a group under an archway playing tunes on a collection of Chinese instruments.

By the time we exited the park, the sky was quite blue and beautiful. We went and had some lunch, then were ready to head back home. The trip to Mongolia took a lot out of us, and we were ready for some relaxation.

Bicycle 1

I am just going to preface with blog post with the fact that many wonderful things have happened this past week. I suppose it is only fair for one inevitable bad thing to happen.

I am sad and feel a bit violated right now. One of our bicycles just got stolen while we were out today.

It's very sad.

Return

There is a quite sadness and a calm relief that comes over me when I am going back to my normal routine after an interruption of this sort. The exhaustion of days of traveling, having a wonderful time, and enjoying the world caught up to us on the train back. We were visited a bit by Paula, who we met on the train to Mongolia. We set up a time to go visit the Temple of Heaven after we got back to Beijing.

The trip back to Beijing was spent resting and relaxing. We did have a small event when we reached the Mongolian border. A couple of people got kicked off the train. We aren't certain why. There was a bit of conversation and they left. We then fell asleep through the wheel change and woke only to get our passports back from the Chinese border guards.

We lugged our baggage off the train at about 2:44pm, a bit early, but I'm not complaining. The leaves had turned more yellow and orange while we were gone, and it was a lovely surprise to return to.

When we got home, we were both ready for a long needed rest.

Genuine Wild Horses

Freezing:

Early in the morning, before we were even close to ready to wake up, the fire had gone out, and Cullen woke to poke around in it. He discovered that all the coal had burned up, and threw whatever fuel he could find to get some warmth in there. This consisted of a small amount of manure, insufficient to make the ger warm again. We rested a bit longer, but were up and ready to find the wild horses soon enough. Una came in and pulled out the sweet rolls, bread, butter and cheese again.

Breakfast was quick and we were ready to be up and moving. The temperature outside was enough to freeze the standing water with a very fine sheet. The sky was pale and looming with the promise of precipitation. The sun couldn't be seen yet, and we were cold under that thick cover of clouds. Muggie drove us into the national park, with both he and Una looking out for any sign of the wild horses. It wasn't long, and he pulled off the road in front of a nice little creek. The horses were far enough away and blending so well with the background that it was hard for us to see them, but Una saw them and unloaded us onto the cool morning grass.

We walked a bit out and watched them eat and drink for a bit, snapping photos. There were three adult horses and two foals. The babies were colored a bit differently, but they were all blending well with the maze color of the fields of grass. They were beautiful.

We didn't stay too long out in the cold air. We watched them slowly migrate over the edge of the mountain and disappear before leaving the area. It was a rare and beautiful moment. The air was filled with cold moisture and the smell of earthy grass.

When we headed back out of the park, we stopped to go hear a nice talk about the purpose and the creation of the park. The park was created after the extinction of the Przewalski horse in it's natural habitat in the 1960s. It was reintroduced from the animals that had been raised in zoos across the world.

On our way to the cement ger the sky started slipping little white specks on us. The feel of them was just a whisper across my face, and they didn't settle for long anywhere, just long enough to see small wet specks on the cement walkway.

We also watched a video about the park, the common requisite for attending any park. And were introduced to the fact that the park actually contains marmot, an endangered and rare animal of Mongolia that used to be hunted for it's meat. It's illegal now to kill the marmot, but we did get to see at least 2 of their dens while we were out in the park. It surprised me that the marmot was such a large animal. I had always considered that they were rather small and rodent-like, but they are about the size of a beaver.

As we left the two cement ger, the snow actually started falling in earnest. They weren't large flakes, but clumps of white dots, as if a fifth grade science student was working on his solar-system project above us and couldn't quite get the size of pluto right. I couldn't help being excited.

We hopped into the van, and Muggie drove a bit, then stopped. Una turned to Teri and said, "You can drive now." Teri excitedly rushed to the driver's seat, anxious to have a go at the Mongolian roads. The car was a manual transmission, so she killed it the first time, getting used to the clutch. It didn't take her long to get the hang of the roads, then it was my turn. I did pretty good, then Emma had a go, and finally Cullen.

Once we all had our turns, Muggie took back control of the vehicle and the sky began to pour out huge chunks of white fluff. I watched as it settled in the spaces between the yellow-golden grass. It was only really melting on the road, making a muddy, slippery mess. We were glad Muggie was driving again.

Mongolian Staples of life:

When we stopped for lunch, the snow had already stopped. We had a nice meal at a restaurant and then headed back into town. To be sure we didn't miss out on any of the trip, she took us to a small ger in the center of town that served Ariag and horse meat.

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect as far as flavor and odor were concerned. The ger smelled like the fresh warm odor of juicy steak. The ger had the usual iron stove and table in the center. It had couches for guests and small stools gathered around the table which had a nicely decorated bowl. The bowl had a ladle in it made of wood with a horse head sculpted at the handle. The bowl contained airag. We sat around the table and Una ordered one bowl of airag for us to share. Emma had the first drink, which Una responded to with a laugh and, "You just let it touch your lips," then took the bowl and had a nice hearty dreg. Teri was next, and her face spoke of polite disgust. Now it was my turn.

The flavor was very light and salty. It wasn't sweet or dirty tasting like I expected. It was also quite thin. It wasn't at all what my brain had prepared my mouth for. There wasn't any aroma or distinctive flavor. It was quite light, but odd. It had no bite either. The fermentation process leaves the beverage with a lower alcohol content than beer. To try the drink blind, I would probably have guessed that it was room temperature water salted a bit with a touch of something I can't name. I would have never even come close to guessing it was a milk product.

Hanging along the wall were the leather sacks that they produce the airag in by churning it regularly with a wooden dowel.

We were also permitted to taste the horse meat that was causing the whole ger to smell like bbq. The horse meat was just like beef. I have had a steak in the US that tasted exactly like this bit of meat that I swished about in my mouth. If it had been served instead of beef in any dish or at any meal, I am certain it would be difficult to tell it was horse.

Back in the van, we were ready for a good shower and some relaxation. We headed back to Khongor Guest House. We invited Una and Muggie out with us that evening to go see the cultural show and to visit the restaurant/brewery that we had tried to go to the first night in Ulan Bator. Every inch of my body smelled like goat and old dirty human. The steam of the shower only enhanced the odor until the soap began to wash the muck and grime off. It was the cleanest I had felt in a while.

We all had a good scrub-up and a nice sit. We loaded back into the van and headed out to the Culture show.

Mongolian Culture:

The descriptions of the culture show before we arrived had included brief mentions of the Horse headed violin that is the country's pride, and contortionist. I was expecting something similar to the acrobatics show we saw in Beijing. We actually arrived a bit late, missing the first act, and having to wait to file in after it finished. We stood at the entry doors, waiting for the act to complete. We were told to move back, so we all pushed to one side of the red carpet or the other.

The doors burst open, and people in costumes with large animated heads flooded into the hallway. The jingle of their bells and the dance in their steps prepared me for the rare and special treat I was about to experience in the rest of the show.

The music of the show was everything I expected from China. The beautiful mellow tones and strings. The flute and clarinet-like horn instrument. Throat singing was an unexpected and mysterious surprise. I sat in rapt wonder as the man before us created not only deep throaty notes with only his body, but high resonant ones at the same time. It was beautiful. If you haven't heard throat singing, here's a link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxK4pQgVvfg

It is beautiful.

At one point the music was so powerful, it not only created the vision of the Mongolian steeps with all the beautiful wild horses, but it brought tears to my eyes with it's beauty. I don't think I could have appreciated the music or the culture show as much if I hadn't spent two days out in a ger with the beauty and culture of the real Mongolia surrounding me.

Mongolian culture is as deep and beautiful as it's traditions and music that have survived through domination by Russia and China. The stubborn, proud, beautiful Mongolians have maintained superstitions as well as crafts and music through all their trials and labors.

A world where nomadic farmers, throat singers, and contortionists still survive, Cullen and I were treated to a beautiful visit that I will never forget. The magic and mystery that is Mongolia has touched me with a wonder and curiosity that won't soon die.

We had a fine dinner and went back to the guest house, ready for our early morning departure, but so very reluctant to leave our new friends and the mystery of Mongolia.

Wood and leather

Grumbles:

When we woke in the morning, just as when we laid down to rest, the old couple started talking. The woman woke and put more poo in the furnace then laid back down to badger the old man to get up and tend to the animals. We couldn't understand the conversation, but we are almost certain that he didn't want to get out of bed, and she was offering him loads of reasons that he needed to.

During the night, the fire had gotten cold. Emma had been sandwiched tightly between Teri and I at one point. I also remember Teri waking in the middle of the night and saying she couldn't sleep.

Teri: "Emma, I can't sleep."
Emma: "Well, what do you want me to do?"
Teri: "Sing me a song or something."

Then I fell back to sleep.

Sleeping on the floor was quite a painful experience. With sore backs and stiff joints, I got up reluctantly. The chill air was not helping my desire to emerge from the warm sleeping bag either.

Una appeared and started getting our breakfast foods out and ready for eating. Some bread and butter, sweet breakfast rolls of a sort, cheese, and some Nutella like substance made up the breakfast. It was fast and satisfying. As we enjoyed our morning repast, the old man came in and had a nice long drink from his bread-corked beer. With a quick smile and a nod, he recorked it and was back out into the pasture. We all filled ourselves and got ready for our morning horse ride. We all got out and started wandering about to loosen our joints and get a good look at the beautiful Mongolian landscape once again.

Mongolian horses:

The horses that the Mongolians use in their daily herding lives are about the size of Shetland ponies, and have very similar body structure. They have the short stocky legs and neck. Their heads are pretty large and they seem to maintain quite a bit of body fat. I'm sure all these attributes are adaptations from living in the harsh environment offered by the Mongolian steppes. The native wild horses were probably bred in a bit, creating this small sturdy horse.

Some of the guests in the other ger had already gone out for a quick ride, and we were waiting for them to get back. As I had only ridden a horse once, and it had been 14 years since my singular two hour horse ride, I was excited, but thankful that there would be some sort of guidance on the ride. The other riders came in, and we were all paired with a horse. Emma and I were put on horses that were held by the nomadic herder, and Teri and Cullen's horses were free to run about. Emma was in a wooden saddle where the rest of us were in simple saddles made from wire and a pad. They weren't entirely uncomfortable, but the extent of the ride made for some interesting bruises. Emma's saddle was most certainly less comfortable than the others. There wasn't really any give, so every jostle and bump had to have been an uncomfortable jarring.

We went to herd some sheep and goats up onto the hill. The Mongolian nomadic herder had Emma and I in tow. He rode us down into a ravine, and up the other side. Cullen followed as closely as he could, with is stubborn horse refusing to move at time. Teri refused to cross where we had, so she took her mare further down the ravine, finally crossing at a low point.

The sheep cooperated very well. They seemed to know exactly where to go. After a bit of maneuvering them, we headed up a hill for a very nice photo opportunity. The shot was beautiful, then we headed down to have some lunch. When we dismounted, only my knees really bothered me. To this day, the bruises on my bum are the worst reminders of this short ride.

So hard to say goodbye:

Una had started preparing our lunch while we were out. The lunch was a nice veggie stew with some canned beef thrown in. We sat a bit, smelling the stew and talking a bit about how spectacular it was to stay with the old couple. The ger was small, but it was amazing that they insisted on living off the land after all their years in the city. This type of living is the closest thing to old Native American nomadic life that I will ever experience, I'm certain. These are a proud and beautiful people with such a strong cultural background. Their lives are simple, yet they know the complexities of what living in the city can be.

As we sat eating lunch, the old man's son came home, and started talking with him. Una told us the old man was telling him stories about having us over. Teri, while we were there, had taken many photos of the old couple. He told his son that Teri had made a model, and taught him to say, "g'day mate" which he repeated almost perfectly. They truly enjoyed our stay with them. Despite our inability to communicate well, we still managed to get our adoration for their simple life and our respect for them across. We appreciated the opportunity to stay with them, and they seemed to know it, even if we were unable to tell them ourselves.

The old man had to go to town, so he made sure to tell us all good bye, and shake hands. We walked out of the ger and waved him away. He seemed to be very happy as he left.

Once we packed everything, it was time for us to go as well. We loaded up the van, and prepared ourselves. Before leaving, we all shook the woman's hand. She then went into the ger and retrieved a large spoon full of milk. Una explained that this was to wish us well, and to insure that good fortune followed us.

She scattered the milk into the wind as we drove away.

Wildlife preserved:

We were on our way to the Hustai National Park in Mongolia. This park is very close to Ulan Bator, and it contains the original reintroduced wild horse population in Mongolia. We were going to see some horses in the morning. For now, we were ready for some ATV van action again. The roads out to the park were the same type of Mongolian roads we had used to get to the old couple's ger. The terrain was long stalks of yellow grass and tumbleweed.

Once we reached the park, about an hour and a half later, we were invited to stay in the ger of one of the park rangers. The ger's resident, once he found Teri had quickly crashed in his bed, went to stay with friends in another ger. He was quite accommodating, and didn't seem to mind. The evening was quiet and we just talked with Una about her job, politics, and how she felt about foreginers for quite some time.

Una is a student of international relations studies. She aspires to work in the Mongolian Embassy for another country. She expressed her joy for taking foreigners out on the trips into the wilds of Mongolia. She has had quite a few bad experiences with guests who expected her to cater to their every whim and to work for them as if they owned her. She is a very modern and understanding woman. Though she has been on a few bad trips, she appreciates the stories and gets a great laugh out of them now. It was such a pleasure having Una as our guide. She didn't mind answering questions about Mongolian religion, politics, and even personal questions.

She cooked us a nice dinner once again, and we continued to chat for quite some time.

We were unable to get warm in the ger, so the ger resident brought some coal to burn during the night. It did warm the ger enough for us to finally cuddle in and get warm. There were three beds in the ger. Cullen and I took the guest bed, which is the first bed you come to when you enter a ger. It is directly to your right, which is the recommended direction of travel for guests in a ger. Emma took the bed directly opposite the door. Teri stayed nestled in the "woman's" bed. The "man's" bed is the guest bed or the bed in the guest area of the ger. There is always a "sacred" area in the ger, which is directly opposite the entry door, or can at least be seen from the entry door. You never put your feet toward this sacred area. Many Mongolians are Buddhist, and in Buddhism it is an insult to put the palms of your feet toward the Buddha.

With stacks of covers and sleeping bags on, we settled into our goat flavored air and were ready for a nice night of rest in the second ger of our trip.