Into the Forbidden City

By 6:00 a.m., all four of us were dressed and ready. Breakfast at the hotel doesn't start until 6:30, so we decided to take a walk around our tiny piece of this huge city. Once again, we were surprised at how quiet the streets in Beijing can be. Our hotel is situated on one of the town's main drags, but there were probably only five or six cars on our block at one time. 

We walked most of the way around our block, and then decided to take a shortcut down a gray, winding alleyway which passes between a couple of 'hutongs,' which are ancient, walled neighborhoods whose wooden gates conceal a network of cobblestoned warrens, whose streets contain contain countless right angles originally designed to confound the evil spirits who, according to legend, can only travel in straight lines. By the time we stumbled back onto the sidewalk, the traffic had picked up considerably; Beijingers seem to go to work at exactly the same time.

We returned, and took advantage of the food at the hotel's 'free' breakfast buffet. We didn't just partake. We took advantage. Like a whale takes advantage of krill, like a Dyson takes advantage of dust. Like a lonely sailor... well, you get the picture. Pak had two two omlettes, a three dumplings, two links of sausage, 6 pieces of bacon, a cup of coffee, two glasses of juice and a plate and a half of various goodies. Chien, whose tank is considerably smaller, also filled up. Kori and I didn't starve either. We would soon put all of that food to good use.

After returning to our room, we called our families, posted to the blog and set out for a walk. We didn't know it then, but we would decide after a half hour or so to spend the rest of the morning at the Forbidden City, a vast compound which served as the personal residence and imperial headquarters for two Chinese dynasties. After almost getting taken for a ride by a crooked pedicab hawker who at the last minute changed the price from Yuan to Dollars (thus multiplying the cost by 8) and who tried to demand that we take an unscheduled tour not included in the previously negotiated (and then disregarded) price, we found the huge South Gate entrance and proceeded toward the ticket line.

We were intercepted by a young woman with bad teeth, but excellent English, who offered her services as our guide. We accepted her offer and began the tour. The Forbidden City is both fascinating and appalling. Fascinating, because the place took 20 years and more than 1 million workers to build. It's a masterpiece of architecture and engineering; each and every brick and beam were laid with purpose, usually to fulfill some geomancer's secret symbolic or spiritual criterion. Appalling, because there is literally a Starbucks inside the complex, attached to the gift shop. Don't worry, I apologized on America's behalf. Our guide laughed. I apologized again, this time more earnestly. She shifted her gaze uncomfortably and said, "It's okay. We are not politicians." I offered to buy her a coffee, and she reminded me, "It's okay. Most Chinese people do not like coffee." Sigh.

After a couple hours of touring, the kids were exhausted. We hurried our guide through the last section of the city, thanked her and paid our tab. With about a mile and a half left to walk, Pak decided that he couldn't take another step. Underestimating the distance to the hotel and Pak's newly augmented weight, Kori and I agreed to take turns carrying him. When we finally arrived back at our room, Pak was almost in tears. We checked his temperature -- he was running a fever of 101.5. We gave him some Motrin and put him to bed. 

Within 30 or 40 minutes, the medicine had kicked in, and Pak was ready to play. I decided to take the kids to the hotel's pool and let Kori rest. The pool attendants made us buy some dippy-looking swimming caps before letting us enter. Chien nailed it when he commented, "We look like complete dorks, don't we, Dad?" "Yes, son. Yes we do." The pool was okay -- wet, but nothing special. The boys liked it. I felt uncomfortable. Everyone stared at us. Maybe they were mesmerized by the blinding reflection of the fluorescent bulbs on my pasty white hide. Perhaps they were intrigued by the fact that I had more body hair than the entire male staff of the hotel combined. Most likely, they couldn't figure out what to make of the creepy white guy with the two asian kids in the non-skin-tight (very un-Asian, I'll tell you) swimsuits.

We're now back in our room, It's 5:30p.m., and I'm the only one awake. No plans for dinner yet, we'll probably play it by ear.