|
My heart soared upon hearing his words. I forgot how tired I was
when I profusely thanked him, with lots of “eh”, and literally
skipped over to the aforementioned door. Entering that small room, I
found a man seated at a table with a neatly printed cardboard sign
taped to it: “Mongolian Tickets Here”. I was elated! This is exactly
what I had planned! My high spirits didn't last, though, when the
agent saw me and said “None left. Sold out. It is possible to take a
longer journey to Hohhot and enter the country on a mini-bus, for a
still longer trip to UB. Yes, it is possible, but more difficult.”
Crestfallen, I asked about next week's train.
“Next week? This is for the next two months!” he
replied. ”Everybody travels in Summer, when the weather is best, and
the numbers double for Independence Day festivities in Ulaan Bataar
during July.”
I immediately became dispirited as my heart sank with
this news, and trudged back through the lounge, the Grand Hall, and
outside into the Sunny day. I was so absorbed in thought about how
to overcome this obstacle when I realized that I was back in front
of the Great Dragon hotel. Had I gotten so used to the route that,
after only two trips on it, I could do it subconsciously? No matter,
I went around the hotel to the Zhaolong Hostel, checked in, and
joined my children in sleep, albeit I was most disturbed.
When we arose a short time later, it was twilight and
we went out for a bite to eat. In fact, we specifically went out for
Beijing Duck We didn't have to go far, but we did have to cross
under the third ring road, an extremely hazardous proposition, made
even more so by the darkness. There must be a rule about vehicles on
the road not turning on any kind of lights until it is pitch black
out!
We found the Jingxin Quanjude Roast Duck Restaurant,
A2 Dongsanhuan Beilu, and we spent an hour enjoying a fine
multi-course meal, with the duck being the tastiest I've ever eaten.
(Not that I've ever eaten much in the first place!) Afterwards, and
safely back across that trafficked road, now marginally better
because headlights and taillights were visible, we strolled into the
Pacific Center. Seeing an ATM, we resupplied our wallets with
additional yuan, ready for tomorrow, and returned to our hostel
bunks for a decent night's sleep. Except for me.
Early on the First of July found me frustrated and most
unsettled, with an uncomfortable chill passing through my body as I
comprehended the circumstances. My success at getting us plenty far
away from home in the Northern Hemisphere was now seeming to be an
awkward positive at best. Literally, we were on the opposite side of
the World, in the Eastern Hemisphere, 116 degrees East of the Prime
Meridian, 40 degrees North of the Equator, at about 61 meters/200
feet above sea level. (El Paso, in the Western Hemisphere, is 107
degrees West of the P.M., 32 degrees North of the Equator, at an
elevation of about 914 meters/3,000 feet.) While a chord between the
two locations is not a diameter, it is nearly
11,000km/7,000miles. This knowledge caused me to feel alarm about
our desperate situation, something we great leaders will never
reveal—which I likewise did a rather good job of containing!
I woke Katarena and Enrique to see more of Beijing. Despite missing
the early departure of the Great Wall Adventure Club mini-bus to the
wall, we made excellent use of being in this ancient city. Walking
back along the Workers' Stadium Road, we took a pedestrian overpass
over it. A part of the wide stairwell were not steps, but had a six
inch plate welded over them on one side. I couldn't figure it out
initially, but then saw that it was a low-tech answer for bicycles
to get from one side of the busy road to the other. I didn't see any
skateboards, but I also knew it was a magnificent, albeit dangerous,
ramp. A skater wouldn't have to be overly proficient or intelligent
to use it, but the danger was in descending at a high rate of speed
into crowds of walkers or sitters.
Or into any of the numerous entrepreneurs on the
sidewalk, who had rolled out mats of knick-knacks to sell to
interested passerbys. A few beggars were likewise camped out on the
sidewalk, some unable to move far. We walked several feet to a
fruit kiosk, where we supplemented our breakfast as well as buying a
cluster of mini-bananas. Snacking on cherries, we backtracked to the
bridge, giving our petite bananas to the various grateful beggars as
I demonstrated that food is what they really want, not money—nor
even the opportunity to vote. [I base this conclusion on the voting
record in the USA, where registering and voting is routinely ignored
by an eligible majority (who undoubtedly also are the biggest
complainers!), yet ample beggars can be found on many street corners
as well.] We humans have similarities the world over!
Feeling satisfied that we appropriately helped out several
destitute Chinese, we continued our walk to Dongsishitiao Qiao
Station where we caught Line Two (blue). We were delivered us to
the Jian Guo Men transfer station, and then two stops West on Line
One (red), to Tianamendong. This is the station for Tian'anmen Gate
(Gate of Heavenly Peace) and Square. We walked up, out, and around
the East end of the Gate, to a more secreted The Working People's
Palace of Culture. It was a surprisingly quiet blend of gnarled
trees, sculptures, and no alternate access to the Forbidden City. We
retraced our steps to the 'Gate of Heavenly Peace' and passed
beneath Chairman Mao. We found an obvious booth to pay the 60¥
($7.27USD) per person entrance fee at the next impregnable wall, the
Meridian Gate (Wumen). This entrance to the Imperial Palace was so
named because during the emperors living there six centuries before
believed they were at the center of the universe.
According to the information provided, that belief was
extended by the Yuan dynasty, which were the first non-Chinese (the
Tatars of Mongolia, who adopted the name “Kahn”) to rule over China
during the 13th and 14th Centuries. The Great
Wall had been constructed to keep them out, but they were too
powerful, their empire stretching from as far West as the
Mediterranean Sea to the Pacific Ocean. What was so interesting to
me was that these Mongols were the same pillagers (the Golden Horde)
who were exacting tribute from a fledging Moscow during this time
period. Equally interesting, the walls around this palace complex
were not unlike those around the Kremlin—tall, seemingly
impenetrable, a warning to not proceed further. I was not surprised,
because this was not only a time of subjugation and colonization,
it was also of extensive contact. Besides physical goods and armed
troops, language, ideas, and religion intermingled throughout the
world's greatest empire. Perhaps the most well-known Western
messenger in this cultural exchange was Marco Polo, who was able to
safely make both an overland and sea journey, partly due to the Kahn
recognition that ensured his safe passage. His path of travel was
incorporated into the famous Silk Road (neither a single road nor
only for silk), an already-centuries old trade route that had
portions of a Great Wall built alongside it for protection of
travelers, traders, and their merchandise.
 Continue... |
