Living life to Mao

Considering Beijing is so large and is chock full of such history and culture, it would be difficult to pick one single highlight. Choosing between Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace, and the rustic old Hutong areas is almost impossible since each has its own charm and wonder. If I am forced to choose though, I would go for the Summer Palace. Even though it is an hours bus ride from the center of the city, it is well worth the trip. The palace and accompanying temples is sat on a hillside on the banks of Kunming Lake. In winter you can walk out onto the ice to enjoy the view; or equally beautifully in summer, you can take a boat ride to admire the view.

Quick Tips:

As always in big cities, be careful. China may be Communist in name, but the capital city is rammed with people exceptionally keen to make an extra buck, or yuan in this case. Almost no prices for clothing, electrical goods, or souvenirs are fixed, so barter hard. Don't be afraid to sound ridiculous when you offer a price to a Chinese person who is selling something. They are probably marking it up by something like a thousand percent at the start.

Best Way To Get Around:

For a city of its size, Beijing is served poorly in terms of its subway. There are only three lines which, even though they are cheap (around 40¢ anywhere), leave massive areas of the city untouched. If you are venturing away from Tiananmen Square and the central districts, other options are needed. Cabs are relatively cheap and exceptionally plentiful. Buses are cheap and frequent, but finding out which one leads where is a struggle at the best of times.

The Kate Melu song may say that there are nine million bicycles in Beijing. But anyone who gets on one to go more than a few hundred yards takes their lives into their hands. The Chinese drive like maniacs, meaning the city's larger roads are no place for a gentle bike ride.

Beijing Railway Station is possibly one of the most crowded and chaotic places into which I have set foot. At the front of its massive facade are 40 ticket offices and two major entrances, all attracting vast crowds of pushing, squabbling, shouting Chinese on the move. It is therefore definitely good to know that the City Central Hostel, which is located dead across the street, has double-glazed soundproofed windows.

Considering the proximity of such massed crowds and also a busy four lane road, the hostel's serenity is without doubt a bonus. However, City Central's top attribute is clearly its location. Not only is it within ear-shot of the capital's main transport hub, but it is also within walking distance of Wanfujing, the city's main shopping center. As well as that the subway is right outside the door: Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City are two stops away on line 2.

Location aside, the hostel is still a pretty decent place to stay. It is cheap, clean, and modern. It has a bar that stays open late and sells cheap(ish) beer, and has two large pool tables and a massive DVD room as well. The only drawbacks are the truly horrendous restaurant next-door that the staff recommended, and the travel desk, the occupants of which are supposed to help with travel arrangements and organise tours but seem singularly incapable of booking train and bus tickets, or at times even staying awake.

In terms of facilities and comfort, the Far East Youth Hostel is probably the best budget option in central Beijing. Dormitory rooms are basic, but nevertheless they are comfortable and relatively spacious; the bathrooms are also spotlessly clean. The singles and twins are particularly nice and genuinely surprised me when I entered. The place looked almost like a hotel rather than a hostel, and was nothing like I expected having parted with only $12 per night.

The location of the Far East is something of a mixed bag. It sits in the midst of what remains of the Hutong District of the city—a maze of one-storey houses and cluttered side streets. Because of this, it is perfect for getting an excellent view of the city's more rustic side. From the Hutongs, it is a 20-minute walk (or 5-minute rickshaw ride) to Tiananmen Square. However, there is no subway station or major bus stop close to the hostel, so getting further afield within the city is not quite so easy.

The facilities at the Far East are excellent. The travel desk is efficient and can organise bus and train tickets as well as organise tours to all major attractions. In the basement is an excellent restaurant that serves Chinese food, as well as an awesome breakfast buffet at which I twice tried to eat more than my own body-weight.There is even the sign for a foreign exchange service, unfortunately it still shows French Francs and German Marks, so it is probably just for show.

I am genuinley always happy to stay at the Far East. However, I have visited Beijing many times and have seen much of the city. Even though it is comfortable, the Far East is not located well for the China rookie who has more to see.

Not to be confused with the California Noodle King, which is an American owned chain that offers poor standard food at grimy outlets across China. The Old Beijing Noodle King is something of a no-frills type of eatery, but it is clean and the food is top-notch.The lay-out and decor, in this crowded and noisy restaurant, is simple, consisting basically of a score of dark-wood tables and a sea of stools placed around them. The waiters announce each arriving party with a healthy yelp, and on occasion you can see the chef flinging your noodles around before he cooks them, but generally the food is by far and away the best reason to make your way to the King.As the name would suggest, the noodles are excellent. The fried variety are good and come in plentiful supply, but it is the boiled ones that really hit the mark. The waiters arrive at your table with a tray bedecked in dishes: one with the noodles, the others with all kinds of seasonings and spices. He then gleefully dumps them all into one, leaving you to mix them up and enjoy the truly delicious contents.The chefs at Noodle King are far from being one-trick ponies though. Some of their other traditional dishes are excellent. The beef with chili is stunning, and the Sichuan style chicken is awesome, both though are a touch on the hot side and only recommended for those with the appropriate constitution.The only downside to this place is the location. It is not close to any subway stops, meaning a cab is the order of the day. My recommendation, though, would be to visit the Temple of Heaven in the afternoon and then eat at the Noodle King in the evening, as it is just to the north of the temple.

I have no great knowledge of Tibetan food, or Tibetan culture, so there is no way I can claim to be an authoritative voice on whether or not Makye Ame is an authentic glimpse of Tibetan culture, or a real taste of Tibetan food. However, it was one of the most interesting dining experiences of my time in Beijing.I could be less than truthful and say that it was the idea of tasting a cuisine of which I had tasted precious little, or getting an experience of a culture about which I knew very little, that drew me to Makye Ame, but if I am honest it was the novelty value of eating yak meat. In all fairness yak meat is exceptionally similar to beef, but it sounds far more exotic and I could put it on the list of strange dishes I have eaten in Asia, which already included dog in Korea, and all manner of insects and unspeakables in China.Thankfully, Makye Ame is not hard to find as it is bang in the middle of the Jianguomenwai Embassy District. Inside, it is one of the most atmospheric places I have ever eaten. It is decorated with Buddhist wall coverings, carvings and prayer wheels, and is illuminated predominantly by candlelight. Both waiters and waitresses wear traditional clothing: the women have on long-ankle length robes decorated with gold embroidery, which wrap around the body and fasten with a ribbon like belt; the men have on long flowing shirts with delicate embroidery around the neck.The food is good but, not unsurprisingly, a little spicy for the western palate. Mutton and chicken dishes are available, but the yak is by far the top speciality. The spiced yak cooked on rocks is delicious and tremendously filling, whilst the pan-fried yak is also hot and tasty, but a little greasy.Most nights, the food is accompanied by Tibetan music both modern, traditional. and if you are lucky, dancing. On my first visit the entire staff, and a whole range of other Tibetans, embarked on a dance around the restaurant with their arms locked. The only downside I found to Makye Ame was the price of the drinks, which were particularly high in comparison to the food. I suspect that this is perhaps a ploy considering how spicy some of the dishes are. Well worth the visit though.

It may repel some slightly more squeamish diners when they learn that several stalls at the Donghua Night Market not only have insects and crustaceans on sale, but also offer a choice of testicles (by that I mean lamb's or bull's rather than left or right). So, in lies the beauty of Donghua—the place you go for a slightly more adventurous dining experience.

The night market is a collection around 30 or 40 stalls situated on a side-road close to Wangfujing, Beijing's main shopping area. They serve all manner of takeaway foodstuffs, including such regular fare as noodles, soups, or dumplings. However, the majority of them specialise in food on a stick. Whereas in the west this is generally limited to ice-cream or the occasional corn-dog, in China almost the entire food chain is available impaled on various sized wooden skewers.

There are certainly plenty of sensible eating options at Donghu; many of the dumplings are delicious and all the stalls seem to stock Uighur-style kebabs. In my view though, it is only when caution is thrown to the wind that you can really begin to appreciate the place.

I began my journey along the stalls with a snake wound around a wooden stick, which in all honesty I found somewhat disappointing. Donghua, though, is a process of trial and error. The snake wasn't too good, and neither were the snails; the grasshoppers were, quite frankly, downright disgusting. The frogs legs, even though they seemed more French than Chinese, were a mixed bag in themselves. Whilst they did taste pretty good, they contained so many bones that eating them from a stick proved to be nigh-on impossible.

Despite the early setbacks, there were plenty of stick-based curiosities that really did hit the mark. Regardless of their lacking any significant amount of meat, the scorpions I crunched my way through were distinctly tasty. The surprise packager was without a doubt though, the sea horses. Seasoned by herbs that bordered on offering a sweetish tang, they proved to be a real treat.

As far as the testicles were concerned, I have to say I much preferred the lamb's variety over the bull's. This wasn't really a reflection on their respective flavors, rather the lamb's were just much smaller and went down far easier. In comparison, the bulls were just that little bit too large and required slightly more chewing that could be deemed pleasant.

Beijing is a city resplendent in culinary options. Consider that China is such a vast, diverse country bordered by and influenced by territories as disparate as Mongolia, Central Asia, Japan, Korea, and India, and it is perhaps unsurprising that its capital offers a great choice of food. This encompasses not just local cuisine, but food of almost every variety. Therefore, it must say something that whenever I am in Beijing I seem to gravitate towards Tianhai. The surprising thing is though, if I were to ask myself why I suspect it would not have all that much to do with the food. Not that I wish to be critical of the fare on offer, on the contrary some of the dishes are superb: the beef with chilli is excellent, as is the beef with black bean sauce. The only disappointment was the donkey meat, which was bad—although maybe I should have seen that coming.

There are a wonderful combination of factors at Tianhai that work to create the atmosphere of an antiquated sadly departed China, a world separate from Communism and from the rampant modernisation and tourism that has followed it. The first of these factors is the location, deep in the heart of the clumsy sprawl of one and two storey buildings buildings that make up Beijing's fast disappearing hutongs. The second is the decor. Many people would call it shabby even dilapidated, others would go for rustic or atmospheric. Either way the worn wood panelling and tiled floor give a sense of homeliness not often found in such a massive city. Whatever description you would pick for the interior of Tianhai, it does create a whimsical bygone feel.

There are several little touches and idiosyncrasies that serve to generate the atmosphere. Sat on the bar are three giant jars containing pickled snakes and frogs, next to them is a large rust stained gramophone whilst the TVB in the corner plays old Charlie Chaplin movies. The crowning glory though, is a series of black and white photographs of the hutong districts. Even though they evoke images of the 1920s, they are actually taken by Tianhai's rather rotund owner, who can usually be found tucking into a serious portion of rice and an even more serious helping of rice wine.

There is clearly no point writing about the Forbidden City without quickly making it explicitly clear that the place is stunning. The first taste of this comes without even getting remotely close to the gates. I remember being struck as I wandered through Tiananmen Square and saw the vast paved area stretch away to the red facade of the city. Then as I got closer I was simultaneously impressed, awe-struck, and amused by nthe giant portrait of Mao that hangs above the entrance; the size and position gave it a dominating effect, but I could not help but chuckle at the large mole on his chin. For a man with such power, it seemed strange to me that he didn't get the artsiot to gloss over the little blemish.Once inside, the delicately poised architecture of the wooden buildings are genuinely captivating, especially as recent rennovations have seen everything repainted, giving the colors a whole new edge. The downside of that though was that when I visited, large areas of the complex were out of bounds.I have to say that my favorite area of the whole place is the Imperial gardens at the far north end of the city—the final thing on any standard tour. They are filled with small pagodas nestled amongst large, imposing, and decidedly antiquated looking trees. Despite the beauty of the gardens though, I am unsure whether I enjoyed them because of their relaxing green atmosphere or for the fact that they represented something of a change. This may sound like the observation of a Philistine, but if I am honest after half an hour or so in the Forbidden City, all of the buildings began to blend into one. As stunning as it is, it seems to me that ancienty Chinese architecture is distinctly samey.I left the Forbidden City feeling culturaly stunted, asking myself how I could have got bored at such a beautiful place. However, after visiting the Temple of Heaven the next day and the Summer Palace later in the week, I began to see I may have been onto something. Then again maybe I should learn to apprecaite culture a bit more.

Mao Zedong casts a shadow over China like no other dictator (or democratically elected leader for that matter) in recent history. I am not particularly talking about the Cultural Revolution or the Great Leap Forward, although they did make a massive indentation on the face of modern China, rather I mean the industry that the face of the long departed leader has become.China is growing rapidly and is beginning to compete in world markets for all sorts of commodities. However, one thing that traders in Beijing have quickly established a monopoly in, is Mao memorabilia. Every time I have visited the Chinese capital I have been shocked at the variety of products adorned by the Chairman's image. If I am honest I was not too surprised at the sights of Mao t-shirts and badges, I even found the idea of a Mao pocket watch too quaint to resist, but a musical cigarette case that played the Chinese national anthem seemed just one step too far.Each time I passed Mao memorabilia in a gift shop, or saw it at the side of the street, I could not help but think that the man himself would have struggled with the idea of his image being used for profit. Similarly I am not sure he would approve of the way his body has also become something a tourist attraction in itself. The mausoleum sits in the center of Tienanmen Square and despite being open for just five hours a day, attracts hundreds of visitors.As I joined the queue I was shocked by two things: firstly that it was predominantly Chinese and secondly how ordered it was. Most other attractions around Beijing are awash with tour groups from all over the world. It seemed strange that after all the horrors of Mao's regime in its latter days, people would still be lining up to pay respects 20 years after his death. I looked around myself and wondered what impact Mao had had on the lives of the people that were stood close by. Surely some of their mothers, fathers, aunts or uncles had found themselves reeducated, relocated... or worse.The body itself is as anti-climactic as possible. Mao remains a rotund, albeit inanimate, figure and rests under a large red flag, which stretches up to his chest. You cannot take photos, or even stop for a closer look. Instead visitors are simply ushered past and onto the giant souvenir shop at the rear of the hall. If he had a grave rather than a giant mausoleum, I am sure Mr. Mao would be spinning in it.

When you consider that the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square are adjacent to each other, and that the Temple of Heaven is only a 30 minute walk from the two, it easy to see why the Summer Palace could be forgotten amongst the excitement. The ancient playground of the royal court was built so that the Emperor did not have to spend the hotter months of the year within the sprawl of the city. So perhaps surprisingly it is not the easiest place to get to. Without doubt though, it is worth the effort and I would even label it my favorite sight in Beijing.None of Beijing's subway lines go remotely close to the palace, meaning either a cab or a bus need to be involved. Organised tour buses can be expensive and are subject to the same sort of traffic congestion as the public ones, although are far more comfortable and exponentially less crowded. Both times I have visited the Summer Palace I took public bus 808 and on both occasions it took around 90 minutes to get there.Despite the bus being crowded and uncomfortable for much of the way, the destination was definitely worth the discomfort. The main structures are built on the banks of Kunming Lake and all look spectacularly over the water. The first of these is the theatre, which represents a truly wonderful piece of architecture. The stage is ornately drafted and delicately painted, and in a piece of classic imperial decadence is built opposite the bed chamber of the princess, allowing her to watch operas without even having to get up.From the theatre I climbed the tree covered Longevity Hill to the Tower of the Fragrant Buddha, which offered a stunning view of Kunming Lake. The tower and the Precious Clouds Pavilion behind it are again stunning, created in an ancient Chinese style one with high pagoda like roofs the other with classic Buddhist freezes. However, for me the best way to appreciate the Palace was from the lake below.Since I visited once in summer and once in winter my two experiences of the lake could not be more different. In the summer my friend Alana and I took a boat—built in the shape of a dragon—that coasted out along the water and on to the South Lake Island. I clearly remember that there was a dense summer haze which blurred the edges of the palace buildings leaving looking delightfully vague as they peaked out of the greenery of the hill. In the winter, when I returned with my buddy Oz, the haze had gone and the lake was frozen solid, allowing us to walk out to the island. Alas, on that occasion the view was spoiled by renovators scaffolding. To compound my disappointment I managed to fall spectacularly on the ice to the amusement of almost one hundred Chinese.

I think it would be fair to say that the Temple of Heaven and I have something of a fractious relationship. On the two occasions I have visited, scaffolding and heavy restoration work have made much of the grounds in which it is situated, off limits. As a consequence of this on both those occasions I have skulked around the place feeling disenchanted at being deprived of great chunks of culture and a bit agitated at having to pay the full admission price when I was not getting the full temple.

The most photogenic and famous part of the temple is the circular, two-tiered, deep-blue Hall of Prayers of Good Harvests. Alas it was this, that on both my excursions there, was closed. On my first visit almost none of the structure was visible as it was virtually cocooned in scaffolding; I managed just to catch the odd glimpse of blue paintwork and was forced to leave mightily disappointed. Five months later the restorations had progressed enough for the hall to be at least visible, but not open to visitors. I took consolation in the fact that I could thankfully take a few pictures from a distance.

Whilst I may have missed out on one of the best aspects of the Temple of Heaven, I was able to enjoy some of the others. The grounds are genuinely beautiful and are exceedingly pleasant to stroll around, this is particularly true in summer when the tree-lined boulevards are lush with leaves and the grass is green and full-bodied.

The Echo Wall is also a wonderfully interesting little thing. It is semi-circular in shape and—in theory—allows sounds to resonate along it, making it possible to talk in whispers with a person thirty meters away. When I tried it though it proved impossible as hundreds of other tourists were trying the exact same thing. All I got was a cacophony of chatter ion a variety of languages.

A similar situation exists at the Triple Sounds Stones. It is alleged that on the pyramid of five flat stones a clap of the hands or a stamp of the feet will reverberate according to the stone upon which you are standing. So if you are on the highest stone, each noise will echo off the stones below. Again, this proved impossible to verify as my claps were drowned out by hundreds of others around me.

 

For me the Temple of Earth proved to be one step too far. I will not dispute with anyone who is inclined to argue that the place is a wonderful example of historic Chinese architecture and Buddhist culture. What I would counter them with though, is the argument that it offers nothing that cannot be seen all over Beijing.I believe the best way of describing my feelings when I ambled around the temple grounds was overkill. There were long tree-lined boulevards at the end of which were large pagoda-like structures filled with large golden buddhas and assorted Buddhist paraphenalia. Since it was the Chinese New Year, hordes of people were kneeeling in front of the Buddhas and the air was thick with an almost toxic amount of incense. Alas, none of it made much of an impact upon me.Now, I am sure my attitude to a place so full of culture and history will be alarming to many people. However, as much as I can empaphize with such thinking, I believe I am justified in tiring of the ancient Chinese look, considering the amount of it that I have seen. Prior to the Temple of Earth I had visited the Forbidden City, Summer Palace, Temple of Heaven, and others. At all of these places I had seen similar architecture, only a greater scale.In all fairness to the Temple of Earth, it was fighting a losing battle with my senses considering the impressive precedents set by some of Beijing's other sights. What probably tipped me against it even more was the fact that I had taken a 40 minute subway ride, rammed in with swathes of Beijingers to get there. To offer a fair judgement though I have to say that had I seen the Temple of Earth before the rest of the city, I would probably have raved about it. Instead it simply goes down as one more temple.

I think the first thing to note about Beijing's Silk Street is that it is not actually a street, rather it is a giant four floored indoor market. The second thing to remember is that very little of what you see on the shelves is actually anywhere remotely close to being genuine.

The fact that none of the merchandise inside the walls of the silk market is genuine may deter many serious shoppers. However, there is still plenty to be said for some of the copies that are on sale. On my first visit I went with my friend Alana, who was just taken aback by the variety of bags on offer. Now I will admit I am no fashion connoissieur, and I definitely know very little about hand-bags, clutch-bags, and the likes, but I was informed that even though none of them were exactly like the real thing the resemblance was uncanny, and many were very well made. She spent what felt like a week on the basement level, where bags and shoes are on offer and spent a small fortune on various bits. She even devised an ingenious system of buying varying sizes of bag so she could fit one inside another inside another inside another and so on, like a giant bag shaped babushka doll so as to be able to transport them home.

Along with the bags, some of the clothing is also excellent quality. My first visit was almost a year ago now, and I am still wearing the same "Calvin Klein" jeans that I purchased for around $10 and they are lasting and wearing superbly. On the other hand, some stuff is genuinely cheap and proves the old adage of "you get what you pay for." I bought a pair of supposedly Nike soccer boots, which did not even manage to make the kick-off of my first match in them before they showed signs of splitting.

For me the fun of the place doesn't come in searching for the perfect bag or the best looking shirt, instead, it comes in the haggling. The golden rule at Xishui is that no price is fixed. The average sale begins with the Chinese salesgirl quoting a ridiculously inflated price. Customer and vendor then barter away until a price is reached, often one that bares no resemblance to the initial quote.

The best part is the way the sellers will try anything and everything to get a sale. When selling to men there is often some sexual wares used, the odd gentle stroke of the hand or the compliment on how handsome it makes you look. As much as you know the girl is lying, it does offer a slight nudge towards parting with some hard-earned cash. It is like a jungle, and I have to say it is that part of it that I enjoy most.

There is a reason it is called the Great Wall and not the 'good wall', the 'average wall', or the 'OK wall'. In short China's most famous landmark is an absolutely stunning sight to see.With something as magical, beautiful and awe-inspiring as the wall, the problem arises that if you are planning a trip it is unlikely you are going to be the only one. This makes it essential that you choose the right area of the wall to visit. The section at Badaling is by far the most popular destination for Beijing's tour buses; it is close to the city and has restored to almost perfect condition. The only problem is that in the height of tourist season it is possible to stand on it and not be able to see the edge, due to the hordes of tourists in the way. There are several other options, but for me the best choice is to combine two locations and take a hike between Jinshaling and Simatai.Most hostels in Beijing will take you to Jinshaling and then pick you up a few hours and around 15km later from Simatai. I have done it twice and both occasions it has cost around $15.The bus tends to leave at well before 7am and arrives at Jinshaling around 9am. Being that I am no morning person, I was not a fan of this, but I have to say a few gulps of coffee and my first glimpse of the wall soon took my mind away from thoughts of sleep.The Jinshaling section is quite well restored and runs along the top of a ridge that climbs gradually into the clouds. At the start of the hike I looked along the ridge and the series of guard towers that stretched away into the distance and wondered just how I was gonna get that far along. Half an hour and five towers later and I was flying. The wall was nearly deserted, allowing me to push along and gawp at each awe-inspiring view that seemed to appear at almost every turn. Each time I stepped down one of the guard towers and looked around, I found myself asking 'how?'. It seemed almost unbelievable that something so large and spectacular could have been built so long ago and survived so well.The hike provided me with some of the most stunning scenery I have ever seen, and I could easily wax lyrical about it for page after page, unfortunately there is a word limit so I will move on.I have to say that the scenery and the experience of the wall were unlike anything else I have ever experienced. However, the hike took it out of me. The first time I completed it was in September and the late summer sun left me sapped of energy and begging for mercy as the gorge at Simatai drew into view. The blisters, aching calves, and a bit of thirst were well worth it though.

The section of the Great wall at Badaling, is by far the most visited by tour buses and tour groups. It is the closest to the city and is well restored. It is also ridiculously busy.The wall is so large that there are, of course, several other options. One that is well worth the visit is the Simatai section of the wall. It is easy to get there as almost every hostel in Beijing runs tours, and has recently had a small hotel and visitor center built close by. This makes it as easy as Badaling, but far less crowded and a great deal more rewarding.The only problem with the Simatai section is that it is insanely steep. Rather than a gentle stroll, parts of it feel more like mountaineering. If you think I am exaggerating, or a lack of fitness is causing me to go overboard a little with my descriptiveness, then look at it this way. It is maybe a 3km hike from the visitor center to the wall, but that walk and the first 2km of the Simatai section itself can be circumnavigate via the use of a cable car that allows anyone not fancying aching calves and blistered feet the chance to reach some of the more picturesque stretches of the wall.I opted to hike up, and found it like a walk into the clouds. At the start the path up seems vertical and the guard towers that dot the wall seem to be rising away into the stratosphere. However, once you get high up, the views are downright astounding. You can look down to the Simatai river gorge below and even across to the Jinshaling section of the wall across the gorge as it tethers on a high mountain ridge.My problems at Simatai though, came on the way down. Having pushed myself as hard as I could to get as high as I could, I soon found my knees giving way as I tried to inch my way down the steep steps back towards my bus. My fatigue reduced me to such a slow speed that I even thought I would miss my bus back to the capital.Simatai was definitely worth the visit, even if the steep climb definitely took it out of my legs. Maybe next time I will be a bit better prepared, or will walk a little slower.

I was, without doubt, procrastinating when it came to visiting Beihai. I was well aware of how close it was to Tiananmen and central Beijing, and I had heard nothing but good things about it. However, I had been in China for 4 months before I eventually mustered the energy to make the journey. Within seconds of passing through the southern gate I was ruefully asking myself why I had waited for so long. I was greeted by a delicately pretty spring view. The trees were lush and green, the lake was glistening in the sun, and the breeze was decorated by wisps of white blossom floating gently down to earth. The centre-piece of the park is the giant white dagoba that crowns the Jade Islet at the southern end of the lake. It is the first thing you see as you enter the park, and even whilst circumnavigating the massive lake, it rarely manages to escape the attention.In truth, the dagoba is a curious looking creation. It is a sort of cylindrical shape, but tapers at the centre making something of a giant hourglass and is topped by a giant spiky looking thing. The spike is painted in deep, dark colors, but the hourglass is painted the most brilliant of whites. With the sun betaing down upon it, the dagoba was intensely bright and seemed to be bouncing all around the park like some serene deity.As omnipotent as the dagoba seemed, there were plenty of other sights that make the park wonderful. On the southern bank of the lake is the round city, home to one of the few remaining relics of the Yuan dynasty. The Yuans originated from the Mongol hordes of Chinggis Khan; their most famous leader being the Khan's grandson Kublai. However, because the Mongols were transient and operated on horseback, and also perhaps because they were better at destroying than creating things, little remains from that period of Chinese history. One thing that has stood the test of time though is a giant wine goblet once used by Kublai himself. The goblet, which sits behind a glass screen, is over a meter in diameter. It reflects the Yuan's Mongol heritage with ornate horse themed carvings around its circumference.At the opposite end of the lake was one of my favorite little corners of not just the park, but maybe Beijing as a whole. Set in its own courtyard, just off the main thoroughfare, is the nine dragon screen. The name pretty much says everything—it is a giant screen, decorated with nine giant dragons. What captivated me though were the colors, an almost electric blue alongside a light and refreshing turquoise offset by rich gold edges—stunning.

I understand the following statement may sound a little strange considering I am discussing a museum. However, the Chinese Military Museum is really not the place to go if you are a fan of history. The major problem I found when I spent a rainy Thursday afternoon there, was the deficiency in English, with much of China's military past left unexplained to the outsider. There was a certain quotient of information on offer with most exhibits having one major explanatory note in English, unfortunately many of the exhibits were quite large, meaning that scores of details were simply lost in the wind.The captions that do exist are interesting in themselves, offering a decidedly less than impartial view of events. The case in point regarding this came via the displays concerning the civil war between the Communists and the Kuomintang. Perhaps it would be fair to say that it did include plenty of irrefutable historical facts such as names, dates and places. It was the tone in which they were written though, that raised my eyebrows. The quote: "reactionary rule of imperialism, feudalism and capitalism" in regards to the KMT spoke volumes in terms of the museum's motivations.In truth, I still enjoyed the museum as it said perhaps more about ideologies than military history and seemed a curious relic of an era that has since passed for the majority of the world. The main hall reminded me of May Day parades from Moscow, which I used to see on the news when I was a child. At the centre of the room stood a giant metallic missile whilst at the either side were rows of tanks painted a deep green, but decorated with emphatic red symbols. At the far end of the room were a plethora of red flags with a giant star above them overlooking everything with dictatorial authority.The theme ram all through the building. In every display pertaining to events occurring in the last century or so there were giant murals depicting brave victories and supreme sacrifices of Mao's men. It struck me as being a genre of art that is no longer too prevalent. The same could be said of the collection of giant statues and busts of Chinese heroes. All were on a larger than life scale, as though to emphasize the individuals status—whether deserved or not. They were the kind of figures that used to be visible in the city squares of Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union for over 40 years.

It may not be the best known attraction in Beijing, and may only appear as little more than a footnote in most guidebooks, but I found the Ancient Observatory to be positively delightful and would describe it as one of the quaintest little nooks in all of Beijing. This, combined with its location, provides a wonderful dichotomy.The intersection at Jianguomen is one of the busiest patches of ground in the entire city; it is around a kilometre from both Tiananmen Square to the west and the main railway station to the south, so as a consequence traffic whistles past in both directions. At the same, a few feet below street level, two of the capital city's subway lines meet at the busiest station. Yet despite the amount of people who pass within just a few feet of the observatory, it manages to maintain a wonderful tranquility and anonimity.I visited during May's Labor Day vacation when Tiananmen Square was awash with people and the city streets were swelling with tourists. The observatory on the other hand, was nigh on deserted. From the street the building looks more like a fortress than anything else, cultivating a particularly un-Chinese appearance with high stone walls topped by medieval style ramparts. It was only as I got inside though, that I truly began to appreciate the places character.The most interesting section is by far the roof of the main building. Tucked in amongst the ancient ramparts is a wonderful collection of astronomical equipment. I have to admit that I had very little clue as to what any of them did exactly; their captions included astronomy terms that even though they were also written in my native tongue, may as well have been solely in Chinese. However, many of the pieces were centuries old and looked wonderful juxtaposed against Beijing's modern skyline in the background.As much as the roof was by far the highlight, the grounds below were also well worth a visit. Even with traffic hurtling past just a few metres away, they managed to convey a wonderful sense of serenity. They were surrounded by a thick barrier of trees that seemed as inpenitrable as the bricks of the astronomy itself. These served to keep out not just the noise from the road, but the traffic's fumes as well. Behind the trees were a collection of sundials and a few more pieces of antique equipment. It proved very pleasant to wander amongst and enjoy the clean air and peace. The observatory is pretty small and could never be described as one of Beijing's major sights. Yet I don't think I can recommend it highly enough. A visit will take less than an hour and because of the location it is easy to find.

I suppose being on holiday offers something of an excuse for developing an increased capacity for looking completely and utterly foolish. In the last few weeks of Beijing’s summer my friends had made the trip over from England determined to take full advantage of this leniency. As a resident of China I had no such mitigation and was accordingly feeling decidedly sheepish as I stood in Jingshan Park.

We were standing on a wooded hillside dressed in flowing robes as though we were emperors of the Ming Dynasty. Sat on a wooden bench which had been painted to look as though it were a gold-encrusted throne, was my friend Matt. I stood to his left whilst Felvus, the third member of our group, stood to his right. Whilst the Chinese lady who had rented us the bizarre get-up snapped pictures, several passers by ambled around us smirking at our less than regal appearance.

Despite getting the opportunity to pretend to be an ancient, imperial despot, the appeal of Jingshan lay not in its scope for playing dress-up and looking slightly silly, but in the wonderful views of Beijing it offers. Situated across the street from the Forbidden City it boasts a wonderful base from which to let one’s eyes dance across the famous tiled rooftops, past Tiananmen Square and away into the Hutongs.

The majority of central Beijing is completely flat. The vast expanse of Tiananmen through the Forbidden City is one long plain. This is what makes Jingshan so special. The small around which it is centred is the first change in elevation for miles in each direction. There is an ornate pagoda on then peak from where it is immensely pleasant to simply stand and stare.

I have visited Jinshang four or five times and must admit that it is at its best in late afternoon. As the sun begins to set and takes on a reddish glow the reflection from the rooftops creates something of an ocherish glow and resonates a wonderful sense of warmth.

It took me a while to notice, in fact if I am honest it wasn't even me who noticed, rather one of my friends. It was page 100 of Lonely Planet's pocket-sized 'Best of Beijing' where it deals with the protests of 1989. In the bottom paragraph of the page the words "pro-democracy, demonstrations, brutal, sent and shivers" had been whited out. The original sentence was supposed to be: In 1989 pro-democracy student demonstrations took place in Tiananmen Square; the government's brutal retaliation sent shivers though the world." only now reads as something of a blur.I had purchased the book at the Foreign Languages Bookshop in Beijing's Wangfujin district, which led us to put two and two together, and deduce that since it had been sold in China it had been censored. Prior to arriving in China I had heard much about censorship, but had never experienced it first-hand.When we discussed it though, it seemed that the crude attempts at blotting out a particularly distasteful piece of history seemed somewhat pointless. The book was, for a start in English, and secondly aimed at tourists, the vast majority of whom would know all about students' hopes being quashed and young men standing in front of tanks. As I pondered what I had seen, I began to cast my mind to over forms of media and wondered to what extent the Chinese authorities kept information to a minimum—it became a bizarre experiment.Chinese television is, of course, predominantly state controlled. The only English language station that gets a wide audience is CCTV, which offers up propagandaesque news items, and hideously boring documentaries. So, after deciding that that milieu was a no-go I opted to try the net.I sat in an Internet cafe and tried my luck to see what I could access, and found mixed results. Whilst I could access the front page of the BBC's news service, I could go no further. With one British news gathering service disabled I presumed it would be the same for everything similar. Not so. Both the Daily Telegraph and Guardian were available in all their glory, as was CNN. Such a disparity had me confused. Why the BBC and none of the others? Perhaps for pure name recognition?I was desperately confused at that point. What were the motivations behind blocking only certain sites. So I widened my search and headed for Google. On the English version I typed in the words Tiananmen Square and was greeted by series of sites talking about the massacre—the majority of which were blocked. I then clicked on images and found a full page with pictures of a young man standing in front of a row of advancing tanks; surely images that spoke volumes. I then hit upon an idea that seemed to take away much of the censorship mystery. I tried Chinese Google, (www.google.com.cn) suddenly it was a different story. The images of tanks disappeared and were replaced by the Square in all its splendour on a sunny Beijing afternoon. Not a tank, nor a student, to be found.The evidence of censorship which I found was something of a riddle. It does seem that the censorship of English language, western based sources, is relatively minimal and that the small amount that does take place is a token gesture. Rather the aim is stop pieces in the Chinese language. I admit I could massively off the mark here and will continue my little investigations, for humor's sake if nothing else.

It is clear to see that China still retains many of the facades and workings of a Communist state. On a superficial and easily noticeable level the flag is predominantly red and flies over what seems to be almost every official looking building. There are also a massive quantity of uniforms to be seen walking around Beijing; along the sides of Tiananmen Square you can see young soldiers standing to attention or being marched around, all bedecked in a deep green uniform emblazoned with red stars and gold insignia. The name of the country also seems to reflect an era that for much of the rest of the world ended in 1989. When the German Democratic Republic faded away and became part of simple old Germany, in China no such change took place, meaning my passport now contains a visa from not just China, but the People's Republic of China.There also remains a bizarre iconography with Mao, despite having been dead for 30 years, maintaining a healthy watch over the motherland. It does not matter one iota where Mao's picture hangs these days; he can have only minimal influence on the country whilst lying in a giant perspex box. I suppose though it just remains a tradition in a place conditioned to that type of thing. There do remain some workings of the Communist system however, that have a serious impact upon everyday life.First off, there is only one party; no matter what those in power do the public has precious little recourse. Controversial domestic policies such as 'one child' go unchallenged, and issues such as Tibet are easily glossed over. I know that if I were a Chinese citizen of voting age I would be desperate for a choice of party so that I could vote for someone with a better environmental record in an effort to clean up some of the country's heavily polluted cities.The media is also a perfect example of government control. In your average hotel room across Beijing, the TV provides 50 to 100 channels. The majority of these are in Chinese with the only English offering coming in the form of CCTV9, the government-run foreign language broadcast, which in all fairness is far from inspiring. In contrast to China I looked at Mongolia just a couple of hundred miles to the north, a country once Communist itself and governed by former members of the Party. Despite the fact that the government still controls much of the local media, there are independent channels and newspapers operating in English. It is also easy to pick up BBC News, CNN and even Australia's ABC Asia-Pacific.The evidence and effects of Communist government are clear in China, but so is the fact that it is moving towards a market economy at pace. This is clear through the emergence of big business and the arrival of western commerce. However, possibly the best indication comes at street level, where Beijingers are taking to capitalist enterprise like a Peking duck to water. An ex-pat friend of mine characterized the situation well when he remarked that if you have the money, "you can buy anything or do anything in Beijing." A walk in certain areas of the city seems to confirm this. Stroll around the Hutongs close to Tiananmen Square and you can buy anything from jade bracelets and Tibetan jewellery through pirate DVDs and copied sportswear to traditional teas or even western electrical goods. It is certainly not a situation either Mao or Marx would be relishing.Similarly in the Sanliturn area, the seedier side of commerce has also developed. As my buddy Oz and I strolled around in search of a bar we first found ourselves being approached by several Africans trying to sell us drugs , before we stumbled upon what we soon discovered it is known as 'lady bar' street. It was a touch bizarre, as we turned a corner we were suddenly met by a young woman asking if we were in need of girls. From then on we were unable to find a bar where once we took a seat we were not joined by ladies who were clearly in the employ of the establishment.The best example of of Chinese commerce I encountered though, came at the Great Wall. I was hiking between the Jinshaling and Simatai sections when I encountered an old woman trying to sell books and T-shirts. I was quite tempted with an outrageously unsubtle 'I climbed the Great wall' T-shirt, but had nothing in which to carry it. I said 'no' and gestured that I had no bag. In broken English she asked where I was going. I told her I was on my way to Simatai. Then in even more broken English she suggested she could follow me and I would be able to purchase the shirt from her when we got there. I was astonished by the lengths she was prepared to go to make the sale. Simatai was over 13km away and represented a tough day's hiking even for a 25-year-old, which she certainly was not. I politely refused and she headed off in search of other potential customers.

It was the first day of Spring Festival and things were crowded around Yonghegong subway station. My friend Oz and I had just left the Temple of Earth under a cloud comprised in equal measure of burnt incense and disappointment. After all the sights we had seen around Beijing the temple seemed to be absolutely nothing we had not witnessed several times before. To cap our disappointment because of the celebrations the grounds were crammed solid making walking around at leisure virtually impossible.We had not originally planned to visit Ditan park. However, two factors swayed us into parting with 6RMB and taking a peek. First of all it had been such a long and crowded subway ride to get to Yonghegong in the first place that it seemed a shame to leave after just the temple. Second, there were so many people pushing and shoving to get in that we figured it had to be worth a look. Even by Asian standards Ditan set new levels in the violation of personal space. It was as though all of Beijing and much of the surrounding area had come for a day out all at once. To be fair though, after a couple of crammed hours, we decided that they had had good reason to. What is usually a tranquil and placid place to stroll had been transformed into a giant carnival market. At first we shuffled along through the crowds, passing stalls selling mostly things like cheap toys or badly crafted decorations. There was the odd one of interest though, such as a guy selling ceremonial swords. Both of us considered purchasing one, but gave up on the idea after debating the intricacies of getting it back home.Once passed the shopping we found the real fun. At the southern corner of the park we came across a variety of trinkets and games that looked as though they had come straight out of a cheap fairground. There were trampolines, shooting galleries and even a small carousel. What stopped me in my tracks though, was a full-size metallic monkey wearing a pair of boxing gloves. I was instantly captivated; it isn't everyday you get to go toe-to-toe with a boxing monkey. At just 10RMB a pop (roughly $1) it seemed to be the bargain of the century. Alas, when I had spoken to its owner I discovered it was out of order. Perhaps someone had delivered it a knockout blow earlier in the day.It is difficult to communicate how disappointed I was. Just a few days earlier I had visited the Temple of Heaven and Forbidden City, both of which were undergoing massive renovations. However, missing out on the main hall of the temple or almost half of the ancient city seemed like nothing to missing the monkey.After my near miss with the metallic primate we moved into a section of open air games. With the 10RMB I would have spent on the monkey I played a soccer game. The idea was to knockdown a pyramid of soda cans to win a prize. With one old-fashioned punt I managed to do just that. Unfortunately I soon discovered that I had won a giant sparkling, pink teddy bear. There was no way I was hauling such a monstrosity through some of the densest crowds I had ever seen. So, I managed to palm it off on a spindly looking Chinese youth who in turn passed it on to his rather chubby girlfriend - it seemed to make her day.

We had been on the road for two weeks. Using the train and then the bus, we had weaved our way from Beijing down to the ancient city of Xian, before heading north to the semi-autonomous region of Ningxia. Along the way we glimpsed the Terracotta Warriors, Xian's ancient city walls and many lost treasures of the Tangut kingdom just outside Yinchuan, the provincial capital of Ningxia.It was a 19-hour train ride from Yinchuan back to the Chinese capital, so by the time we arrived my travelling companion Oz and I were in distinct need of a shower, a good meal and a nice cold beer. We drew into Beijing at the very start of China's New Year celebrations. So, after we washed a night on hard sleeper bunks away, we decided we ought to go and join the festivities. During the day we decided to explore the Qianmen area south of Tiananmen Square, where a main road had been sealed off to make a giant market and street parade. Seas of Beijingers were strolling around in large family groups buying cheap toys for the kids to play with and all manner of meats, fishes and fruits impaled on small wooden sticks for everyone to eat. It was an interesting little walk, although by the end of it I was beginning to get decidedly claustrophobic, despite the fact that I was actually outdoors. I was keen to immerse myself in Chinese culture, but there were so many people around me that I began to feel that I was getting just a little too close.After being shuffled and bundled forward for nearly a kilometer, we came to the end of the parade. It was marked by a giant red arch made from glistening red balloons. Beneath the arch was the highlight of the whole thing as acrobats dressed as a giant dragon stood, danced and flipped on each others shoulder's.It was a truly impressive sight, the kind of lavish oriental culture that tourist companies use to paint alluring pictures of the mysterious East. The only problem was actually getting a look at the picture. The crowds had formed a circle around the dragon and there were just so many people that no matter how much I pushed, shoved or jostled there were always at least three or four bodies in front of me. This was tricky for me, but as I am over six feet tall, not that much of a problem. On tip-toes I could get a good view over the sea of black hair in front of me. Oz on the other hand, found things a touch more difficult. At barely five feet he was level with many Chinese and had to resort to jumping up and down to catch a glimpse.Our afternoon stroll was fun, but it was in the evening that things began to really take of - quite literally. Over the course of the day there had been a series of loud bangs and several spatters of what sounded like machine gun fire. At first we thought it was the Chinese government dealing with pro-democracy protesters, but quickly realised it was merely some of the local people setting off fireworks.As night drew in the bangs seemed to become louder and more frequent. We were staying in the hutong areas (traditional, small one and two-storey districts) in and around Qianmen. We had contemplated heading towards central Beijing in search of large, organised celebrations, but as things got more and more explosive we decided that the best way to experience New Years was going to be sit tight and enjoy things on a more local level.We began our evening with some food and several bottles of Tsingtao. Even whilst we were tucking into our food and chugging down our beer we were able to sit at the window and watch the cooks and waiters and the restaurant wander outside at random and begin to set off huge packets of fireworks. The road outside was barely ten meters wide, meaning that it filled with both light and sound in an incredible way. The buildings one either side ensured the noise had nowhere to go, so the deep bombs were even deeper and the machine gun like strings of bangers seemed to echoe off wall after wall after.For an hour or so we sat there swilling down the beers and watching things get hotter and hotter outside. Then alas at just approaching midnight the restaurant had the temerity to close and deprive us of our ringside seat. The fireworks were still going everywhere and it seemed a definite shame to miss out on all the fun. So, we decided that we ought to just stroll around the Hutongs and see what was going on.We began by quickly nipping into a small store to stock up on more beer and then wandered off. beers in hand. to see what we could see and hear what we could hear. In our slightly lubricated state, the basic plan was to give a "Nihau" (hello) to everyone we met and see what they were up to. This worked wonders. Not only did it show us just how friendly Beijingers can be, but it got us invited to drink beer and let off fireworks with almost everyone we met along the way.. I think my fondest memory of Chinese New Year will be, when at one point when we were invited to join a family and their fireworks, the noise and sparks were so intense that I found myself leaning back in a doorway clutching my beer for dear life and hoping my ear drums were not perforated and I wasn't hit by any sparks.

Tianjin and Beijing, two of China's three biggest cities, are separated by less than 100km. Not surprisingly it is quite easy and relatively cheap to travel between the two. I live in Tianjin, but spend many weekends in the capital. However despite commuting the two quite often being an almost blissfully simple process, it is not always the smoothest or most luxurious of trips.

There is a double-decker express train that runs throughout the day. It takes just over one-hour and is clean, modern and in many respects thoroughly unChinese. Possibly the best indication to its alien nature is the provision of seating and use of available standing room. Everyone who buys a ticket, gets a seat and there is no-one stood in the aisles with large bundles of clothing or antiquated suitcases held together with gaffer tape. I would go a far as to say the Tianjin-Beijing express is almost on a level with many western train services. In fact, in pleasant contrast to rail services in Britain, it generally arrives and departs on schedule.

The express train is clearly the best way to skip between cities. However for the first few times I travelled between the two sprawls of humanity, I did not manage to discover that fact. I arrived at Tianjin station for the first on a clear, but chilly Saturday afternoon. I wandered across to the ticket desk and almost passed out. There were maybe 20 booths, all of which looked to have lines - although I use that term quite loosely - of around 30 or 40 people. I was not in a swashbuckling mood, so I took a few steps back and decided to reassess my options. Outside I could see three or four shiny blue buses with the Chinese characters for Beijing printed on the front.

I wandered over and asked simply, "Beijing?" The driver took 25RMB from me and ushered me aboard. From first sight it seemed packed. I scanned around looking for a seat, but quickly saw there none and that people were in fact even sitting on small stool in the aisle. My initial reaction was to turn around and head-out, but having already paid my money and with passengers jumping on behind me, I figured I had no real choice other than to sit myself down on the stool and enjoy the less than comfortable ride. It was a long 2 hours to Beijing.

Upon my return I decided that it was a safer bet to brave the lines and wait on a train. Unfortunately I did this without the knowledge that there are two types of trains running between the two cities. The first id the express, the second is cheaper, but offers a somewhat reduced level of service. Ordinarily the ticket vendors tend to give Westerners express tickets unless they ask otherwise, it seems though that I got one who was in a funny mood. She decided to offer me the cheaper version, why I am not exactly sure.

The difference in price between the two services is around 10rmb, just over $1. Obviously in China this amount goes much further than in the West, but it is still not that princely a sum. For instance it would be enough to purchase a couple of bowls of noodles, but would not stretch far enough for a beer in many of Beijing's bars. However, to many Chinese, it is clearly a significant wad of money. Whilst on the express trains the majority of the seats were generally full, but on the other type of trains the congestion was so bad that seating became an outlandishly scarce commodity.

On my journey back from Beijing I was not feeling my best ,having spent the previous evening watching English football and enjoying several glasses of Tsingtao. As a consequence, I shuffled through Beijing Railway station feeling decidedly worse for wear. I was looking forward to slumping into my seat and snoozing my way back to Tianjin. My goodness was I in for a shock.

Because of my condition I was not moving with the utmost haste, I was in fact at a rather slovenly pace. Accordingly, I only arrived at the door to carriage eight with a couple of minutes to spare. I showed my ticket to the attendant and endeavoured to find my seat ... No chance! Barely 3 feet beyond the door I met a solid wall of Chinese. I managed to squeeze and squirm past a few bodies before losing any hope of finding my seat. Instead, I found a little niche in the passageway between carriages. I was wedged between the back of a young man, the wall, and a giant bundle of luggage. My cozy position, and the gentle rocking of the train as we moved through suburban Beijing, left me feeling almost comfortable. That was until two men a few feet away decided to pass the time by chain smoking. With my constitution as delicate as it was, it was all I could do to avoid throwing up all over someone's baggage.