We've been Beijing for several days now, and Barbara's already enjoyed doing a workshop with local college students (see her posting about that). But we've also been wandering about and exploring, and of course in a city this large and interesting and with so much history there's still much we've yet to explore.
The last two days we've walked along two large lakes just northwest of the center of Beijing (the "center" defined by the Forbidden City and Tienanmen Square). We visited both the historic Bell Tower and Drum Tower (in the photo to the right we see Barbara at the Bell Tower), each of which involves climbing a whole lot of steep steps to get to the main attractions within (bells and drums). These sites are centuries old, and were still in use into the early 20th century as a way to keep time in the central city before more modern methods came into use. The Chinese people seem very proud of their long and deep history, still visible today in historic sites, temples, and memories as interpreted in museums and other sites.
At left we see the huge bell itself in the tower. The story that goes along with it is that the official in charge of casting the bell, long ago, had failed in his task several times and was facing beheading. His beautiful daughter arrives just as the workers are going to make one more attempt to cast a bell with the size and deep call that would be needed. She calls out to her father "look at the bird flying so high in the sky," but when he does she leaps into the molten metal waiting for the casting Her father realizes he cannot save her, but is also heart-broken as he gives the command "Cast the Bell!" And, of course, the bell's sound is perfect and beautiful.
The Drum Tower, seen from the Bell Tower, is an even larger building, holding a variety of drums, including several that have been made to the same specifications as the original ones (which made of wood and a single piece of cowhide have not survived the centuries in the way the great bell has). Each hour several drummers take their place (including several women drummers) drum for about ten minutes with a thunderous sound which can be heard for miles (and which is even more impressive for those of us who are standing in the great hall which holds the drums).
As visitors, historical sites like these give us insight into China's very long history and culture, as mentioned above, and why there seems to be great pride taken in the past. On the other hand, on more reflection, there's an interesting paradox here: much of the political and economic and religious traditions local people look back to are also much of the very "feudal" past which the communist movement and and revolution of the 20th century vowed to overturn. Is a nostalgia about the past more easy to combine with an "overcoming" of that past now that modern China has been more or less successfully established? And when the past is more firmly in the past? What to we make of the way in which history is remembered, revised, and imagined by those of us in the past? Are there connections between China in this regard and the way in which we in the U.S. are now often rethinking at least some of our own history and what it means for us today? What we can be proud of and celebrate, and what we may want to think about in new ways?
Something else we noticed as we explored the towers, and the two lakes nearby, is that the towers and the lake closest to them (Houhai Lake) were far more tourist-saturated than our regular life here in China. Most of the time we are the only non-local people where we are: usually on the Metro (subway), in our hotel(s), at small local cafes, and so forth. I'm in fact sometimes startled when I hear someone speaking English. At right we see orange-hatted tour groups (the local man with a white cap is a Muslim, whose dress one sees in local Hui businesses).
At left we see part of the channels near the lakes, on a nice day a wonderful place to stroll. Yet in the areas popular with tourists, things get crowded; we had to watch for lines of rickshaws carrying them along the lake, and many of the small houses along the way had been converted into shops or cafes or bars. When we reached an area further from where tourists wander, we once again found grandmothers playing with kids, older men playing card games by the water--and we were once again "the few" rather than the many. We wondered about the losses as well as gains to locals of the "tourist trade."
I might add a short note here: local folks are sometimes surprised to see us in their midst--perhaps on the Metro, or at a park. They might just stare (at our apparent strangeness?), and one time when we were watching a Tai Chi practice at a park, a little girl (under 2) who was wandering about saw us and came over to just look at us. It felt like she was thinking: "hey people, am I the only one who sees that two alien beings have arrived?" On the other hand, some Chinese folks will say hi if they have some English (some now live in the U.S. and are visiting relatives "back home," or studied in the U.S.), or if they see us smiling at one of their kids whom they love.
I'll end this post with the sight of a 700 year old ginkgo tree near where we've been staying. We'd never seen one anywhere near this old (they're recent to Minnesota, but the climate may not be entirely welcoming).
It's a beautiful tree, a bit awe-inspiring. The plaque nearby describes its history; it has become part of the history of the area.
Until next time!
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