We had two great days on our own in Beijing, and in exceptional weather
The Forbidden City
This time of year the smog in Beijing is usually bad. So bad, sometimes, like the day before we arrived, that planes can’t even land there. However, a wind kicked up, and one night it rained, so we enjoyed pretty clear air. Our last full day there, you could even see blue in the sky.
Our first day there, Sunday, November 6, was mostly spent exploring the Forbidden City, then climbing both the Drum and Bell Towers. We also wandered around some of the hutongs — areas of narrow streets and one-story dwellings, some of which have become hip enclaves.
The weather being what it was, I only did a couple of very quick sketches, most of which aren’t worthy of posting online. Here’s one, at least; a bronze turtle, about two meters long, done in black, gray, and Apache Sunset ink:
But I did use my camera as a sketching tool, as one art book describes it. I promise to share some of my efforts here as soon as I can.
That evening we had “duck ala chine” at a restaurant that styles itself “1949.” If you’re up to putting up with snooty waiters (think the old Russian Tea Room in New York) and a lot of over-the-top chefiness, the duck is actually remarkable. The skin is wafer-thin crispiness and the meat tender and tasty, not greasy.
The Summer Palace
On Tuesday, November 8, we took the subway to the Summer Palace. Remember, Beijing is 13 hours ahead of New York at this time of year. We would hear the election news only on Wednesday morning.
The subway was amazing to me. It is not only clean and orderly (we didn’t travel during rush hour), it is surprisingly easy to use. Not only are the signs in both Chinese and English, so are the announcements!
The Summer Palace is an intriguing place, with most of the buildings set on a steep hill overlooking a beautiful lake. I wonder how some of the Imperials even made it up to those buildings, as some of the steps are 18 inches high, cut from the bedrock.
At the top of the hill is a Buddhist temple, housing three large, gold Buddhas and 18 somewhat life-size saints, also covered in gold. Photos are not allowed, inside, so to memorialize the place for myself, at least, I did a rough sketch of one group of 9:
Black Sesame Kitchen
We were told that the best food would be in a mysterious restaurant called Black Sesame Kitchen that was located in the Hutongs, but would move from place to place. It was exciting; you could watch the chef create truly authentic dishes. You will be amazed. The owner, Coco (no last name needed), would get you a taxi back to your hotel.
This time it was located 200 meters down an unlit back alley (think East New York) that taxis couldn’t go down. Yes, there was a big mirror positioned over the stove at one end of the 15 by 30-foot room. You were free to guess what he was doing while Coco pumped you for your life history. Yes, the stir-fried shiitake (I think they were) were interesting, as was the fact that the chef carved some slices of a really big carrots to look like lotus, but nothing really stood out.
$42 per person could buy you a very fine and authentic Chinese meal in Manhattan, Flushing or Bay Ridge Brooklyn, in an easy-to-find, well lit and comfortable restaurant. You wouldn’t have to crowd around a communal table, with your knees bumping against something under the makeshift table, sitting on a stool. And oh, you can just go out to the main road and hail a taxi like you do in New York!
OK, I complained about the “chefiness” and hyped ambiance of the last place I talked about, but this was a sham.
Next: The Great Wall