Beijing Bargain

I had just failed my yin and yang test miserably. The three doctors at the China Research Institute of Traditional Chinese Medicine looked worried, as if I weren’t long for this Earth. With great concern, one studied my tongue. Another felt my pulse. The third recommended I see a doctor as soon as I returned home. (I did. I’m fine.)

We were six Americans on our way to see the Great Wall, about an hour northwest of Beijing. The institute is a midway stop to introduce tourists to Chinese medicine and, perhaps, sell us some expensive herbal potions.

The yin and yang exam was meant to see whether our “female-male energies were balanced.” By linking hands--the last person holding the end of a wire attached to a mild electric current--we were supposed to feel a little tickle evenly in our left and right hands.

Instead, I felt a zap that stung. I shrieked, and the hairs on my arms stood on end. The others swore they couldn’t feel a thing. One doctor motioned to the other to release me from the chain. Clearly, I was ruining their demonstration.

To save face as we were ready to leave, I bought an herbal concoction--a mixture of ground antlers, ginseng and other herbs that would nourish my yin as it subdued my yang energy. At least it subdued their worry. They looked considerably relieved as I handed over $45 for the little pills.

Wherever we went on this trip to Beijing last February, the people were helpful and friendly but also dogged in their pursuit to sell, sell, sell--everything from silk pajamas and kites to freshwater pearls and cloisonne vases. A chirpy litany of English words followed us everywhere: “Hello, hello! Here cheaper, cheaper!”

Like the goods, our five-day winter-season excursion to China was “cheaper, cheaper”: $798 per person, including air fare, hotel, two full days of tours and some meals. (Northwest Airlines World Vacations offers this same trip for $794 until March 1, 2000.)

Winter, my husband Rolf and I have discovered, is an excellent time to visit Beijing, when prices are lower and tourists disappear. We prefer winter trips anyway as a way to experience faraway destinations inexpensively. Last year we bundled up and toured chilly cathedrals and castles in Germany. The year before, we braved the biting cold to see Anne Frank’s house and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. Each trip cost less than $1,200 for both of us.

For the first-time budget visitor, Beijing is fine in winter, although the scarcity of foliage left the city colorless--not the flowery, green Beijing seen in brochures.

Taxis, food and admission fees at the sites were never more than a few dollars. We paid only $1.15 at the Confucius Temple. Meals for two with beer were less than $6.

Daytime temperatures are cold--30s and low 40s--but the air is dry; there’s less than a 10% chance of precipitation from November to February.

And the face of Beijing is changing daily. Twenty years ago, tourists on China’s streets would witness only a sea of monotonous blue “Mao suits” on men and women alike. Foreign visitors could find goods only at government-run “Friendship” stores. Now, with a freer market economy and a country eager to join the World Trade Organization, the city bustles, markets are full and the people are colorful, even trendy, and always smiling.

Rolf and I sensed immediately that five days in this city of 13 million, enriched by 3,000 years of history, wouldn’t be enough. Still, the chance to see the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square and several historic temples made the 16-hour flight from L.A. more than worthwhile.

On the first of three escorted travel days, CITS (China International Travel Service) sent “Jackie,” a multilingual Beijing University graduate, to pick up tourists from several hotels around the city and jam them pretzel-like into a Matchbox-toy-size minivan. Jackie was a likable fellow who loved American movies and music. He told us his hobby was “collecting American dollars.” Funny, I said, that’s ours too.

We rode first to the Forbidden City, home to emperors of the Ming and Ching dynasties for about 500 years, and spent a few hours exploring its vast plazas, gardens, halls and courtyards. The 200-acre complex was finished in 1420, and royalty rarely left the safety of its walls until 1924, when Emperor Puyi, who had abdicated the throne 12 years earlier, was forced out. The public was allowed entrance in 1949.

Double-eaved roofs glazed in imperial yellow sheltered rooms with gigantic timber doors. Inside, the ceilings were the attraction; colors reflected a cosmic order (from royalty to peasantry) humans, and meticulously painted scenes of mythological dragons and serpents dazzled the eye. The largely empty rooms were better left to the imagination of those who had seen “The Last Emperor,” filmed here in 1987.

Nearby we visited Tiananmen Square, a 100-acre concrete plaza that includes the Mao Tse-tung Mausoleum. The square has been the site of several student uprisings in the last century, none as destructive as the military’s massacre of student protesters here in 1989. Official death count: about 200. Unofficial count: thousands. It was peacefully empty where we stood, a gathering spot for taking pictures and flying kites.

The next day, as we drove to Badaling, a restored section of the Great Wall, our guide perpetuated the myth that the wall is visible from space. It isn’t, according to astronauts. Sorry.

The wall was started 2,200 years ago and stretches, though not always continuously, for 1,500 miles (nearly 3,800 miles in the mid-1600s). The Ming Dynasty (1368 to 1644) emperors decided to shore up the crumbling walls. The job took more than a century, cost many lives and in the end failed to stop the Manchu invasion that toppled the dynasty.

At the base of the crenelated wall, a stone plaque written by Mao exhorts: “He who doesn’t climb to the top isn’t a hero.” It didn’t look difficult (about a half-mile distance), but after 25 steps I was ready to fall over. It wasn’t that I was out of shape but that I couldn’t get a cadence going or a pattern to my breathing because the steps are so uneven. Two steps would be a foot high, the next only 2 inches, and so on. It was easy to stumble. After 1 1/2 hours, we reached the summit. It was an inspiring sight, the wall stretching and snaking for miles over hills, then disappearing into the horizon. Exhausted but elated, we took in the view in silence--that is, until a bevy of boisterous Bavarians from a mountain-climbers’ club joined us.

After the wall, the tour bus transported us to the Ming Tombs, burial chambers for 13 of the 16 Ming emperors, about 30 miles north of Beijing. Not every tomb has been excavated (no money in China’s budget for that, Jackie said). Large stone vaults with few markers didn’t inspire much interest, ours or anyone else’s. Jackie was as bored with the tombs as we were; he wasn’t saying much about their history. As he lighted a cigarette and fell silent, we strolled ahead to look at the artifacts room, where gorgeous silk robes, intricate jade headpieces, gold jewelry, dishware and swords were displayed.

I had read in “The Traveler’s Guide to Asian Customs and Manners,” by Elizabeth Devine and Nancy Braganti, that the Chinese don’t like to say no and risk disappointing their guests. That often made getting a straight answer frustrating. Jackie’s version of no was “I guess so.” Is the bank open today? “I guess so.” Is the Lama Temple open? May we enter that building? “I guess so.” After two fruitless taxi rides to closed banks, we learned to differentiate between yes and “guess.”

Our third day of guided touring gave us a chance to see a hutong, a 200-year-old neighborhood where generations of families live in traditional courtyard-style houses. It’s a popular tour on which guests can ride in a pedicab through the narrow alleys to see markets, peek inside a kindergarten and visit a “real” Chinese family.

We were on our own the remaining two days. We could go anywhere, do anything, no restrictions. We set out on foot or hailed taxis, which are plentiful, to visit a cloisonne factory and museums.

The 13 million people in Beijing, which means “North Capital” in Mandarin, ride 9 million bicycles and drive 1.2 million cars on streets marked by considerably more chaos than organization. One pedicab driver pedaled us diagonally across an intersection where cars sped at 45 mph. I covered my eyes. I wanted to save face--literally.

The city was incredibly crowded and relatively tidy, but it’s No. 3 on the list of the planet’s most polluted cities. Coal is the primary source of heat. Soot spews from factories and homes. In winter the air is hazy; it’s hard to breathe. Beijing’s saving grace is that it has several pretty, sprawling parks.

People stared at us almost everywhere we went. Near Tiananmen Square we stopped at a bakery for a piece of cake (dry and tasteless, but only 25 cents) and sat by the window to people-watch. Our presence drew passersby and cameras. One man mimed shooting a basketball when he saw my husband, who is 6 feet 3.

English isn’t widely spoken. We carried a pocket dictionary that included Chinese characters so that we could point to a word when our pronunciation stumped them. It was especially helpful ordering food. I was terrified I’d get a heaping platter of bull’s testicles, curried snake or some domesticated pet, none of which is beyond the realm of possibility in Beijing’s restaurants. We were lucky and got wonderful dishes of noodle dumplings, duck (although the webbed foot I pulled out with my chopsticks was a bit unsettling), vegetables and rice.

One waiter, who didn’t have much to do, pulled up a chair at our table and thumbed through our dictionary, conversing with us one word at a time. He showed us his restaurant’s “Welcoming to come in” sign. Down the street, another restaurant’s “closed” sign read, “We will be sorry to give you any inconvenience.”

At museums the few English placards weren’t necessarily enlightening, but were similarly delightful. “The Jin Dynasty was a turmoil age. But meanwhile they also accelerated their fusing.”

Day 6, in the morning, Jackie showed up again to drive us to the airport. Part of me wanted to tie myself to the hotel’s revolving doors and refuse to budge. I wanted more. More time, more souvenirs, more museums, more China. We had only scratched the surface. Next time we’ll dig deeper.

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GUIDEBOOK

China on the Cheap

Getting there: Air fare and hotel packages are an easy, economical way to visit Beijing. We booked with Japan & Orient Tours, telephone (800) 377-1080, but this year the price is $998. However, Northwest Airlines World Vacations has virtually the same package for $794 per person, double, including round-trip air fare, airport transfers, first-class hotel for five nights, breakfast daily, a full-day city tour and a full-day Great Wall and Ming Tombs tour. The price is good until March 1. Call World Vacations at tel. (800) 800-1504 for more information.

Getting around: Once in Beijing, taxis are a cheap way to travel. The first two miles are free; the most we paid was $2 around the city, about 10 miles. Make sure you have your destination and hotel written in Chinese characters because most drivers don’t speak English. Hotels catering to Western tourists are also helpful in setting up longer excursions. The half-day hutong tour from CITS cost $45.

Where to eat: Food varies from roasted pigeons sold by street vendors to Peking duck in deluxe restaurants. Eat only cooked foods. Bottled water is a necessity. Take it with you or order hot tea or bottled beverages.

For more information: China National Tourist Office, 600 W. Broadway, Suite 320, Glendale, CA 91204; tel. (818) 545-7507, Internet https://www.cnta.com.