The Book Collection of Public Morality

…..is on the second floor of the gigantic Beijing Bookstore.

Compared to the long alleyways of books in adjoining sections on art, calligraphy and children’s fiction, the Public Morality section is quite small and delightfully eclectic.

There are a lot of cartoon books of folk history, with covers featuring rippling muscled heroes, in purple embroidered robes, hair in a top-knot and clutching fearsome curved swords.

Next to those is one copy of Pickwick Papers, in Chinese.   There’s never any shortage of morality in Dickens’ writing but I wonder what readers here make of Dingley Dell and Augustus Snodgrass.

And then several Chinese editions of Horrible Science, including Explosive Experiments.

Up to the 4th floor and more curious sights.

Along one wall are hung very expensive, meter square, metal maps of the world, etched in black and gold and in chunky ornate frames.

And below the pictures, lying on the floor, 3 old men fast asleep, curled up on dirty blankets and newspaper.  They look like beggars, ragged, dark skinned, the map of their own tough lives etched deep on their faces.

Now you don’t see any of that in Waterstones……………………

Fragrant Hills and Heaps of Followers

The cobbled street leading to the gates of Fragrant Hills Park lives up to the name.

Steamy wafts pour off chestnut burners, hot dog stands, sizzling sticks of unidentifiable once-living small creatures and congeal into a general aroma of heat and meat outside a huge Macdonalds.

This is one of Beijing’s most popular spots in Autumn when the hillsides to the west of the capital become a vast swathe of red and gold.  Hoping to avoid the weekend masses I went on Friday.  Silly hope.  It was of course packed.

hardly a queue at all……..

I queued for almost an hour to get on the cable car, having promised myself I’d walk down but not up.  And it’s a long way up – a good 15 minutes swaying above the solid line of those trudging up the steep paths and steps.  It took me an hour and a half to walk down so it must be a good two hour slog up.

The full glory of autumn isn’t here yet.  The foliage is still only a patchwork of green, yellow and occasional flickers of red but it’s still a jolly day out.

To one side of the park is Biyun Temple with its ancient stone pagoda and Hall of 500 Arhats.

I’m a big fan of Arhats.  They’re the “enlightened followers” of Buddha and there are always statues of them in temples, usually lines of six or eight on the walls either side of the main religious statue.  But in at least four places in China there are these extraordinary Halls of 500 Arhats.

I’ve seen them in Hangzhou – where they are larger than life sized and bronze.

In Chongqing – gloriously painted terracotta figures.  And Wuhan – smaller and also bronze.

Arhats in Hangzhou

Now here are the 500 – each a different figure, face and posture – in gilded wood.

and in Chongqing

and their Beijing brothers

The halls are always the same format – lines of figures create dark corridors in four directions – sunshine creeps in above their heads but the Arhats are usually an atmospheric bunch, incredibly lifelike, slightly comical, occasionally fierce and always compelling viewing.     

How to avoid a disastrous weekend

The bus was so packed that I wasn’t sure I’d seen the sign correctly – just a glimpse through the density of heads, shoulders,arms and backpacks of day-trippers wedged onto the No. 360 heading back into the middle of Beijing late on Friday afternoon.

Had we really just gone past a “Disaster Prevention Theme Park”?

Yes it really exists

So these pix come from the internet.  I did not leap off the bus to check out its delights for myself.  And funnily enough at the next nearest stop no one got on the bus.

Maybe the fascinated crowds were still inside.

 

Apparently as well as being “entertaining and educational” in preventing disaster – it doubles as an emergency shelter.

What a fab mix of optimism and pragmatism.

 

 

Tick tock time stops

An old fashioned lamp-post always triggers the same response in me – tick tock time stops.  There might not be a wardrobe full of fusty furs leading to Narnia but I always hope a good lamp-post marks an entry to a different time.

…see what I mean?

And so it is – in the area around Beijing’s bell and drum towers.

And so it should be – because the mighty bell and massive watch-drums were the time-keepers of ancient epochs.The east-west running narrow alleys of traditional single storey homes surrounding them are known as hutongs.

Peer into gateways and you’ll see a jumble of bikes and washing, surrounded by trailing plants and mounds of unidentifiable “stuff” .

Many of the old neighbourhoods have been – and are still being – demolished in the modernisation rush while now being recognised as historically and culturally valuable, attracting tourists and – Oh yes – people still live there.  These are homes.

It’s a wonderful wander especially on a clear sunny October afternoon.  Or you could opt for a trike tour but then you don’t get to peer through gateways or have a chat with an old man – when I say chat I really mean shared smiles and hand gestures – about the tangle of flowering marrow above his door.

And of course the bell and drum towers – repeatedly burnt to the ground and rebuilt/restored from the C13th onwards –  are worth the incredibly steep steps leading to the platforms. The bell rang out to mark the 5 sections of the night – the drums were also used to tell the local populace the time.

Every hour there are short drumming performances – very atmospheric in the high vaulted, red-beamed hall.

And smiley, enthusiastic, sash-wearing local teenagers offer a free explanation – in remarkably good English and beam with delight if you agree to stop and let them give your their spiel.  

loft extension Beijing style

Happy ears – tired eyes and feet

The huge slab of a building along one side of Tiananmen Square – surrounded by other equally vast, dull, rectangular structures – gives no indication of the exquisite treasures inside.

My capacity to “do” museums is pretty limited so I went into China’s National Museum partly because I thought I ought to – another paragraph to tick off in Lonely Plant.  And was totally enthralled by what I found.

Astonishing bronze food and wine ornate containers – some barrel sized – with dragons, tigers and birds twisted into handles and spouts – from several thousand years ago.  Delicate Buddhist statues – in gold, bronze,pottery and wood – arching their multitude of limbs into graceful poses.

By the time it got to the Ming porcelain – however gorgeous – it all felt a bit more predictable.  Cultural indigestion set in.

But having traced the history of China through eight different epochs – a total surprise awaited.  An exhibition to celebrate the bicentennial of Verdi’s birth – in October 1813.

Headphones dangled in front of each operatic display – and from them poured all the very best bits – never mind the long recitatives and librettos  – this was Verdi for dummies like me – all the good tunes from Nabucco, Rigoletto, Il trovatore and La traviata.   The bits that make you feel less of a philistine because you recognise them even though you know nothing about opera.

And however rewarding it had been to slog through several millennium of Chinese history – it was the last forty minutes or so – cans jammed to my ears – that energised me to push my way home on the packed subway.

A potentially embarrassing confusion

In a long queue for the supermarket checkout I shuffled through an alleyway of condoms.  Seven rows of shelves lined the last few steps to the till.  Of course the packaging is nearly all in Chinese – all I could see in English was “Durex”, along with “12”.

Apart from the top two shelves.  Those packets – similar colours and style – were labelled 5. The only English was a large ad above them, announcing “Indulge your senses”.

It was only when I peered at the computer bar chart, stuck on the shelf, showing the price that I saw in very tiny print “sugar free gum”.

That could lead non Chinese speakers to some very sticky moments.

Heavenly Blues

More riches of colour.  This is the amazing Temple of Heaven – where generations of Emperors came to sacrifice animals to the Gods in return for rain and good crops.

 

And according to yesterday’s TV news – the “mega tat” 40 foot high bowl of fruit and flowers -put up to celebrate National Day was in fact “scaled down” on previous year’s decorations,  in accordance with Government policy on austerity and anti-corruption.

Merely midi-tat