The Great Wall and the Good Businessman

Sunday May 13

2:43 a.m. local time

It's a foggy night flying into Beijing.

It's not what I was expecting in the capitol city of a country containing 1/8 of the world's population. Of course I've only seen the airport and scarce freeways at this point. Even still, it doesn't feel like I thought it would. It doesn't feel so rushed and huge. Maybe tomorrow will change my mind. 

We made it to the hotel easy enough with a little help from a couple of our friends. JaJa's family helped us transport our luggage to the hotel, and her father even paid for a taxi. They spoke no English. At least, they didn't speak any to us. Jessica and I rode in a separate car with one of their friends and possibly son. At one point, the son's cell phone vibrates and Rihanna sings, "Just wanna stand here and--" and he answers it. Interesting song choice, my dude. 

I'm exhausted now. I have to be up in seven hours to go see the Great Wall. God, I'm hungry. There's something that smells like awesome drifting in through our window--which was open when we got in the hotel room. Strange.

Goodnight all.

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Still foggy this morning. Today we decided to go to the Great Wall. I think we could've picked a better day, but we weren't exactly able to know how thick the fog would be.

The drive out to the wall was interesting. After clearing the highways and freeways leaving Beijing, the land opened up to show its more prosperous side. It's amazing how quickly the city turns to country. Huge, spectral apartment buildings are looming in the fog one minute, and then without warning they are swallowed by huge fields laid out under the heavy fog.

But I've lived in the South long enough to see the split between town and country. The towns and the people were the most striking thing about the divide. In Beijing, there's at least a hope that you will run into someone who speaks English. Out here, you need to be good at charades. Otherwise you won't get very far.

We passed through a place called the "Eco Village." Sounds pretty great right? People working together to build an Eco-friendly, self-sustaining environment? Well we didn't go in far enough to make a judgment call, so I may be misled. It looked like a shanty town. People were making bricks--I think--or selling fruit or doing construction on the larger building in the area: three story, 60s-built bleak buildings. 

I don't mean to make it sound like a terrible place. Even from driving by, it looked very homely and comfortable. But it looked very poor. Very provincial. And yeah, I know: Who are you, you white American, to come in and say this town is provincial. By what standards are they provincial? How dare you marginalize them based off of one drive through their town, and how dare you call them ignorant for not knowing the things you know.

I get that. That's not what I'm implying. I guess I feel that our Western minds have this idealistic view of what energy conservation and being Eco-friendly means. Maybe going green looks less futuristic and more rustic than we want to believe. 

Onto the Great Wall. I'm going to get it out right at the beginning--I wish it had been sunny. The views were beautiful and the hills were rolling and the fog was thick. It wasn't so thick that we couldn't see the magnificence of it, but it did cut down on those breathtaking views they show you in travel agencies. The fog gave the scene an ancient feeling; it was almost like you could hear the workers grunting and moving and cutting stone with the dedication that comes only from devotion to the protection of one's country. It was quiet and cold and holy in the fog. 

That's if you ignore the old Chinese man in a wife beater, laughing hysterically, staggering up and along the watchtowers like a kid who's been away from a playground too long.

The energy surrounding the place was incredible, and the experience will be unforgettable. To anyone visiting, I would say go on a sunny day. And be confident in your ability to climb a small mountain. Unless you want to be "totally tourist" and take the cable car. Psssh.

We ate our first meal at the steps of the Great Wall. I had a big bowl of some kind of chicken noodle soup, the others had variations of dumplings and chicken. I think the whole spread cost somewhere around $10 or $15. Absolutely incredible, especially since it was so amazing. On top of that, I ate a dragon fruit. While it might not be the tastiest fruit on the planet, it's definitely one of the prettiest. The outer skin is pink and yellow in color and has petals that you pull to peel the fruit. The inner wall of the peel is the brightest, most fluorescent pink I've ever seen, and is made all the brighter by the edible snow white, seed-speckled flesh.

While the Great Wall is, you know, THE GREAT WALL, one of the most interesting things today happened before and after our trip. Jacob, Rachel, Jessica, and I went walking in the area around the hotel this morning. We passed a few shops and eateries, and at one point we passed by an art shop. The artist was sitting outside eating breakfast, and he got very excited to see us. He jumped up and asked me directly, "Are you Jewish? Are you from Israel?" I've traveled enough to know when someone is selling something and to just walk by. But his pitch caught me off guard. No, of course I'm not Jewish, I thought. The only thing we've been able to figure out is that my curls might have looked like the curls orthodox Jews wear... but they don't. Not really. 

I told him we were from the United States and we stood there talking for a minute. I start to break away, but he succeeds in dragging me and Jacob into the shop to give us his business card. Rachel and Jessica move along, but we stay out of courtesy. He pulls out a piece of rice paper and writes his name in the top left corner. He then proceeds to paint a picture, all the while asking us about America, school, who we are, what we're doing here, and what we think about China. We were supposed to meet up with the group at 9:00 a.m.--it's 9:05. Just a few more minutes, he says. 9:15. 9:20. He finishes up and says it will take only a few more minutes to dry. It's a beautiful painting of a cherry tree with bright red ball-blossoms and black branches. 

We tell him we've got to go see The Great Wall and we'll come back later that evening. Before we go, he tells us about my name which he painted under a branch of the cherry tree. Apparently, my name means "peaceful emperor." I'm not sure if that was his sales pitch, but it worked. Jacob and I came back later, much to his surprise. His wife and infant child named Thomas are there. I tell him I'm here for the card, which he gives readily on the condition that I buy another painting. "I'll give you special student discount," he says with a smile. "I give you both painting for 150 yuan." That's about $25 USD. Kind of steep, but he'd been a hell of a salesman up until that point. Not only did he walk us through every. single. one. of his paintings, but he was also thoughtful enough to bring his wife and child to increase any feelings of charity or guilt we might have. With Thomas gurgling and smiling up at me, I make the transaction. When he returned with my change, he brought Tsingtao beer to share with us. Talk about good business: friendly customer service, knowledgeable about the product, wife and child for guilt factor, and a free beer to top it off. We toasted to our travels, his business, and the unspoken camaraderie formed from good business practice.

Good first day in China.