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Leaving the already-warm day, we went through the
routine of purchasing our fares and descending to the platform. This
time, though, we were going the opposite direction on the circle
line, and went through five stops to Xizhimen Station. We looked at
taking #13 from the North Beijing train station, but instead
followed the LP guide and sought out bus #332. There was much
development along Xizhimenwai Dajie, where we were to catch the bus
in front of the zoo. We could have gone to the zoo, but the entrance
was not apparent. We wanted to see the Summer Palace, anyway. Seeing
the desired bus, we easily ran alongside it in the heavy traffic
until it found a safe place to pull over and stop. Paying a fare of
1 ¥ ($0.12USD) apiece, we rode it to the end of the line, the
turnaround in front of the Summer Palace entrance.
The entrance fee was 30 ¥ ($3.60) per person,
followed by lots of walking, most of it apparently uphill. The
temples, gardens, lake, bridge, all aspects of the park were so
delightful and most relaxing. Besides all of the well-crafted
beauty, we paid and additional 10 ¥ ($1.20USD) fee to enter the
Tower of the Fragrance of Buddha. It, too, was extremely artistic
and meaningful. Unfortunately, our late start and inadequate
nourishment gave more meaning to shortening our visit so that we
could find a restaurant for an evening meal.
Other problems were starting to surface as well.
Katarena was suffering from heat exhaustion, and complained
miserably about the lack of Western-style toilets. “I really hate
those squat slots. I just feel horrible using them.” and she
dissolved into a flood of tears. I consoled her, assuring her that
we would eat soon, and that a squat slot in the restaurant would
likely be better due to public heath regulations.
“Besides,” I questioned her, “how are the squat slots
any different from when we've gone camping and there were no toilets
available then?”
She improved some, and as we left this masterpiece
blend of outdoors and indoors, she perked up and help search for a
restaurant while we returned toward the metro station on bus #332.
Slowly moving alongside a mixed development site, we saw a Mongolian
barbecue set-up, and exited the bus as soon as possible. Walking
back toward the food stall, we found a computer/electronics store
that interested Enrique, but nutritional need ruled out stopping. In
the restaurant, I devoured the greens because it was too spicy for
them, Katarena enjoyed piles of rice, and Enrique went hungry
because he wouldn't eat that either, due to something he
hates—egg—were mixed into it. His intellectual food was incomplete,
too, for, when we went to his favorite store after eating, only to
find it was closing. Then all of us had to rush to catch our bus—the
bright sky had become threateningly dark. As we boarded, it broke
open, with a heavy, soaking rain which limited sight.
When we got off the bus in less rainfall, there was
an ample amount of motor traffic, but also more bicycles than usual.
There were primarily working cycles, usually heavily laden with
wood, ducks/birds, animal products, trash, and, occasionally, other
humans. One bike was so covered with industrial materials that
nothing could be seen except a long chain hanging so far below as to
nearly be touching the ground. Once we had gotten to the front of
it, we saw a wee man pushing the pedals. Of course, he was smoking,
the fag hanging from one side of his mouth.
Retracing our steps was easy, but we made another
stop on Stadium Worker's Road, this time at KFC. Enrique had been
quite a trooper, but he was feeling faint and desperately needed
chow. Katarena wanted additional food, too, and, heck, why not, I
ate as well. With our bellies full, we contentedly returned to the
hostel, where many of our fellow GWAC hikers were sitting in the
dining area, watching a DVD. (It was undoubtedly recently purchased,
as virtually everytime we ventured out onto the streets, independent
business men constantly approached us, saying “DVD! 9-11! DVD!
9-11!”) We attempted to watch, but the few smokers had so polluted
the air in that ventless room that we had to get out. Just as well;
we needed to shower and clean our clothes anyway, besides giving our
bodies more required recuperation, especially since we had to be up
to catch an airplane to Xi'an tomorrow morning.
We awoke early, around (05:00), and excitedly
prepared for our trip to see the renowned Army of Terracotta
Warriors. We took an amazingly cheap taxi to the Beijing
International Airport by (06:30). Our domestic flight #1203 aboard
China Eastern Airlines was to depart at (07:30). It was the first
time I'd ever seen a toll placed on all departing passengers, but we
paid 50 ¥ ($6USD) apiece for the index card-sized coupon, emblazoned
with the silhouette of a jet and the reason (in English): CAAC
(Civil Aviation Administration of China) AIRPORT MANAGEMENT AND
CONSTRUCTION FEE. This was our first restriction to overcome when
flying out, then next was the x-ray and passport check/ inspection
gates for ourselves and baggage (of which we had none) before
entering a secure concourse, and the last, naturally, was obtaining
our boarding pass at gate 14 after showing our valid ticket. Like
all passenger tickets world-wide, it was a multi-page NCR
checkbook-shaped document showing vital information such as the
ticket holder's name, carrier, airports of origination and
destination, date, time, flight#, seller, class, various codes that
have meaning only to a few people who can decipher them, and, most
importantly, the price. I saw the dominance of the English language
as every bit of the fine print was in both Chinese and
English. We were soon taking three seats in row 4 aboard an Airbus
320-214 for our two-hour hop to Xi'an.
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