Offically a tourist, offically a local

Photos

I did my first touristy thing this week, which made for some nice photos. Tash and I went to the Temple of Heaven which is just gorgeous. It's in a huge walled area full of trees, a rare spot of quiet and greenery in Beijing. I might go back just as a place to chill for an afternoon. We came in the West Gate which I read was the best way to go in because that is how the Emperor used to enter the Temple. His entrance was a majestic affair which no member of the public was allowed to see. Literally, they were forbidden to look out the window as the procession of elephants, horses, and lots of soldiers went past. And in complete silence too, how they kept lots of horses and elephants quiet I don't know. On pain of death I suppose, if anything went wrong you were executed before you could say "shhhh".

The Emperor would go to the Temple of Heaven twice a year in his duty as Son of Heaven to seek the blessing of the Ruler of the Universe. Firstly at the beginning of the Chinese Lunar calendar to seek the blessing for a fruitful year, and again in the winter solstice to burn sacrifices (read: a whole bullock) and report of the previous harvest. So we saw the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest which was gorgeous and the three tied roof was made without a single nail or screw, just interlocking slats into the columns. It was closed unfortunately, so I don't have pictures of inside. We also saw the Round Altar where as I said they sacrificed, um, whole animals. It was pretty amazing actually to think that so many years ago Emperors were standing where I stood and completed their most sacred rites.

And while out at dinner with Tash that night, we were approached by not one but two groups of people asking us to help them find places so we must have made the look of a local about us, which I was quite proud of actually. I had my bike which probably helped, but I'm sure the air of confidence and assurance surrounding us.

The next step is to speak like a local and in Week 5 I started my Mandarin lessons. I now take classes twice a week, 2 hours a night, for a total of AUS$20 a week. My teacher, Angela, is totally wonderful and I actually look forward to class. I've been taught phonetics three times now but this was the first time I really GOT it. She says my pronunciation is very good but gosh I have to concentrate and still bob my head when concentrating on getting my tones right (imagine one of those bobbing dash ornaments over a 4WD track). My listening skills are not so great but a big part of that is my pitiful vocabulary hopefully. I was having private lessons for awhile while I waited for someone to join my class but now there are actually 6 of us, so we've had to split the class and I'm now waiting for them to catch up with where I am and I'll be back at class soon.

Finally, on the language thread, I wanted to share something I remembered from a few weeks ago. It was when I was still living with friends in apartments almost exclusively full of expatriates due to it's proximity to the embassies (and price). There are a lot of French expatriates there, we'd seen a young boy and girl in the lift once and they were just adorably French, complete with the Coq Sportif on the boys football shirt and the girl with her dress and pigtails.

Anyway, one day I got into the lift with a red haired lady and her two Chinese boys, only a few years old. I'm fairly sure the boys were Chinese not Eurasian, and I've seen a lot of expat couples who have adopted two or three Chinese children so it's fairly common. So she spoke to the boys in French and the eldest boy replied in French. The youngest started to repeat a few of her words over and over as toddlers do when learning to speak. I was rapt with fascination by the juxtaposition of being in China and hearing two little Chinese boys learning French as their (presumably) first language. I mean, I of all people should know to look beyond where people look like they're from, but it entranced me. And the clincher? They got out of the lift before me and I held the door as the little one toddled out, expecting the woman to say "merci" or maybe "thank you" (presuming she would think I was English speaking). But as she left she turned to me with a polite smile and said "xiexie" (thank you). Without missing a beat, I replied "bu keqi" (not at all).

As the lift door closed behind her, I had a very profound moment. With people, as with Life, expect the unexpected because you will never stop being surprised. And that was a wonderful, wonderful feeling.