Beijing Olympic Games

If anything, the opening ceremony of the 29th Olympic Games in Beijing was a blatant show of China's nigh-unlimited resource of human talent. If China were to build the Great Pyramids of Giza, they'd easily succeed. After years of imperialism - of being bullied and being looked down upon, China has finally had enough and is now unleashing its true potential.


Ok, so maybe I'm glossing over the nitty gritty details of China's human rights record - e.g. the pageant of 55 children dressed in traditional costumes of the officially recognized ethnic minorities of China over a backdrop of the government's efforts to decimate these minorities. But come on, a total of over 15000 performers - Wow!


As an aside, it was very interesting to watch the Parade of Nations. To me, it reflected the current political makeup of the world - specifically Korea fielding two separate teams, Taiwan walking under the banner of 'China Taipei' and Hong Kong having its own contingent.


In the distance, I spot the Malaysian flag and I sit up in anticipation. (Apparently, the countries are ordered according to the number of strokes in the first character of their names in simplified Chinese.) But my excitement is shortlived when I realize that the Malaysian contingent is dressed in baju Melayu and baju kurung of the royal golden-yellow hue.


I was in Malaysia just a few weeks ago and last I checked, it was still a multi-racial country. Athletes from other contingents were allowed to wear their own traditional costume. Take for example the Libyan contingent. If not, blazers are appropriate, not to mention smart. Look at the Singaporean contingent. Or even the hot Lithuanian team with their polo-tees and khaki shorts. Funny that. Come on, even a batik shirt with slacks would do better.


The last thing I want to do is to judge my own country with the standards of other countries. But when people assume that I've forsaken my homeland and ask me why I've adopted the British accent and lifestyle, this is why. Before you judge me, you might want to stop yourself to think - because maybe I care about my country more than you do.

Hot Lithuanians!

When

1. Passengers start unbuckling their seat belts immediately after landing despite the safety announcement telling them otherwise
2. You have to tell the two men in front of you off for cutting the queue

That's when you know you've arrived in Asia.

***

Transiting in Hong Kong feels weird after having stopped here for some time to teach English before continuing with my travels for the past two summers. I do miss it quite a bit. But no worries there, I'll be back here again before the end of summer.

***

It's weird. This feeling inside. I've lost all sense of belonging. Like I don't belong anywhere. I thought I'd be able to call Hong Kong my home after having spent more than twelve weeks here. But no.

Home in Kuala Lumpur isn't going to feel like home after what's just recently happened. It's a strange feeling this. Not very pleasant at all. But a bearable sort of unpleasantness. I've always thought being vagrant would be quite nice. Perhaps I was wrong?

Self-reflection II

This has been such an amazing summer for me. It's my first time backpacking alone in China. I've seen so many places, met so many people that although it's not what you'd call a life-changing experience, I've probably turned out all the better.


For one, I'm definitely stronger than I used to be in terms of making sure I don't get trodden on by other people. Being in dog-eat-dog China, you either fight to survive or you die with the rest of the mangy scoundrel.


I'm also more confident. I mean, backpacking in China on your own with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of its language is definitely an achievement. To this point, there's a sense of camaraderie between backpackers in China who strike up easy friendships due to the sharing of this experience between us.


Also, meeting this many people has opened up a whole new world or should I say, worlds of opportunity. I've heard so many amazing stories, of adventures just as, if not more fantastic than my own. I've heard how people have made their living travelling from one country to another and how they've started with just their one-way ticket out of their country tucked between the pages of their passport. If anything, I now know what I can do in the event my life doesn't turn out the way I want it.


To repeat what I've already said: This has been one epic adventure!

Self-reflection I

Reflections on China

Let's see if I can put this together coherently:

Backpacking in China for the past three months has definitely made me understand the Chinese to an extent. I do not claim to know them for that would take a lifetime but here's my two pence worth anyway.

Let's start with the 2007 Beijing Olympic Games because it's a good place to start and links up nicely to other points I'd like to make. Not to mention that fact that China is proclaiming it to the entire world at the top of her voice and its effects can be seen at every Chinese city.

Cities are being cleared and tidied up. Streets are being swept clean. Buildings renovated and given a shiny new coat of paint. City squares sport countdown timers to the opening night of the Olympic Games where grand extravagant celebrations are certainly being planned. And all around, television screens preview past Olympic Games events and current achievements by Chinese athletes whilst large posters of sponsored athletes hang from walls.

Public transportation is being smartened up to facilitate the expected millions of tourists in getting around. If it's one thing that's reliable and efficient in this country, it's their public transportation system - save the purchasing of train tickets considering how they don't seem to grasp the concept of a queue or buying tickets from other train stations.

The government seems to be putting in some effort in reeducating the Chinese on swearing, spitting and littering. I think it all boils down to egocentricity really. Being such a large country, it's not hard to imagine that All Under Heaven belong to them and they're still the centre of civilization surrounded by barbarians. Thus, they don't see the need to wait in line and the streets naturally belong to them. They just don't have that sense of civic mindedness.

To be fair though, it only happens in certain places: more so in less affluent cities, less so in Beijing (although it still does happen - bloody Chinese tried to cut the queue at the subway station ticket counter). I think this is a reflection of the wide gap between the rich and poor which is also a reflection on education opportunities since only the first ten years of education are free. And when I say there's a wide difference, I do mean wide. That said, China is way to large and it will definitely take some time before it resolves this.

All in all, you can find just about anyone in China, with its own terrorists and queue-cutters, you also find friendly and kind people. It's all a matter of breaking through that barrier they seem to have built around themselves like some sort of protective mechanism. They are just simply an exasperating bunch.

Destination

The scene is just like any other: a meat market. The entry is relatively cheap. So are the drinks. The bar attendants are generous with the alcohol. The music is shite but there's no lack of dancers on the floor at least. The strobe lights make up for it. A subtle approach and a delectable neck.

Tsinghua University

Tsinghua University is like a city in itself. Cut off from the city by walls guarded by sentries at gates, the university bustles with university staff and students cycling along the roads from lecture halls back to their accommodations.


The newly constructed buildings contrast sharply with the old European-style buildings: remnants of the Old Summer Palace. The Little Forbidden Palace becomes the abode of the university's Master, its two giant lion statues guard the two red wooden doors.

Beijing National Stadium

The cars stir up the dust. Cycling in Beijing is an entirely different experience compared to cycling in other cities such as Yangshuo or Xi'an. Here in this affluent capital, everyone thinks their fathers own the road: lorry drivers, car drivers, motorcyclists, cyclists and even pedestrians.


Beijing says she's nearly ready for the Olympic Games but it's hard to see it from here. The dust of construction work covers the road so that it becomes a mere dust trail. It covers cars parked nearby till they actually appear brown. Flashes of bright white light can be seen in the distance from the bird's nest where workers weld the entire mess of metal together. In less than a year's time, it's hard to imagine it as the green park it claims itself to be.

Chairman Mao's Mausoleum

The queue coils around the mausoleum. People shuffle around the mausoleum like they do in Mecca. Touch the railings like Muslims touch the Kaaba. The sun sends down its scorching heat upon them. Yet they persevere in their quest to see the great chairman. As he moves steadily forwards along the queue, he focuses his thoughts and meditates in silence like so many others: on the greatness of Chairman Mao who championed the rights of the common people. On the atrocity of Chairman Mao who killed 1.5 million people during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.


People buy Chrysanthemums, the national flower, to place them at the feet of Mao's statue. Up the grand terrace stairs and great doors, the conflict rages on. The large reception hall gives way to a small dimly lit room with the glass coffin containing Mao's embalmed body, wearing his usual favourite outfit and covered with the national flag.

In this light, Mao looks anything but alive with his puffy blown-up face and more than real skin colour. I knows he's dead. But he doesn't even look like he's ever been alive. Maybe it's the wax statue of Mao instead. Or maybe all preserved bodies look like that.


He's not given time to study it. The line moves forward as fast as it did coming in. To facilitate the millions who've come to pay their respects of to prevent any terrorists crazy enough to bomb the place up. He's very lucky though to be able to see the place considering that the mausoleum opens for only one day before renovation work continues.

Da Zha Lan Hutong

Jing Shan Park II

The sun blazes powerfully in the clear sky. The skin on the nape of his neck and his back tingles in anticipation of being burnt again. Having been burnt twice this summer, it probably has become more sensitive. The golden roofs of the Forbidden City brilliantly reflect the light of the sun. Set against a backdrop of blue sky, the contrast is almost dazzlingly blinding.


Row upon row of halls along the central axis. Row upon row of courtyards in the eastern and western axes proclaim the majesty and sovereignty of the emperor. It's not hard to believe that the emperor might just be the Son of Heaven. Especially when his palace is made of pure gold and shines just as bright as the sun.

Tian An Men Square II

The sky is as blue as when it greeted him on his first day in Beijing. Instead of heading straight to his hostel, he makes his way from the subway station through Tian An Men Square to the flagpole for the flag-raising ceremony. It's five in the morning, yet hundreds of people are already gathered around the pole. Between the heads, he catches sight of the soldiers marching sharply in their smart berets. The national anthem comes on proudly and the flag is promptly raised.

Tai Shan

Tai Shan is overrun by university students. They swarm the entire path in droves from the foot of the mountain all the way to Zhong Tian Men. There must be a million students in total. Easily. The whole university must've joined the trip.


They move aside and make way for him as he climbs the mountain at a quick pace. They stare at him as if they've never seen a topless Chinese boy hiking up a mountain before. He glares back at them and spots a pair of boys holding hands while walking down. That's the fourth openly gay couple he's seen in China thus far. David says it's not illegal and they don't get persecuted for it. Lucky bastards.


Passing beneath Zhong Tian Men, he reaches a Taoist temple where a monk offers him a free joss stick. He lights it like he once did a very very long time ago, back when father used to take the whole family to the local temple every week to pray. He stands respectively before the temple and holds out the smoking joss stick. Places it into the urn for protection as he ascends the mountain.



Tai Shan isn't out of the ordinary. At 1000 metres, it's not even tall. The scenery along the climb up is frightfully dull although the droves of students might have been something to do with this. Its cultural and historical significance is lost on him because he can't read Chinese. And the place is as touristy as any low mountain can be. Temples concentrate on selling idols and all sorts of worshipping paraphernalia whilst stalls line the entire way up selling food and water and souvenirs.


That said however, the climb is worth is just to see the mountainside at the peak in spectacular shades of brown, red, orange and yellow patches amidst the green stretches of unturned leaves. It's not hard to imagine the mountain all ablaze in fiery colours as September deepens and winter arrives.


At the bus station, a man tries to cut the queue just in front of the ticket counter. He's getting used to it by now. As planned, he tells him off, 'Hey! There's a queue!' His voice comes out much louder than he intended causing the man to jump and the lady buying tickets at the counter to jump too. The ticket lady pokes her head out of the counter and the man steps back. He tries to save face by telling him that he was going to let him get his ticket first anyway. Pffft! Yeah, right.

Dai Miao

A curiously-shaped rock stands in the courtyard of the Hall of Heavenly Gifts. Legend has it that whoever circles the rock three times clockwise and three times anticlockwise with eyes shut before trying to touch the fissure on the Cypress of Loyalty just a short distance north of the stone will have luck.


Thinking carefully, he puts down his bag on the north side of the rock. Takes of his shoes and socks and places them with his bag. It should be easier to feel the ground with his feet than the rock with his hands. The ground has less distractions than the rock.


He manages to circle the rock three times, both clockwise and anticlockwise. He makes sure he's where his bag is at, aligns himself to the rock and starts walking slowly north. It should take him 18 steps with the crevice at arm's height. He's checked. Raises his arm parallel to the floor. But misses by roughly five minutes anticlockwise. It was very close.


An old lady sitting nearby and observing him asks him which university does he go to, to which he nonchalantly replied, '劍橋.'

Qufu II

He tries to catch a Confucian performance but is too late. Instead, he joins a group of elderly ladies doing small hand exercises across the road while their grandchildren run around distractingly.

People walk the streets at night. Mill about the city moat. He could just be seeing what he wants to see but the family unit seems stronger here. Everywhere, three generations can be seen together: grandparents, parents and children. It's a comforting sight.

He stumbles upon a market selling pretty much the same thing as stalls do during the day along the eastern wall of the temple. There are some food stalls too but disinterested, he heads back to the hostel. There, he spends the rest of the night chatting with the staff.

Confucian Clan Cemetery

The path from the north gate to the cemetery is lined again with stately junipers on both sides. 73 on the right representing Confucius' age when he passed away, 72 on the left representing the number of his disciples. Halfway through, he passes under the Everlasting Green Archway.


Beyond the cemetery gate is a lively market with stalls selling all sorts of curios, mementos and souvenirs. The noise gradually fades away as he enters deeper and deeper into the forest.


Here, it is quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are the wind rustling through the leaves and the crickets searching for a mate. Here and there, tombstones stand decrepitly amidst the trees of the forest, the trails leading up to them lost in the undergrowth.


Before the palace of Xiang stand four pair of stone statues. Guardians and protectors of tombs. The Wangzhong stand solemnly with a knowing smile on their cold hard lips, guarding the secret of death which everyone eventually come to know.


He approaches the huge tombstone slowly. Its yellow characters are telling. The tombstone is fit for a king. But the emperor is cleverly hidden, partially by the altar. To save face, we Chinese call it.


He stands in silence for a few minutes. Respect. Meditating on the inscription and allowing it to form understandable pictures in his head. He clicks his feet together sharply and gives a sharp bow. Reverence. To a great thinker whose thoughts still permeate today's Chinese society.


This is why we have names that appropriately distinguish our paternal relatives from our maternal ones. Two thousand years since his passing, we still sweep the graves of our grandparents during Qing Ming. And even till today, we rush back to our homes and families for family reunion dinners on New Year's Eve. Two thousand years later, his teachings and words can still be felt in the ordinary Chinese family.