A Canadian in Beijing: Being a Tourist at the Summer Palace

by Ember Swift on

I’ve been here for six weeks now and I’ve barely been a tourist. I’ve never been much of a tourist, really, seeing as most of my travelling has been related to my music (i.e. work), but I did imagine that I would do more “tourist-y” things while here in Beijing than I have. That dawned on me this week when I realized that I am half-way through my trip and I have yet to take the bus just ten minutes down the road to check out a major tourist attraction and historic landmark:

The Summer Palace (Yi He Yuan Gong Yuan)

Today, my friend David and I hopped the #726 bus from outside of the university and we headed for the site with cameras in hand. I slathered on the sunscreen (despite the hazy skies) and we geared up to be tourists for once, agreeing to rent the self-guided tour headsets and buy the tourist guides. I even declared that this would be the first occasion that I would buy postcards from the relentless vendors. And so I did. (Successfully bargaining down from 20 kuai to 5 kuai for a package of 10, I might add!)

When we got to the site, it began to rain. It didn’t last long, however, and the freshness in the air combined with the expanse of green (and therefore, oxygen) that surrounds this gorgeous landmark made the air feel light in my lungs. I breathed deeply. Even with the slight chill in the air, I was certain that a bit of cool rain was going to be good for my health.

We bought our tickets, maps and rented our headsets and then started the tour by following our noses, almost ignoring the maps altogether. We went through the east gates and turned right first, finding ourselves walking through beautiful gardens and mounting the “Longevity Hill.” This took us up to a beautiful pagoda that overlooked the grounds. Here, we could see the Kunming Lake and the tips of several other ornate pagodas and towers.

The headsets were configured to sense where you were and then provide a brief history lesson about your surroundings while you’re there. The contraption dangled around our necks like backstage passes and the headset fit on one ear. I felt like a security staff person or something and we laughed at the fact that our sensors were spaced differently so that suddenly mine would start talking when Dave’s hadn’t registered yet. It made for some awkward conversation stoppers. I’d have to interrupt what he was saying with: “oops, uh, someone’s talkin’ in my ear again! Sorry!” and then try to concentrate on what was being said.

We found that most of the content of this self-guided tour was replicated on the signs which were written in both English and Chinese. Still, I didn’t mind the storytelling. For just $40 kuai (less than $6 Canadian), I got the luxury of not having to push my way to the front of the crowd to read every sign.

One of the most magnificent structures was the “Tower of the Fragrance of the Buddha” which stretches 41 metres high and is a three-storied octagonal building with four tiers of eaves. The headsets told us that successfully ascending the one-hundred steps leading up to the tower would represent a long life of at least one-hundred years. Since we had come upon this tower from the opposite side, I wondered if descending these steps would have the opposite effect. Let’s hope not!

We walked down them and eventually found ourselves next to the water’s edge and the “Long Corridor.” This is a raised, covered walkway that enabled the Emperor and then the Empress Dowager to walk along the lake without risking the elements. It stretches 728 metres long with 14,000 pictures painted on its ceiling. They are magnificent pictures full of exquisite detail and intricate designs. It is known as the longest painted gallery in the world.

Of course we followed this corridor to its end where we found the stone “boat” pavilion, a structure that was used for leisure and entertainment purposes that looks like a boat but is made entirely of marble and stone — definitely not gearing to float away anytime soon! Behind this ironic relic, we decided to cross over the water by the stone bridge to find out what was on the other side.

What stretched before us then were some of the most beautiful trees I have seen in a long time, the oldest willow and mulberry trees in the Beijing area. The willows were first planted during Qian Long’s reign (1735-1796) and nineteen of these trees still remain. I was touched to see evidence of preservation efforts; a crew was working on one tree while we passed and some of the other trees were propped up with permanent braces as though their age had crippled them and they need canes to stand upright. It struck me as a merciful sight.

On either side of this stone walkway were waterways that were breathtaking. Small inlets with lotus flowers on the right-side or the wide expanse of the Kunming Lake stretching back towards the palace buildings on the left. Small bridges with intricate stone carvings and wide steps. Everything was so beautiful that it was hard not to photograph something new with every step.

It was about here that I started to get really tired. We had walked endlessly and the beauty was remarkable, but I was losing my ability to concentrate and take any more in. We hopped in a boat that took (weary) people across the lake rather than having to walk around and then we checked out just a few more buildings that we’d missed in the beginning before returning our headsets and heading home.

One of the last buildings we entered was one that housed an old car that was bought for the Empress Dowager and is purported to be an early Benz. It was surrounded by four rickshaws and on display behind iron bars. On the other side of this room were several personal items of the Empress Dowager’s including her famous portrait and a few pianos and pieces of furniture.

Two young girls on either side of these displays stood in period costumes including (what appeared to be) extremely uncomfortable high-heeled shoes. They had wide headdresses and looked gorgeous in their outfits, but their eyes were tired and bored and I wanted to take them by the hand and lead them out of there. What a job to have to stand there and be beautiful all day, smiling for photographs and pacing slowly behind iron bars! Of course, I didn’t take their pictures. I smiled at them with a look of sympathy and I received a flash of appreciation from one of the girls, as though she registered my meaning. I wish I’d had something to offer them, but all I could give them was my shy retreat and the silent respect of a lowered camera lens.

When we hopped in a cab for “home,” I was ready for a long nap – being a tourist is exhausting! I highly recommend seeing this landmark, though, because it felt like a moment of countryside in the middle of a bustling city. It’s wonderful that Beijing has preserved such a stunning site. The Summer Palace should definitely be on your list of places to see if you’re passing through Beijing.


(This is us posing before the famous statue of the Bronz Ox, said to be the controller of floods. It was cast during Qian Long’s reign, 1735-1796.)

Buddha Day: Birth, Death and Enlightenment

by Jamie Rhein on

If you missed Chinese New Year and the celebrations that go along with it, there are more opportunities. Buddha Day, also called Vesak Day, falls on the full moon in May. This is a time where Buddhists honor everything Buddha-his birth, death and enlightenment. When exactly events are happening is sketchy. Dates I found are scattered throughout May

You could do some temple hopping to see what’s being celebrated. Finding out exactly when that day isn’t the easiest thing. In Singapore, Chinatown will be lit up with lights starting May 19 and there’s a parade on the 30th. On May 31st head to Lian Shan Shuang Lin Temple in Toa Payoh or Kong Meng San Phor Kark See Temple on Bright Hill Road. According to the Singapore site I found Vesak Day is the 31st.

In Seoul, Korea, Buddha’s birthday is part of the Lotus Lantern Festival that starts today and goes until the 20th. The actual birthday is listed on the 24th. Head to Jogyesa Temple and Jongo. The Parade of Lanterns in the evening is a highlight. In addition to the parade, the festival has lantern making workshops, food, music, dancing. Here is a slide show that’s pretty cool. It’s one of those inspirational types with quotes and photos of festival activities.

In Taiwan, you could head to Dharma Drum Mountain. This is a Buddhist center in Taipei County with events going on every weekend. Everyone’s welcome. This is more of a ceremonial place but it might be interesting. The Web site explains symbolism associated with this day and has photographs of various happenings.

A Canadian in Beijing: The Inevitability of Karaoke

by Ember Swift on

I really don’t enjoy karaoke. I’m sure it comes from the fact that it had a peak of popularity in North America during my high school years – a time that I don’t often enjoy recollecting!

I started to perform live when I was ten and so all of my classmates knew that I had a “nice voice” and I was often cajoled and dragged and/or berated into singing at various parties and school events. Usually, the songs were cheesy love songs with bad keyboard sounds and wind chimes. Whitney Houston was a favourite, I recall, as was “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers.

When I hear the word “karaoke,” I feel a rush of an ancient mortification being unearthed in my body.

I remember being worried that the pitch would be wrong for my voice or the words hard to see on the screen. I can see my classmates looking at me expectantly and remember feeling impossibly shy without a guitar or my own songs to sing, fearing letting everyone down. . . and then missing the opening line of the song because of all the over-thinking I was doing. I was a typical teenager and typically awkward in those settings.

Eventually, I started to hate karaoke and when I was solicited to sing, I would root my feet firmly where I stood and refuse to go up and sing “other people’s songs” as though this were an affront to my artistry. In all honesty, I was scared to death. I built that whole phoney stance around my fears. I suppose this is a human response, but being here in Beijing has forced me to acknowledge it.

Because really, karaoke isn’t that evil.

The psychological effects of karaoke aside (!), it was inevitable that I would have to face my fears here in China. Singing is very related to partying here. There is often a karaoke option in clubs or restaurants and people are just accustomed to getting up and singing after they’ve enjoyed a meal and had a few drinks. It’s a cultural experience, shall we say.

In fact, when I discuss my DVD with people here, I have to explain that it is not a karaoke DVD. Videos here are most commonly karaoke videos (with the lyrics running across the bottom of the screen) and many homes have microphone attachments to their VCRs so that friends and family can sing along to the videos being played on the screen. It is popular, to say the least.

On Wednesday night, I was invited to a party by my friend Zou Rui. She is a professional singer and she has a beautiful voice and several karaoke DVDs. She truly does have an incredible voice. It’s one of the loveliest voices I have heard in a long time.

She was invited to this party by her teacher, a singing coach, who also works for the government. When I arrived, I noticed that we were two of only five women in a room of over fifty people (not counting the waitresses.) I was the only foreigner and everyone came over to greet me and clinked my glass to say hello (in English) and toast my arrival. I was drinking juice, which was a good thing, because it was regularly being emptied with every greeting; had it been beer, I would have been drunk within twenty minutes!

We then sat down to eat and the food was fantastic. Yet another example of the hot pot, but in this case each person had their own “cook station” which meant that I could be comfortably and independently vegan at this table. I enjoyed every bite but was amazed by the amount of food that was not eaten. So much waste! To compensate, I ate more than my fill and felt grateful to have been invited to join in.

After the meal, the karaoke machine started to hum, the t.v. monitors lit up and Zou Rui got up to start the entertainment. She sang a few songs to everyone’s great delight and mine included. Turns out that she knew she was supposed sing and she encouraged others to get up with her and do various duets of famous Chinese songs. The men at the party didn’t need much encouragement and they lined up to sing with her. She also sang “I Will Always Love You” by Dolly Parton (but made especially famous by Whitney Houston, of course) and I was once again rocketed back to my high school awkwardness.

Right on that cue, she grabbed my elbow and said “lai, lai” (“come, come”) and pulled me up on the stage. The whole place turned to see what this foreign girl would do. Zou Rui had chosen one of the few English songs in the repertoire of titles available and suddenly the opening chords of “Hey Jude” by the Beatles began. She sang the first verse and in the pause, she introduced me to the audience in Chinese as “a very famous singer from Canada” and motioned that I ought to start singing the second verse.

ACK! My throat tightened and I was sure that I was going to vomit right there.

I had the microphone in front of my face but I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when I opened my mouth. Not only was I supposed to sing “Hey Jude” (a song that I don’t know very well – thank goodness for words on the screen!) but now I was supposed to demonstrate my “very famous” singing voice!

I opened my mouth tentatively and, thankfully, the notes came. My body bailed me out. By the first chorus, I was actually smiling and singing at full volume along with Zou Rui. By the second chorus, we were harmonizing. By the end of the song, they were on their feet and cheering.

So karaoke isn’t so bad. I can handle it.

Next time, however, I think I’ll have a drink first!

A Canadian in Beijing: Naked Baby Bums Everywhere!

by Ember Swift on

I wonder how babies in China feel in the wintertime. I mean, they must experience some severe crotch frost considering the built-in air-conditioning their clothing has! This no-nonsense approach to raising not-yet-potty-trained children has me both baffled and amused.

Here in China, children under the age of approximately 4 years old wear pants that are crotchless. In other words, their pants do not have any crotch, just an open space where the crotch should be. At a Pride Day parade, this style would be called “chaps”! Here in China, they’re just regular kids’ clothes.

Basically, when the child has to go to the bathroom, they are taught to squat wherever they are. This can sometimes happen on the sidewalk or on the grass, but it also happens on public transport or in shopping centres.

How does a society deal with that?

Mops. Lots of mops.

This phenomenon further stresses the fact that sitting on the grass or the sidewalk here in China is an absolutely disgusting proposition. Any number of children could have urinated or defecated there. Top that off with the spitting, the rubbish and overall dirt that is generated by 14 million people and you have yourself an extremely unsanitary seat.

The more I see this happen here in China, the less often I have found myself sitting on the ground. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever sit on the ground again after three months in Beijing. It may have scarred me for life! (C’mon, a little drama never hurt!)

I finally got up the courage to ask about this ‘crotchlessness.’ The moment came when we were in class and discussing what things we found to be “qi guai” or “strange” here in China compared with our home countries. My teacher laughed out loud when we all started to comment on this phenomenon and then she covered her mouth shyly with her hand as she explained and then laughed some more. She said that she once asked a mother whether or not her children were cold in the wintertime and the mother’s response had been that this section of the body is hot enough on its own and so the missing fabric is “mei wenti” (no worries).

Really? I don’t buy it. I know it’s hot down there, but is it hot enough to keep those bits from frostbite? I don’t think so. Of course, I am a Canadian here and I have heard that Beijing winters are not as cold as Canadian winters. Hmmm. Wo bu zhi dao (I don’t know). I’m shrugging my shoulders here.

(I’ve since found that lots has been written about this. Here’s a really cute picture.)

Now, besides the so-called functionality of this clothing design, I have to admit that it’s really cute. When a child is being held either on its mother’s back or in her arms, the child’s legs are bent around her and all you see is his or her little bottom. Everywhere I go, I get glimpses of naked baby bums and I smile every time. How can you not? So perhaps that’s part of the function: kids’ clothing that make the foreigners smile.

When I was on the subway heading downtown one day, a small child of about 2 was sitting on the lap of the woman across from me. He was fussing and irritable and so she took him off her lap and stood him between her legs to steady him as the train rumbled along. He continued to whine and wriggle, wanting to get out from the jail cell that had been created by her knees, but unable to breach her legs for any free space since the train was fairly crowded.

Suddenly, he bent into the squatting position and peed. His mother lifted her feet slightly so that she wouldn’t step in his urine and then threw a tissue at the small puddle and let it soak up the urine before kicking the sopping tissue under the seat with the sole of her shoe.

It was my first experience watching a child pee on public transport and I was amazed. I’m sure my eyes were the size of small dinner plates because she looked right at me with a “haven’t-you-seen-this-before?” expression on her face that was mixed with a sort of diffidence that made me lower my gaze. I don’t want my amazement to translate into judgment and so I spent the rest of the trip looking out the window.

About a week later, I was standing on the street and I saw a small child being led to one of the small saplings that line the road. His mother opened the gap in his pants and positioned his body to urinate and then waited until he had emptied his little bladder under the city tree. I watched this with great amusement.

Later that same day, I was riding my bike back home and it was late in the evening when the twilight can trick your eyes with its dim shadows. I saw a small girl of about 5 years old step into the street a good block ahead of me as I was leisurely pedalling along. She lifted up her skirt and crouched down and I wondered if she was looking for something in the gutter. Seconds later, I watched her hop back up onto the curb and disappear into a building and when I arrived at the spot where she had been, I discovered only a damp patch of asphalt that I had to swerve to avoid.

It seems to me that even as kids grow a bit older, it’s still OK for them to urinate (and what about #2?) on public streets. I wonder how common this is or if I just saw a rare moment here.

Either way, at least it saves on paper and non-biodegradable diapers. That’s a huge something!

Now if we could only tackle the smell …

Photo of the Day (5/16/07)

by Adrienne Wilson on


Here is a shot that wins my vote as it does not scream location. I’m guessing it’s the photographer’s secret hideout in Asia somewhere similar to Batman’s bat cave except there are beautiful sunflowers on the exterior and only a bicycle to go out and catch evil villains. Or maybe flyingtiger uses the bike only to check out a current movie playing or to go on a photo safari in Hutong.