Welcome to China

There are clearly more people in China than in India and I seem to be spending the day with most of them at the Summer Palace in Beijing. I can only chuckle under my breath as the masses throng all around, and the next time a Chinese woman tells me it’s going to be very crowded, I’m won’t be so blasé about it. I also now understand why she sent the car for me at 7 am this morning…. My resentment now somewhat abated. When we’d reached the Great Wall at Mutianyu, we sailed into the parking lot and I huffed and puffed my way to the cable cars, wisely assessing the height of the mountain ahead of me and cannily making the judgment call that I came here to go on the wall, and not try and kill myself merely attempting to get to it. The cable car ride is spectacular and offers me a birds eye view of the crazy wall, yet doesn’t prepare me for what I see when I go skip off. Not a great fan of man made items, watching this massive wall snake it’s way up and down the hills is quite surreal. Having the sun shine brightly taking the chill away makes it magnificent. This section has been restored (courtesy Henkel), and therefore is no longer the real thing, but my God, if it doesn’t make you inhale a deep breath as you long one way and another and you just see it reach endlessly. Wikipedia told me this was the less crowded section of the wall as the climb was steeper. Sadly, no one else seems to have read that as I struggled to find a quiet spot for a global moment. I had a client call at 10 am, and scampered down to the least crowded spot I found, making myself cozy in the shade of the wall, I contemplate being an Indian on the Great Wall, nibbling on a delectably flaky croissant, dialing into Singapore for a call with an Aussie. Call me a nerd, but just how cool is that?? I wonder if it scrambled the satellites of the CIA, NCIS, KGB, RSVP, TWBA, AIG and Red Army. I did contemplate walking the stretch all the way down to the next set of cable cars, but the crowds are swelling – these Chinese are hardy. They’ve got their young, their decrepit, and even their breastfeeding all on that wall, wheezing, huffing and puffing ,but all on the ruddy wall. I give up the battle and gasp my way back up to whence I came for an easier ride down the mountain. I was told it would be a ‘phaa’ experience, but with the qualification that since I wasn’t paying for the trip I’d love it…. not sure how true that is, but it really is quite an incredible sight and to think of it that many dynasties ago, wrapping itself to the defense of the realm is quite spectacular. Today was the perfect day, but oddly, I wish I was here in the snow. Somehow, that would have been more poignant. To think of all those souls that might have crossed it when they had to, and not when the snacks were up for grabs. It would have also been a more intense experience with hardly any people on it as you struggle with nature despite man’s insistence. Still, the sun winking of the far set of cable cars is a funky sight and I’m glad of the early start (despite feeling like stale toast), as the queue to the parking lot snakes several miles down as we leave for the Summer Palace. The souvenir sellers are at it full tilt (including very vociferous enforcement of a no photographing the dromedary policy! Pity- said creature was really adorable. Not sure what it is about them, but I find camels, especially the furry double humped varieties irresistible). Naturally, we’re unable to get into the parking lot of the Summer Palace, and just stop the car for me to get to the entrance by feet. The driver insists on accompanying me and as he points to the back of the ticket illustrating where he’ll pick me up, I being to comprehend. However, I’m hungry and decide to investigate the wares on the street side. My confusion clears as I realize the McDonald’s umbrellas are mere brand stamps and have nothing to do with the funky coloured ices and fruits on offer. I shy away from the sugar, and instead focus my energies on a man grilling meat on long skewers. They smell heavenly and I decide not to ask what animal it might be and just point hungrily. 10 RMB later, and a sprinkle of chili powder leaves me brandishing two speared sticks. I bite into it and gasp both with the heat and the juiciness. It’s gorgeous! I’m lined up against a railing with a bunch of other locals intently gnawing on our sticks. They very blithely chuck their remains on to the grass on the other side, and while I balk at that, I decide to adhere to the when in Rome model and nonchalantly toss mine over the side as well. My adventures in the summer palace are confined as a large part is under renovation, and well, I’m not that keen on palaces, but gamely meander along, stopping to admire the garden of virtue and harmony (no, I do not know why virtue should be harmonious) and the largest single rock for an ornamental garden before stumbling onto the lake and I do mean quite literally stumble as I get washed away with the massive crowds of people that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. I’m an Indian. I live in Bombay. Six million commuters use the local trains. I’ve been at Churchgate during rush hour. Nothing prepares me for this…. Yep. They do have more people than we do. All of them desiring to move to the next point at the same time without the patience to wait for anyone else. I can’t remember if I’ve ever taken photos of crowds before, just because I was taken aback by the sight of one, but I have now. It’s mayhem, and I feel claustrophobic. They look happy, enjoying their holiday. Suddenly, Bombay feels like a big, ole spacious city and the couples on Marine Drive are lucky to have such a respectable distance between them. The lake is littered with little boats, and I gingerly step across merry Chinese negotiating my speed, trajectory and the lake right next to me. The water bounces back the bright light, glittering wickedly like malignant silver and the pagoda and palace are a pale shadowy silhouette in the distance, unable to compete. The bridge to the island is spiked with bodies crossing over, even as large bird like kites soar overhead. It’s happy, free and insane. I can’t help but smile the entire walk down doing my best to avoid happy snappers, wheelchairs and running babies with icky fingers. I’m one of a few foreigners, but we’re such a negligible number, we might as well have been Chinese. I have no idea why everyone would want to head to the same place on their holiday, to be cheek and jowl with your fellow countrymen, but for some reason, they not only do, they seem to have a blast doing it. So Happy Qingming Jie Beijing.