[July 11, 2009.]I climbed approximately 553 staircase steps today at the Summer Palace. That's not counting the ones I climbed before I got it in my head to count my steps, or the ones I climbed back up or down for a second time. So probably nearing 600. To most people, that's probably not that many, but to me, that's a damn hell of a lot. I'm weak and lazy, what can I say? Great workout, huh? The steps leading up to the Buddhist temple - the one at the top that I forgot the name of - were the worst - two stretches of 50 steps. If anyone plans to visit it in the future, I would highly advise bringing a sled to save time and energy on the way back down.
All in all it was a really beautiful type of place, though still crawling with tourists. There were people selling the exact same brand and flavor of ice cream as the ones at Tien'anmen, except later on there turned out to be more variety. The bathrooms were a lot better too - you didn't have to pay, and you could actually control when it flushed, and there was actually toilet paper, though it was just a single dispenser by the entryway to the stalls, that everyone lined up to take some from. Besides the aforementioned sled, add to your list of highly advised items to bring your own toilet paper (BYOTP, sorry, I couldn't help myself); and also, really, just automatically breathe through your mouth any time you're in a public bathroom in China.
There was actually a lot to do at the Summer Palace, all types of old buildings to see and trails to walk and a man-made lake and such; and you could take a boat out on the lake, which is what we did, except it was one of the big ornate boats that only went to the other side and didn't drift about like the smaller ones. The boat disembarked at either the island or the other bank, I really can't say for sure, I only remember there was a bridge leading from it to a third bank, so maybe it was an island after all. Anyway.
I think the bridge and what happened after are the best part of being in China so far. In the center of the Bridge of 17 Arches, I stopped for a bit to put my arms on the stone railing and my chin on my hands to stare down at the water. It was beautiful. I think all water looked down on from the center of a bridge directly over it can't help but be beautiful. Then I turned my head to the side and looked at all the little boats on the water, the pedalboats and rowboats, and I gazed out for a while and I could see the people that passed me looking at me strangely. There was this haze over the water, like the haze in the city - I thought it was the pollution at first, but this haze was the heaviest I'd seen so far, and it was over a lake, so I really don't know anymore. But the little boats in the distance were so lovely draped in that haze and it all seemed like a dream, and as I gazed over the water and all its ripples and the drifting boats, I felt as if that moment would never end. Beautiful. I've felt like moments that never end come with a pleasant frequency in China. Or at least, much more frequent than in America.
That's the upside to all that haze. It blocks out the sun so you can't track its movement across the sky, so the whole day could probably be a moment that never ended if you wanted it to be. As we walked the rest of the way down the bridge, I looked up at the sky and saw a kite! Two kites, except I thought the second was a bird at first. Beautifulbeautiful. I pointed excitedly to the sky and was pleased to note that I was the first on the bridge to notice. The kite fliers were on the bank we were heading toward. The third one, just going up a little bit after I'd seen the first two, was a flapping red one shaped like a fish, and the fourth was a more conventional triangular one colored black and purple. As I watched the kites, I noticed three more that were hidden in the haze slowly materialize from it. They were so far up!
Even in a country with such moments that never end as these, the ones that look at the sky, I feel, are still mysteriously in the minority. I suppose I'll always be some kind of outsider; I always have been, after all. I was brooding over this yesterday as I sat on my freebie paper on the ground at Tien'anmen, and how people would snap their heads around at me when I spoke English (even American tourists do, to see who else is speaking English, so I started making a point of saying something in English whenever I spotted an American tourist, I'm not sure why, maybe I don't want them to feel alienated, because I used to have frequent depressive spells that arose out of feeling alienated, and I actually fit in here for the most part). And anyway, people in America snap their heads around at me when I speak Chinese, so no matter what, some part of me will always have others snapping their heads round. But I suppose I can live with that.
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