360 Degrees Longitude (29 page)

The Forbidden City has an interesting past, to say the least. To protect the emperor's bloodline, aside from the emperor himself only eunuchs were allowed into the inner courtyards of the palace where the imperial family and harem lived. Even the emperor's male children were exiled once they hit puberty. The life of a eunuch is fascinating in a macabre sort of way. Poor families provided young boys to the emperor as a way to elevate the status of their family. Once accepted, the young boys were castrated and then dedicated their lives to serving the royal family. Since all but the eunuchs were forbidden in the inner courtyards, some wielded great power. This practice began in the 16th and lasted until the 20th century. Sun Yaoting was a mere nine years old when his family placed him into the service of the emperor Pu Yi just months before the Manchu Dynasty was overthrown in 1911, ending the practice. The eunuch era fully died when Mr. Yaoting passed away in 1996.

Tiananmen Square was built in 1420 and opens up to a plaza of over a hundred acres, and has been a gathering place of political and social importance for centuries. More recently it is where the People's Republic of China was proclaimed a state by Mao in 1949, and 40 years later was ground zero for the student protests where a lone student stood his ground against an advancing tank.

When we visited, the sky was brilliant blue, but a fierce wind and the bitter cold bit our exposed skin. Although we had come to peruse the site, after just a few minutes we were looking for any place that had four walls and a heater. Suddenly I felt a tug on my sleeve and a whisper in my ear, “Psst. Hey buddy—I have the latest
Harry Potter!
DVDs. Only eight yuan” (about US$1). The young man opened his ankle-length coat a bit to reveal a decent selection of late-release movies on DVD. Never mind that the latest
Harry Potter
was still in its debut weekend in local theaters.

“You come my shop. I show you. Very quality! I have very more at my shop!”

September and I cast a wary eye at each other but the icy cold had impaired our judgment, and his shop promised warmth. We started to follow him as he darted into an alternate
hutong
entrance and zipped off down a narrow alleyway and turned left, right, left, then went straight for a while then left, right, right, then down to the dead end of a dark and narrow alley.

By this time alarms were ringing in my head, “Danger! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!” If the guy was setting us up to be mugged, he certainly did it right because as soon as we passed over the event horizon, we were lost. In his “shop” there were several harried-looking folks in a small room containing bunk beds, a one-burner stove top, and the smallest refrigerator I had ever seen.

Past the cramped living quarters was a small warehouse with copies of every DVD known to mankind, and some not yet known.

“These movies are COUNTERFEIT!” Katrina protested loudly.

“Yes, they are,” I replied. “So are the winter clothes we just bought.”

“But why are we even here?”

That was a good question, to which there wasn't a good answer. We had just watched the latest
Harry Potter
in the theater the night before, but curiosity—and the desperate desire to warm up—had got the best of us, and now we found ourselves in a place we didn't really want to be.

I couldn't make my mouth form a meaningful answer and Katrina knew it. After a moment, she pointed out, “If you buy that DVD, you're encouraging people to copy movies illegally.”

As Katrina was dialing in the guilt, I was silently justifying making a quick purchase and then leaving. After all, what was the difference between buying the clothes and buying the DVD? At that moment, I just wanted to get outside as soon as possible. It seemed buying something was the path of least resistance.

 

Jordan's Journal, November 29

Today we went to Tiananmen Square. Some people told us to go to the art museum and buy their paintings because it was the last day you could buy them. I said, “Hey Dad, if I put my toe in one more museum I'll explode.” That made them go away. We bought a counterfeit copy of
Harry Potter
on DVD. When we went to the hostel to watch it, it was in Chinese but it had funny subtitles in English. Like when Mr. Malfoy said that Hermione's parents were Muggles it said “Melons the dishonorable parents are?” And when Mr. Malfoy was saying “red hair” to Ron it said “stupid hair.”Katrina wouldn't watch it with us
.

Hiking along the Great Wall near Beijing was Jordan's wish for our trip. As we made our way toward Jinshanling it was clear that the affluence of the city didn't extend to the countryside.

“We've made a friend,” I said, after a few moments of hiking along the wall. Each of the Western tourists was being followed by a local villager.

Our new friend followed us for the duration of our five-hour hike, every so often seeing if we might need a new bracelet or a bottle of water. We named her the Water-Bottle Lady. She didn't speak a word of English. She seemed to be pointing out her village on the horizon of the barren December landscape.

Late in our hike we stopped for lunch. The Water-Bottle Lady lingered a safe distance away. “We have an extra sandwich,” September said. “We should see if the Water-Bottle Lady wants it.”

The Water-Bottle Lady was delighted at the prospect of such a treat. Derek, who was traveling in our group and could speak Chinese, told us she had never seen a sandwich before. She closely inspected the contents between the two slices of bread. When she discovered it had a bit of meat in it, she was astonished.

After our brief lunch, we prepared to finish the last leg of our trek along the Great Wall. “Katrina, go throw away these water bottles,” I said. The Water-Bottle Lady reacted with a mixture of surprise and horror. She started speaking a mile a minute and took the water bottles and placed them in a bag.

Derek interpreted for us: “She's explaining that thirteen empty plastic bottles can be traded for one bowl of rice.”

It's hard not to feel guilty for the relative luxury of being able to eat at will.

 

Katrina's Journal, November 30

Today we went to the Great Wall. We had to get up early to catch a bus that would take us there. After a couple of hours of reading our books on the bus, we arrived at the Great Wall. First you had to walk up to the top of a mountain to get to the wall. It was really cold
.

Mom thought hiking along the Great Wall would just be like walking down a cobblestone street, but it wasn't. The wall stretched as far as you could see, on the ridge of a mountain, twisting and turning. And because it was along a mountain ridge, hiking along the wall was up, down, up, down, sometimes so steep it was like climbing a ladder. Sometimes there wasn't much of a wall and while going up to the towers there weren't steps. You had to pull yourself up, using one of the wobbly stones placed there. In other words, it was SO MUCH FUN. One time I was pulling myself up a steep section of stairs with my hands and I wasn't watching where I was going and I almost fell over the edge
.

At the end of our hike there was a zip line over a river. Jordan and I did it. You were harnessed in, and then you went over a river, way high up, maybe a hundred feet or more. WHHEEE!!!

Later that evening, safe in our
hutong
, we were looking at a menu posted in front of a small restaurant. English subtitles that accompanied the Chinese characters read “sweet meat,” but there was picture of a dog at the bottom of the Chinese side of the menu. Pointing at the picture, I remarked, “Almost every place we've visited since leaving Europe has had a dog problem. Have you noticed that there are no feral dogs here?”

Katrina was horrified. “Ewwww!”

I learned on a previous visit to Hong Kong that the California variant of Chinese food I am so fond of is distinctly different from the real deal. It wasn't therefore a complete surprise when crunchy bovine intestines, goat's penis, and other fascinating entrees appeared on restaurant menus. The picture of Spot was unnerving, though.

 

John's Journal, December 3

We have been taking turns reading some of Katrina's books, which are fascinating
. Red Scarf Girl
is set in the Cultural Revolution that started in the late 1960s. I had heard about the Cultural Revolution, but never understood what it was. The Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution was little more than Mao Zedong trying to retain power. What it meant to the guy on the street though, was that anyone with an education was persecuted and anyone who fancied Western goods was arrested
.

A stroll around Beijing in the early 21st century makes it clear that the Cultural Revolution failed. There was a Rolls-Royce dealer at the same shopping complex as the movie theater, for crying out loud!

Another memorable book we've been reading is
The Diary of Ma Yan,
written by a young girl about Katrina's age. How her diary came to be in the hands of a French journalist is remarkable. Her story is about the struggle of life in rural China and her resolution to rise above the poverty and chronic hunger she faces. Showing maturity well beyond her years, Ma Yan determines that she needs to continue her education, but her parents can't afford it. It surprises me that people in rural China are hungry and can't afford an education. Wasn't the idea to spread the wealth?

“I have an action item for you.”

September was looking too relaxed in our hostel room. She looked up and responded dryly, “How can I serve you?”

I tossed her our guidebook and said, “We have to be in Hong Kong in about three weeks. Find some place we can go that's warmer.” Beijing was good to us and we stayed longer than intended, but even with the mittens, hats, and sweatshirts we had acquired it was just too darned cold.

An hour later September said, “We should go on a cruise down the Yangtze River through the Three Gorges.”

“I thought they built a dam and it was flooded.”

“Almost. It goes up in stages, and isn't quite completed yet.”

“I'll take it under advisement. It has got to be warmer than Beijing. That is my only requirement.”

The idea of a “cruise” down the Yangtze River was highly appealing to the kids, who had learned about cruises from their friends. We overheard them talking about the prospect of our Yangtze cruise.

“Jenny told me their cruise ship had, like, five different restaurants where you could just go eat as much as you want!” Katrina said.

“Hunter told me their cruise ship had three different swimming pools, one just for kids!” Jordan responded.

It didn't take much research to learn that we could expect it to be 20 degrees warmer along the Yangtze River than in Beijing, so we caught a flight to Chongqing, a tiny city with a population of a mere four million.

Since it would be almost midnight before we could get on our boat, we went to a restaurant to kill time as well as fed ourselves. After we ordered, we found ourselves briefly alone. “I wish you wouldn't do that,” Jordan complained, trying to melt into the seat of his chair. He was objecting to my method of ordering chicken.

“Our waitress will go home tonight and tell her parents that some American came in and ordered by clucking and flapping his arms,” I said. “Probably doesn't happen very often.”

Our waitress returned with our order as well as the entire kitchen staff. “Why are they all standing around our table, watching us?” Katrina asked.

“We're the evening's entertainment,” September said. “As your father well pointed out, how often does someone order by flapping his arms?”

“I was only trying to ensure that we wouldn't dine on Spot!” I said in defense. No fewer than six staff members gathered around our table. I consider myself pretty expert with chopsticks, but I never before had to use them to retrieve noodles from a hot pot. Every time one of us fumbled with the choppers, it drew laughter from the sidelines.

“I guess in a country of 1.3 billion people,” September mused, “there is no such thing as privacy.”

To a Westerner it is rude beyond words to point, gawk, or otherwise observe strangers in their personal space. Such behavior is accepted, even expected, in China. As outsiders, we were fair game and it was open season. Everywhere we went it was as though the entire family was being patted on the head.

After dinner we passed a grocery store on our way to the pier. “We don't know what we'll find on board,” September pointed out. “We should be ready with enough food for the entire four days.”

We ducked inside and found a very modern store that in many regards wouldn't look out of place as your corner supermarket, except it was packed cheek to jowl with about ten employees for every seven or eight customers. Noting the staff-to-customer ratio, I commented, “This must be a curse of overpopulation and cheap labor.”

“Perhaps,” September replied. “It surely doesn't seem to be driven by any economic principle I studied in school.”

We made the acquaintance of the Cruise Ship of Pain just before midnight.
We had splurged for the deluxe cabin with the ensuite bathroom.