Great Walls, Vodka, and Galloping the Mongolian Plains

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Visitors to the Great Wall of China, that awe-inspiring stretch of brick over 5000kms long (and as we all know, visible from space), usually go to a completely restored section about an hour from Beijing. Paul, from Sydney, had already gone to check it out and his conclusions mirrored my own at the Forbidden City. Too many tourists and ultimately, too little to actually see. Fortunately, if you’re prepared for six hours return in a car (budgeting for the traffic, of course), you can access the Great Wall at Jingshanling. A short scramble up to the wall, and it’s a breathtaking 7-mile hike to SiMatai, passing some 67 watchtowers surrounded by green mountains and valleys. The length of the hike, coupled with its strenuous climbs to each gate and the haphazard nature of the ruins, attracts only the most adventurous travelers, and scares away just about all the Chinese tourists. Consequently, the rolling wall lanes were empty save for enterprising touts selling water, beer and postcards. Here, the sky was actually blue, the heat somehow bearable. The scale of the wall’s construction is almost incomprehensible as it snakes along the ridges of mountains as far as the eye can see. No wonder over a million people are believed to have died during construction (legend has it that bodies were buried in the wall, or mixed into the building materials.) It was well into the upper 30’s and thoroughly exhausting, but who could not get a buzz hiking the Great Wall of China? Some of the sections were little more than crumbling rock, others a testament to lasting Chinese ingenuity. Each tower offered views, and a chance to rest in the shade as people have for a millennium. Various groups of travelers bonded along the way, until at last we reached a swing bridge to exit to our waiting bus. A combination of sore legs, heat and thrill seeking meant I had to take the zip line to the bottom of the valley. Not only did it cut out another kilometer of walking, but it was also the longest zip glide I’ve seen yet, and only cost $7. I strapped in, jumped off the platform, and flew down - a fantastic end to an unforgettable day. It wasn’t exactly Beijing, but the city had somehow redeemed itself.

An all night drinking binge led to further redemption. Together with Ed and Richard from England, I ended up on a lakeside development surrounded by bars and clubs. In China, you can buy a beer in a supermarket for 2RMB, and the same beer will cost 30RMB at a bar. How they justify marking beer up 1500% is beyond me, but this is China, and many things are beyond me here. Richard was trying desperately to get rid of his counterfeit 100RMB note, which he swears he got from a bank machine. Fake bills are everywhere and unlike tourists, locals know instinctively what to look. As the night turned to dawn from the plush sofas of an outdoor bar, we decided now was the perfect time to revisit Tiananmen Square. It was nearly 5am when our taxi drove past the Forbidden City, a picture of harmony, and down an empty tree-lined boulevard. It felt weird to be in a car that actually drove, as opposed to just sitting in traffic. As we came to the square, surrounded by imposing pillars of communist architecture, we were surprised to find thousands of people already there. Admittedly, we were rather drunk and high on life, but this Tiananmen Square seemed altogether different from the one we had seen the day before. There were no western tour buses. The mausoleum was closed so there were no lines. People were celebrating the space by flying traditional kites, the day’s heat and smog yet to ruin the party. It is a magic time, dawn, and one that I see far too rarely. But if there is one tip to remember should you ever find yourself in Beijing during summer, it is this: Visit Tiananmen Square at dawn (and should you have a few drinks beforehand, it won’t hurt either).

My Mongolian visa mix-up meant another night in Beijing while the rest departed for a 30-hour train ride to Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. Vodkatrain helped me out arranging a short flight (and letters from the Australian consulate for the visa) so I could meet them at the train station. Beijing is not really the kind of place I wanted to spend an extra day, but I used my time well, visiting the Temple of Heaven to watch locals sing and dance on a Sunday afternoon, and bargaining my remaining RMB’s at the Pearl Market for cheap clothes. A few misadventures with taxis, the biggest (and loudest, smelliest and smokiest) internet cafe I’ve ever seen, a haircut that left me looking like TinTin, and the best sweet and sour chicken I’ve ever tasted, are all memories from that day. My adventures in China were limited to Shanghai and Beijing, but I’ll conclude with something a friend wrote me after doing business here: “Do you remember the fat guy in the Monty Python skit who burst after eating the after dinner mint? That’s China: coarse, bloated, insatiable, and it probably won’t know when to stop.” To me, it looked like the Chinese have bought the American Dream, and with their population, sooner or later we’re all going to pay for it.

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