Dearest Rachel –
So, this is the day; the twelve-plus hour excursion. They don’t get any longer than this; from here on out, everything else is going to be relatively easy. Hours on a coach, passing two enormous cities, to visit a place that I’ve been to before (but admittedly, barely remember, apart from some hawker trying to sell me a large, “solid silver” medallion for a hundred dollars U.S., which I could easily turn down, as I hadn’t that kind of money on me).
The things one does to say one has been to a world wonder. Couldn’t I just photoshop myself onto the scene, like the folks selling pictures at Taipei 101?
But I know better than that. A photograph just Isn’t the same thing as having been there, and every experience is different. You need to be there and see it for yourself, to get… well, the whole picture.
And that’s what I’m doing… again.
***
It’s hard to determine what (and how much) to wear to something like this. The morning is decidedly chilly, but Seoul certainly warmed up as the day wore on. Then again, we’re further north than Seoul – Beijing is roughly the same latitude as Minneapolis – and well inland, not to mention the fact that the wall is up in the mountains. Odds are, it’s going to be colder than we’re used to. Thankfully, I have the jacket I wore to the airport back in February, so I should be able to keep comfortable.
As usual, the terminal goes on for a ways, and we are instructed to not take photographs in the immigration hall, where we are to present our passports for inspection. However, the weird thing is that there are a half dozen fellows scattered throughout the hall, taking pictures of us as we pass through. I literally cock my head at one of them after I’ve gone through, and indicate one of the many signs instructing us that photography is forbidden in the area. He grins and gives me a thumbs-up gesture, as if to say “it’s okay for me.”
Yeah, I’m sure it is, because you’re working for the government; it’s different when you do it. I wonder if there’s a Chinese expression for ‘hypocrisy.’
***
The guide calls herself ‘Miranda’ and gives a little schpiel about Chinese characters (emperor 王 – jade 玉 – country 国) and astrological signs (one symbol for each of twelve years, as opposed to twelve symbols throughout every year). This latter is presumably to give us an idea of a souvenir to buy; a jade stamp crowned with the appropriate zodiac symbol, custom made at the local factory by the wall.
It turns out to be a moot point, as she only takes cash for this item; I barely have enough in terms of U.S. currency to serve for her tip at the end, so this is going to have to go by the boards. And I doubt she’d be keen to receive Japanese yen for it…
***
Miranda offers her cell number for us to use in case of emergencies. I understand the purpose of the gesture, and I guess I should be appreciative, but I’m not going to turn my cell phone on; not here in China, thanks very much.
I pass watchtowers 7, 8, 9 and 10 before a fellow cruiser catches up to me, glad to see one of his confederates up here. He’s attempting to make it to the Soul Tower like myself, but warns me that the trip back down is harder and more time consuming than the run up. Since it’s getting on toward 12:30 – meaning that half our time has already been spent – I conclude that I’m better off turning around right now, after getting some footage. Besides, I’ve already ascended as far as I can expect to – the Soul Tower is actually below Watch Tower #10.
Unfortunately, the way “out” requires me to walk through the showroom a second time, and I’m no more interested in their wares this second time than the first. The fact that a saleswoman beelines to me doesn’t encourage me to shop, either, and her opening line seals the deal.
“Is your wife with you?” Somehow, she knows that a guy isn’t going to be interested in what’s on offer here, but naturally assumes that I have a wife who will be. Look, I don’t hold it against her; it’s a perfectly logical assumption to make. The fact that she’s mistaken is simply bad luck on her part – and, perhaps, mine. Then again, I don’t know what of this would grab your attention; if John is accurate in his descriptions, there’s enough jade where you two are already to make the folks working here green (like jade, ha!) with envy.
It does mean that I’m in the parking lot with some forty minutes to kill yet. Given that the gates of the factory complex are done up in a traditional Chinese style, I take a moment to film myself before settling back onto the bus – which still leaves me with nearly half an hour.
I’ll say this much; when I was last here in the PRC, I complained about how I couldn’t go out on walkabout on my own in Beijing. That doesn’t seem to be the case on this excursion. “Miranda” doesn’t seem to have an issue with us wandering about a bit, as long as we’re back to the bus at the appointed time, which we’re more than willing to be, as we don’t want to be stuck in Beijing until we can arrange transport out of here. So I guess it’s still just as restrictive; we simply don’t notice it as much, as we’d just rather get back to the ship once evening falls.
And it’s time for me to try to get some rest as well, as we’re driving another three and a half hours back to the port. Honestly, I’m violating my rule of “if it takes longer to get there and back than you spend at your destination, it’s not worth your while,” when I think about it. But hey, it’s the Great Wall; it’s mainland China. How often do I – will I – get this chance? So I’ve got to take it.
It turns out that rest doesn’t come easily to me – I spend way too much time coughing to actually fall asleep on the bus. Now that it’s gone on to the following morning, I think I’ve figured it out. You might remember how, after a few days in London, I was coughing up gray phlegm? Yeah, I think that’s what’s going on here; I think I even made a note of the phenomenon on my last visit here. Sure, the air at the Wall seemed reasonably clear (you’d want it to be, in case there were any Mongols coming over the horizon), but Beijing is still one of the more polluted cities of the world, and I’m thinking it was affecting me – especially given the fact that we spent all that (otherwise unremarkable) time on the road. I won’t go so far as to say that I’m already sick of this place, but it’s far removed from being like an oyster with a grain of sand; it’s irritating, to say the least. Unfortunately, I don’t cough up mother-of-pearl as a defense mechanism.
But that pretty much sums up the day, honey. So, until tomorrow (and as we move into it, for that matter), keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 