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A Winter in winter

5 days in Beijing seemed longer, longer than the mind can construe the idea of being in such coldness. The snow had fallen already without a scene but it's still bitterly freezing in the open, with annoying bites felt deep inside the finger-bones and toes. Laughter seemed coming from the heating chemicals stuck on the girls' back, or the steam from food we constantly desired.

Stepping on the Wall (from another pass) or inside the Forbidden City again (after a decade) seemed an unconscious self-destruction act by memory. The murderers: rollercoaster-like climbing vehicles (were we in Disneyland?) and, again, Starbucks (no, the sight of those colourful toilets were only next). Were there too many packaging or too less, Mr. Creative Industries? Lacking "aesthetics' consideration", in our passionate leader's term, the richest content could become merely a face, well represented by the "Hero Plate" where the giant was once, and where the tourists crowded.

There was surprise, also from the cold, and another warm. The frozen Kunming Lake (pic 2) was more than a spectacular historic site in winter, where feet dreamed like ships on a 300-hectare white. On the last day behind the chic at Houhai (Back Lake), we met Liu, a 64-y/o guide (pic 1), who lived in the hutong and competed humbly hard with other corporatized tri-cyclists. He did not have a brandname on his torn overcoat, but on his hand that pulled the blanket tight on us when it dropped, and his Mandarin which told stories from the tone but words, and his hospitality which put sweet mandarins into our bags... and his smile.

posted at 8:07 PM | View by Post