BEIJING IS HAPPY AND GAY
I did not expect to see a pair of lesbians taking photos dressed in Western wedding garments on the banks of the Qianhai Lake, just north of the Forbidden City. Then again, I did not expect to see Beijing so beautiful, tidy, and welcoming. It has been close to 25 years since my last visit to the capital, the People’s Republic of China. What did I expect? A better-managed version of Afghanistan?
The bad ol’ days
Back in February 2001, Beijing was a mess. A fascinating mess to be sure, but still, a 3rd world megacity full of soot, pollution, and construction. Think of Bangkok, but larger, messier, and colder. Much, much colder. With the memory of my last visit still fresh, I packed a thick down coat, a pair of gloves, and a mask. One cannot be too safe. I flew over to the Tokyo Motorcycle show and the Beijing Motorcycle show held two weeks later. In between, I had meetings lined up in Japan, Korea, and China with a free weekend to boost. Did I tell you I love my job?
Cherry blossom, anyone?
If you read my post about the fickle Cherry Blossom period in Japan, you would know it’s a scam on a global scale (if you didn’t, read it now). For reasons that are beyond me, folks around the world have elevated Sakura to the status of a Bucket List item. They plan their trip to coincide precisely with the date of peak blossom week. Book expensive flights and hotel rooms months, if not years, in advance (prices during the season are a daylight robbery), and tell everyone they know about it. Reality, on the other hand, is painfully dim.
Cherries grow their flowers and shed them in about two weeks’ time. The exact date changes each year according to the temperatures of the preceding few weeks. A cold March this year? Tough luck! Your Sakura just got delayed. Please enjoy the bare twigs and the damp, chilly weather of Tokyo. I mean, this city gets close to 2,000mm (about 80 inches) of rain a year. Your chances of seeing sunshine in late March are about the same as a JR train arriving late at the Shinjuku Station.
The land of the occasionally rising sun
I know all of this because I’ve been to the Tokyo Motorcycle Show four times, which is held every year in late March – just smack in the middle of the (forecasted) peak blossom.
Two years out of the four, it happened either before or after the planned date. And the rest? Well, it’s rainy, and cold, and gray, and the trees are nice. Just “nice”. Save your bucket list to climb to the top of Mount Everest, or drive the “green Hell” of the Nürburgring Nordschleife.
Having frozen my bones solid while riding a Ducati Diavel V4 in five degrees and heavy rain all the way back from Hamamatsu to Tokyo (a story I will share in a future post), I was naturally bracing myself for the worst, boarding a flight on April 1st to Beijing. Landing, I realized I miscalculated. Grossly.
Chinese surprise
To my amazement, this megacity of 22 million residents proved warm, sunny, beautiful, and nothing like anything I had remembered. Lucky me. With a free, sunny weekend between sets of business meetings, I was looking forward to making the most of my free time in Beijing. Consulting with the Fairmont Hotel’s concierge, I planned a Saturday morning visit to the famous Temple of Heaven, just south of the Forbidden City, followed by an afternoon at the reconstructed Shichahai neighborhood just north of the city center.
Sunday would be devoted entirely to visiting the Summer Palace, a ginormous complex of epic proportions (scr** you Versailles!), on the northwest outskirts of town.
Arriving at the gate of the Temple of Heaven around 11am, I realized I was overdressed and underprotected. With a surprisingly warm early April sun beating down on my head, I was short of a hat and sunscreen. The latter was quickly procured from a nearby pharmacy using an AliPay app – an absolute must for any visitor to China. Having covered my pale skin, I tied my warm sweatshirt around my waist, paid the 34rmb (about $5) entry fee, and ventured inside.
Inside Heaven
Many words have been written about this massive complex of temples and gardens. In reality, well, it really is massive. And beautiful. And extremely crowded. No, not by camera-wielding foreign tourists, the place is packed to the roof with locals. Amazed at first, I started to run the basic math. China has a population of 1.4 billion. A tiny, insignificant portion of these 1.4 have chosen April ‘25’s first Saturday to visit the Temple of Heaven. That would make for… quite a lot of people, actually.
It’s nice to feel like a celebrity every now and then. I soon discovered that, for me, the time was now. The first guy who asked to take a photo with me did it quite sheepishly. The others that came after were a bit more confident. All in all, I think I’ve made it into at least ten different local social media accounts. Then I noticed the trees around me in full bloom. All of them, mind you, way more impressive than any soggy cherry tree back at Ueno Park, Tokyo.
Walking around the premises, I noticed another strange spectacle. My first impulse was to grab my camera, but then I saw another, and another, and another. Armies of little 19th-century Empress Dowager Xici roam around with folding fans and smartphones. One should wonder, as the original article wasn’t much to admire.
A century of shame
At best, Empress Dowager Xici, who dominated China’s late 19th-century politics, was a controversial historical figure. Often portrayed as both cunning and commanding, the ruthless noblewoman was a xenophobic arch-conservative who refused to come to terms with the changing times. Think Louise the 16th of France, but with a more intimidating nail job. The realm under her unofficial rule was but a shadow of its former glory. As the 19th century came to a close, the decrptic empire was out of touch and outgunned; a worthy mincemeat for any would-be 2nd rate colonial empire. What followed was a century of shame. A period in which China was relegated to the back seat of international politics, and this was when it wasn’t occupied outright, and its population massacred.
You can argue the facts, but for most Chinese, this ordeal of misery ended with the assent of Mao and the Chinese Communist Party. Mao and his team went on to build a new Chinese society that was to be every bit the opposite of the corrupt and decaying China during the rule of Xici and the last emperors of the Qing dynasty. Sure, there were Mao’s ill-fated “Great Leap Forward” and the “Cultural Revolution”, but as long as you’re inside the People’s Republic (and know what’s good for you), please keep the above opinion to yourself.
Xici is back!
This brings me back to the multiple 21st-century Xicies roaming around the Temple of Heaven. Call it irony, feminine power, Chinese nationalism, role-playing in the age of instant social media, whatever. Xici is back, big time! One can only imagine the old witch turning in her grave had she known the instant-consumption status her memory inspired. Come to think about it, I bet Mao would have turned in his grave as well.
But let us leave these stuck-up tyrants in whatever mausoleum they’re buried and return to this pleasant April weekend. Concluding the visit to the Temple of Heaven with a “must visit” mark on the Beijing to-do list, it was time to visit my next weekend destination – The Shichahai (not to be confused with Shanghai) neighborhood. To get there, all you need to do is hop on the local Subway network at Tiantan Dogmen station, take line #5 north for five stops until you get to Dongsi. There, change to line #6 and travel one stop westwards to Nanluogu Xiang station. Get out at the Di’anmen avenue exit, and cross to the other side (beware of coming traffic, they stop for no one short of a semi-trailer), and you’re there!
I know it must sound like complete Chinese. All I have to say in my defense is:
- It is.
- In reality, navigation of the Beijing subway system is much easier than it sounds. If you happen to be a bit adventurous and possess some basic navigation skills, you’ll get it faster than pronouncing xièxie (thanks) correctly.
Shichahai chic
Just north of the Forbidden City, Shichahai neighborhood had become somewhat of a local attraction. Famous for its scenic lakes, manicured canals, and remnants of old-style local residences, the place should be ideal for a relaxed afternoon hangout. As a matter of fact, Shichahai is the only open scenic area with open water in the innercity. It also doubles as the largest and most well-preserved historical district in the capital. In short, the place is indeed beautiful, but crowded, especially during a sunny, warm weekend afternoon.
It was about 3pm when I left the subway station at Nanluogu, crossed the bustling Di’anmen Avenue (without being run over), and landed smack at the Tonghuihe Relic Site.
The relic is nothing to write home about. It does happen to mark the beginning of the most beautiful canal in Beijing. Early April is the best time to stroll its banks. Blue trees, White trees, Pink trees, Red trees, all in all, a mesmerizing cacophony of colors. Don’t believe me? It’s ok. I didn’t believe my eyes at first. Still think Japanese Cherry Blossom beats Beijing’s spring? I bet you are the kind of traditionalist who believes vinyl records are better than digital copies.
Black & white in a sea of colors
Walking the canal towards the lake, I couldn’t help but imagine how this place must have looked back in 2001. I’m almost certain it was a squalid, filthy, stinky, fly-infested quagmire. None of that in 2025. If there ever was a proof of Beijing’s (and China’s) newfound wealth, I bet Shichahai would be somewhere on top of the evidence list.
Admiring the colors and surrounded by hordes of Xicies, I came across a Western-dressed couple in their wedding gowns. This black and white duo was in such stark dissonance from the loud jumble of colors surrounding them to make them stand out like Darth Vader in a sea of Barbies. I didn’t want to intrude, but the urge to take a few pictures overcame me. To their credit, they played along. After perhaps the second photo, I knoticed another thing that stood out. Both “bride” and “groom” were women.
Later I read that while China has made some progress in LGBT rights, with homosexuality decriminalized in 1997 and removed from the list of mental disorders in 2001, legal protections and societal acceptance still lag behind. “What a brave stand”, I thought to myself as I headed towards the large (and beautiful) Qianhai lake.
On the banks of Qianhai
Circumnavigating the lake amid the throngs of weekend Xici warriors, I came to reflect on the concept of “authenticity”. Can a teenager dressed like a 19th-century figurine, for no reason but her own pleasure, be considered authentic? Can a throwback social media fad be inauthentic? After all, this bustling scene was not created to entertain a foreigner like me, so does that make it “real?” After completing half of a full circle (and bumping into a few bystanders, while contemplating), I still don’t have an answer. Perhaps it’s an issue that does not need answering, or was it the view of two impressive towers just north of Shichahai that has cut my philosophical mode short?
Beijing is a planned city. Just look at the map. With the seat of the emperor inside the Forbidden City in its center, Beijing expands outwards in a series of carefully layered rings. A more careful look will also reveal a central axis running south to north, starting with the Temple of Heaven and moving northwards to the famous (or infamous) Tiananmen Square, The Forbidden City, and ending at the two towers just next to Qianan Lake.
Two towers to tell the time
The Drum Tower and Bell towers are two massive 50m high wood and brick structures towering, literally, over their surroundings. Built some 700 years ago, they were used up until 1912, and the dethronement of the last emperor, to tell the time. About 100 meters apart, each tower is made of two floors. The drum tower, the southern and closer to the neighborhood of the two, has access to the top floor from which one can enjoy some very impressive views of the city. It also has the largest set of big drums in town. I resisted the urge and did not try them out.
To the north, and a little out of the way, lies the bell tower. It houses, well, a very big bell on its top floor. With 7 meters across and weighing just shy of 63 tons, it should make for a very loud ding! As with the previous drum tower, I did not try to ring the bell Quasimodo-style. Though given its sheer size, I’m pretty positive I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. The clearing between the towers is full of street artists as well as its fair share of Xicies. Further north of the bell tower is another gorgeous string of flowering trees ending at the Doufuchi Hu Tong road. Beyond that, an almost hidden entry leads you into a lovely courtyard lined with coffee shops. Coffee is a new foreign trend. I guess it’s to balance out the throwback nationalistic Xici fad.
The late afternoon inner courtyard was great. The coffee, however, was not up to the same standard. Next time, I’ll order tea.
Next, The Summer Palace
The following day I departed to the Summer Palace, on the city’s northwest outskirts. It’s a massive and beautiful depiction of absolute folly. I mean, who digs a two-square-kilometers artificial lake, and then uses the dug-out rubble to create an artificial 60m hill and builds a giant palace complex on top of it? I guess it’s the same folks who siphoned some 60 million silver tallies from the Chinese navy budget to construct a fake navy to sail on the artificial lake. Honestly, I’m not making this sh** up. The result of all these follies was a “century of shame” whose memory the local youth now try to erase by dressing up like the same decrepit rulers who brought it on China in the first place… man, this place is confusing!
I’ll cover the full, and somewhat surreal, experience of the summer palace in a future post.
