There was not a sight of the seasons in Beijing that surpassed any others than that of autumn, when the ginko trees turn their unique umbrella shaped leaves yellow overnight. No matter the weather, blue or grey skies, the shade of yellow is electrifying and brings out the amateur photographers, the posers, the professionals to capture the vision in its most dramatic moments.
Having enjoyed a taste of this splendour over the weekend, indeed, the week, when Monday came it felt imperative to find a location in which to continue the search for the perfect fall image. The nearby, famed Taoranting Park seemed a marvellous place to start. The park, created as a public space in the 1950’s, was formed around the Cibei Temple of which the Taoran Pavilion (from whence comes the park’s name) is a part. It was built in the Yuan Dynasty and there some stele stone scripture pillars dating back 900 years to the Liao Dynasty. Within the park there is also The China Garden of Famous Pavilions which has 36 pavilions in total, of which ten are full sized replicas of famous pavilions in China from ten cities covering six provinces. It was indeed a beautiful place to capture the images of fall.
We were immediately assailed by the autumnal colours and it was also not long before I was metaphorically assailed by a local who quoted Shakespeare at me and called me brother. Having achieved everything we wanted from the scene we had tea in local cafe before cycling home.
On Tuesday we had been invited to Peng’s parents for a vegan lunch of a Chinese staple, Hotpot. This basically meant cooking the food in front of us on the table in a tureen of boiling water. They had prepared Bok Choi, spinach, a variety of mushrooms and tofu to cook, along with sesame paste, chilli oil, ginger, garlic and spring onion. It was a delicious meal and the conversation lively and fun. We laughed about the range of food that I can eat than many turns their noses up at, including a Beijing dish of mashed tofu, which they said no one in the family liked other than Peng’s Grandfather, they then qualified it by saying only low people ate it. I heartily agreed they could assume from my tastes that I was low.
I had completely finished decorating the gym by Wednesday and we put everything back where it belonged and I celebrated my work by heading to the cinema, at a mall in Jishuitan, to see a compelling, harsh but moving drama set in northern China in the late 80’s. I was completely drawn into its dystopian world of ‘A Long Shot’.
While the social media of china was awash with images of autumn Thursday actually ushered in the 19th solar term, ‘Lidong’ ,the start of winter and with the noticeable dropping of temperatures, some evenings as low as zero degrees, the heating however was finally being fired up in accordance with government guidelines. One of the locations heralded in the media was a small temple in the foothills of the west mountains, Chici Cheng’en Si and I decided it would make a good outing. I had made the journey to Moshikou before to the ancient tomb of a Eunuch and another famous temple, Fahi, and was familiar with the area. It had seemed very rundown when I had visited in 2021 and I was surprised to find that the area seemed to be thriving post covid, it looked pretty and busy.
The temple itself, though renowned, was small but its two magnificent ginkgo trees and the carpet of leaves had attracted a multitude of influencers and visitors. It also housed a handicrafts museum but this aspect was ignored as leaves were thrown in the air, pictures snapped and the season and moment immortalised. Amusingly it took four perplexed but friendly security guards to let me through. But once I had crossed the threshold I made the most of being inside.
I had noted several places to have tea, but when Peng said he had ordered something from a tea shop and would I pick it up I made my way to his suggested location. I left behind the charming streets of Moshikou for a somewhat grubbier, industrial and futuristic landscape. I had a tea did some work and then headed home on the subway. As I was leaving Niujie Station a young school girl smiled and waved at me. I could see that she was thrilled to have connected briefly with a laowai and as she skipped off home, my silly old heart skipped a beat.
It was now a habit for us to consult ‘Beijing Bites’ and go for a meal and on Friday, when for the fourth time we had randomly opened the page at the time honoured, state run Fengchunlou Lou restaurant, which had been serving food since 1956 we decided we had to go. Other than its longevity I was not really sure why it was recommended restaurant. It certainly had a charm with its middle aged workers and its basic food a bowl of egg soup, Yuxiang Eggs and a traditional homestyle Tofu dish and made for a satisfying if not slightly uncomfortable meal. The chef, made a point of coming out of the kitchen to watch us eat his food and one of the waitresses told me I was very handsome. It was in a remote residential area of south Beijing and I can only assume that I may well have been the only laowai to enter the hall.
I had an online English class on Saturday with my young 9 year old student who speaks English like a national and after the lesson I headed out to Chaoyangmen to another famous hutong. 11 Fangjiayuan was the former residence of Prince Gui and promised to be a glamorous place. I was really looking forward to seeing this celebrated home. Sadly, I discovered on arrival that it is not open to the public and I was unable to see anything other than its tawdry gate, and its equally tawdry surroundings. I settled instead for a wander around the hutong, saw a temple which was closed and enjoyed a rice tea and osmanthus rice cake in the smart Fulu cafe.
On Sunday I was up at 5.30 am to get a flight to Hong Kong where Peng had business. We flew from Beijing City airport and arrived safely in Hong Kong around 13.30. The hotel was a Marriot Bonvoy so I was surprised at check in by the questions asked by the concierge. I am often quizzed by people, occasionally told, what the attitude in China is to LGBTQ relationships. I remind them that unlike the UK it has never been against the law here . Having travelled all over China and shared a room and bed together in many hotels in some very remote areas and we have never been asked about the room arrangement, so it was quite a surprise, indeed a shock to be questioned by the concierge. “So there are two of you in one room?” Yes “Do you know there is only one bed?”. Quite a surprising observation in a so called cosmopolitan city to two men sharing a room. Despite there being little of the day left we journeyed to Kowloon central to eat and walk along the harbour. It was very busy compared to my stay in January and after a spending spree in their Fortnum and Masons, we explored the K11 Malls Musea full of premium stores, a cinema, of course, and art.
It is tiring traveling and we headed back to the hotel in the New Territories for a drink and an early night. Winter had certainly arrived in Beijing, in Hong Kong the temperature told a different story and while Lidong wove its way into the days there was little sign of its impact amongst the shorts and tee shirts of the metropolis.
