Back to “Western” China

Upon reaching Shanghai after 10 days in Beijing and Xi’an, my comfort level soared. The latter two places are clearly Chinese cities. Westerners are welcome, but they are clearly “other.” Shanghai is a more cosmopolitan place, a mix of east and west with a splash of sophistication.

In some ways it’s very similar to Hong Kong, with a thriving consumer culture – and taxi drivers who don’t speak much English. But from what I understand, Shanghai isn’t a city that worships work with 12-hour days as the standard. There seems to be time for play, too.

I flew into Pudong International Airport and took the renowned Maglev (for magnetic levitation) train to its endpoint. The train reaches speeds of 430 kph and actually banks as it goes around curves, although the passengers don’t feel it. Very nifty.

Rather than stay in a hotel, which gets tiring and impersonal after a while, I found a serviced apartment to rent for the week and am thrilled with it. I can cook or not, and I have a bit of space to spread out. Since it’s the off season, I got a great deal, as I have throughout this trip. China is not a winter vacation hotspot.

Day One was spent at the Shanghai Museum and on the Bund. The Shanghai Museum is home to wonderful collections of ceramics, bronzes, seals and calligraphy, plus a gallery featuring costumes worn by a variety of minority ethnic groups. Interestingly, most Chinese museums that I’ve visited don’t frown upon photography, so I was able to take shots of some of the stunning pieces on display. If I can’t take the pottery home with me, this is the next best thing.

The Bund is the street that fronts the Huangou River to the west, and it is renowned for its early 20^th century commercial architecture. In its heyday, it was home to the most prestigious banks, exclusive clubs, grand hotels and commercial enterprises.  Today, it still houses many banks, including the Bank of China, and upscale hotels like the Waldorf Astoria.

The avenue itself is wide, with equally spacious sidewalks and landscaped park areas, but the city has brilliantly erected an elevated promenade along the riverfront that has become a destination. Vendors sell ice cream and drinks and people stroll to look at the Bund and the skyline of Pudong across the way. (Toronto, are you listening?) Everyone has access to the riverfront, and they definitely take advantage!

Across the way is Pudong, the new district of Shanghai, home to a number of corporate headquarters. Thirty years ago, I’m told, this area was just fields. Today, it is a field of skyscrapers and interesting architecture. So, a walk along the promenade is an architectural feast for the eyes, no matter which way one looks.

Day Two took me to the French Concession, an area that was home to ambassadors and expatriates, along with well-to-do Shanghainese, at the same time the Bund was flourishing. It is reminiscent of Forest Hill in Toronto or Short Hills in New Jersey, with a bit more commercial activity thrown in. It has many large, stately homes of brick or stucco, plus some low-rise apartments mixed in, and lots of chic boutiques and fine dining.

I landed there first for a cooking class – I’ve decided this is a wonderful way to meet people and learn more about the city and the food – and stayed to wander the streets. Very pleasant and even within walking distance of my apartment – if you don’t mind a bit of a walk.

I find people here more fluent in English than they were in Beijing, and they are just as nice and willing to help. In fact, today for the first time, someone stopped while I was perusing my map and asked if I needed help. This hasn’t happened in China or in HK previously!

Aside from my cooking class, I haven’t dived into the food in a big way yet, but I have been a regular at the stand that sells bao (steamed buns). The red bean variety is divine!

So, on to days three through seven. I’m sure they’ll be equally enjoyable.

Seeing Xi'an

I was skeptical at first. Was there really much to see in Xi’an aside from the warriors?

After a lovely day wandering through the core of the old city (within the walls erected thousands of years ago), the answer is yes, It’s a great place to spend a low-key day.

I arrived by high-speed train from Beijing on Sunday evening, and the huge railway station was almost empty. No one to ask about the distance to the hotel. A taxi driver approached me, and I agreed to his price for a ride, once we were able to communicate about where I wanted to go. I hauled out the tour guide and showed him the Chinese characters, and he called over another guy who knew a bit of English. The second man put on his glasses so he could read the name of the hotel and try to communicate it. When they had agreed, my driver phoned the hotel, which was actually next to my hotel, and handed me the phone. I asked the woman on the other end to explain that her hotel was right near mine, and she did. That settled, we set off through crazy traffic.

China has moved into the automobile age, but the rules of the road are sketchy and there are bicycles and motorized cabs to contend with. It’s not a smooth ebb and flow and it’s amazing to watch. Luckily, everyone seems to keep an eye out for pedestrians! During rush hour, there are traffic wardens at busy intersections, wearing fluorescent vests and holding back turning cars so people can cross. Wild!

Once I left the hotel in the morning, I headed to the Muslim quarter. The Hui Muslims have lived in Xi’an for about 13 centuries, and many of them live, work and pray in the quarter.( Unlike their Uighur brethren elsewhere in China, the Hui speak Chinese, and as far as I know, don’t face (open) discrimination.)

What a happening place! I felt as if I were back in Hong Kong at a street market. The small shops all have employees out front cooking or displaying wares, and the streets are narrow, but shared with bicycles, motorized cabs and motorcycles pulling wagons. Horns blare and pedestrians move out of the way for fear of getting mowed down.

The Hui men wear white caps and some of the women wear veils or veils covering hats. They have white skin and rosy cheeks, with round faces – a distinctive look.

I wandered the streets, amazed by the variety of food on offer. There were kebabs made of lamb and beef, and some with chicken that was cut in rings, not cubes. There were various flatbreads and various fried patties filled with mixtures of meat and vegetables – yum. I tried something that was an small, fried orange disk and it was sweet – it turned out to be a delicious persimmon cake. I also tried a cube of something I thought might be halvah, but it was a bean paste. Not quite as yummy.

People were sitting at outdoor tables on one of the wider streets eating the traditional soup: yangrou paomo, a mutton broth with translucent noodles into which one crumbles round disks of bread. I tried it for dinner in the evening – and the quarter was still hopping! I went into a restaurant and the woman at the till sat me with a couple who didn’t speak any English, but tried to show me the ropes anyway. They were darling, and I followed their lead by adding some hot pepper sauce to the soup.( I’m getting better at the hot stuff!) The owner also treated me to a dish of pickled garlic, which was yummy, too, and no one would led me leave a tip. Needless to say, there were many thank-yous on my part!

I indulged in a massage for my weary body in the afternoon and felt revived afterward. I decided to walk the old city wall, starting at the South Gate. It gives a view of the old part of the city and the new, which is largely skyscrapers and wide streets. The city apparently had a population of 1 million in the 1980s, all living inside the walls. Today, the population is 10 million and the city sprawls far beyond its earlier limits.

 I walked on the wall, which was wide enough to fit six carriages side-by-side, and came across two young women cycling along. They stopped to talk with me briefly, and were excited to learn that I was Canadian. They were shy and rode off, but kept catching up to me. I asked to take their picture, which must have reassured them, because they then rode alongside me until I left the wall, telling me about their studies and one’s desire to study in England after university. She was soooo excited to meet me: her second foreigner! Imagine never coming across anyone other than your fellow Chinese. After living in large, cosmopolitan cities, it seems unreal.

I also learned from the signs that rooflines, like headgear, were a sign of status and hierarchy. Only the emperor could have a Wudian roof, but the roofs on the gates of the Xi’an wall were only a step below in status. Very cool.

Speaking of cool, people here thought it was cold, but wow, after Beijing’s 10 below and the chill on the Great Wall, 2C is almost summery! And I’m certainly prepared now, clothingwise. Perfect temperature for walking – although I believe the hazy sky wasn’t doing my lungs any good. It’s pollution, alas: a combination of coal-burning power plants, vehicle exhaust and charcoal used for heating and cooking. I wonder about the impact on life expectancy.

Today was terracotta warrior day! I had a restless night, too excited to sleep well.

My guide, Bryan (Chen), met me in the lobby and we hopped into Mr. Wong’s car and headed to the outskirts of the city. Bryan has been leading tours for a number of years and he knows the ins and outs. We arrived before the bus tours so we could get a close-up look without much in the way of crowds. Apparently, in summer, you’re lucky to get a glimpse or two of the display area, but winter is much saner. I was able to linger, move around and take all the photos I wanted.

The warriors are amazing! They are a bit larger than life so as to impress at a distance, and not one of the approximately 2,000 on display is identical. There are soldiers of all ranks – and file – dressed in clothing appropriate to their ranks and missions. Shoes vary, headdresses vary, hairstyles vary, armour varies ... and that’s even without looking at facial features and moustaches.

The site of them en masse is awe-inspiring, and it’s also exciting to see the area where the archeologists are piecing together more of them. There are a number of pits at the site yet to be unearthed. It’s slow, painstaking work, but the result is stunning.

Bryan tells me the warriors were built by hand, using coiling and done in parts, which would be fired separately and then put together. The detail is marvelous – each plate of armour is distinct, and strands of hair are clear, too. Wow! I would have liked to climb into the pit and chat with them face to face, but alas, it isn’t allowed. Thank heavens for telephoto lenses.

Although the warriors were the true highlight of the day, we also visited an ancient village site in Xi’an that dates back 6,000 years. Archaeologists are still working on it, but it was a matriarchal society and it was fascinating to see the places where the shelters stood and to realize how advanced the people were so far back in history. Fishing, hunting, sewing, creating pots ... no problem.

Our final stop was the Big Goose Pagoda, dedicated to a Chinese scholar who travelled to India on foot thousands of years ago and returned with an impressive depth of knowledge of Buddhism. His trip and his writings are renowned and revered, and the pagoda is where he worked on translations of Buddhist texts from Sanskrit to Chinese.

As we entered, there was some fanfare for a Buddhist monk who was visiting. An added treat.

So, Xi’an turned out to be a treat, and having a guide added some depth to my understanding of the area. Tomorrow, it’s off to Shanghai and a very different experience.

Bye, bye Beijing!

One more sleep, as they say, and it’s off to Xian by high-speed train.

I have enjoyed Beijing very much, and would love to come back in warmer weather to see the Summer Palace and see some of the temples I missed. But, I’ve done quite a bit and enjoyed most of it – with the exception of the night I spent in a hutong hotel that had no central heating and just a tiny space heater for the room.

Picture me sleeping in long underwear AND pajamas, plus hat, gloves and booties. Very sexy! I wrapped myself in the two quilts in the room and managed to sleep, but no email that night – my hands were too cold. Needless to say, I moved hotels the following day. A good lesson for winter in Beijing – always ensure that there will be heat and hot water!

In addition to the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square and the National Museum of Art, my sightseeing mission here included the 798 Art District. It is an old factory area of Beijing that has been turned into an arts hub, with about 40 or so galleries located in a few square blocks of factory buildings and other spaces. I saw some lovely Chinese contemporary work – including an exhibition at Pace Beijing – and stumbled upon a gallery showing the work of Louise Bourgeois, the American feminist artist. I’ve seen her work in NYC and elsewhere, so it was quite a surprise.

Just as interesting was a gallery featuring work from the Democratic People’s  Republic of Korea (N. Korea). It’s not something I’d see in the Western world very often, and it was quite interesting. The work was largely brush painting, some with a modern twist, although there was one oil depicting the Korean War. The exhibit also featured an wall full of photos of Korea’s new leader, Kim Jong-un, visiting many factories and taking part in official ceremonies. Weird to find such an emphasis on the politics of the country as part of an art show.

I also took a cooking class, something suggested by one of my colleagues as a way to get a different insight into the culture. It was a wonderful idea. There were only four of us in the class: a German, a Brit, an Australian and me. The teacher was a Sichaun native who has lived in Beijing for years, and we helped her create three dishes: one Sichuanese, one Yunanese and one typical of Beijing. As we worked we learned about Chinese cooking philosophy and shared some of our own experiences.

As it turned out, I hit it off with the Australian traveller, and she invited me to join her and a friend for a Mongolian hotpot dinner. I’d done a hotpot meal in HK, but this featured the traditional brazier heated with charcoal. We had a lovely evening of cooking, eating and chatting.

Today, I indulged the sports fan side of myself and visited the 2008 Olympic sites: the famous Bird’s Nest Stadium and the Water Cube. Both are architectural delights. The Bird’s Nest is used as a snow park for kids during the winter with a snow ramp, a tubing area and giant snowmen. 

The Water Cube is used for swimming lessons and lap swims. It was fun to wander through them and think back to 2008. Wow, time flies.

So, tomorrow, on to Xian and the terracotta warriors. Beijing has been good to me, and here’s hoping that Xian is the same.

The Great Wall

Five-thirty a.m. came early. I imagine it always does, but I can’t speak from recent experience. My tiny new 30 renminbi (4 dollar) alarm clock did its job and I awakened on time.

I waited outside the door of the inn for the pickup, beginning at about 6, even though it wasn’t until 6:15. I saw a couple of old women walking by and earned smiles in return for mine. I also saw a women in the equivalent of a housecoat coming out with a ceramic pot and lid. I wondered if it was a chamber pot, because she disappeared around the corner and returned with it a few minutes later.

Not all hutong houses have indoor plumbing, apparently, and even our inn suggests we don’t flush the toilet paper, but put it in a wastebasket instead, to prevent the pipes from clogging.

I got chilly, so I went back inside, reasoning that I’d hear the van approach. I went out again at 6:30 – a good thing, too, because our guide came into the hutong on foot!

I  climbed into an almost-full van and was given the folding jump seat – not the best spot for an early morning three-hour ride, but it worked. I happened to be seated next to a lovely young Australian woman who had just graduated from medical school and had done a few weeks of volunteer work in Kunming, living in quarters without heat or hot water. Now, there’s a good deed!

It was a three-hour ride to the Jinshanling portion of the Great Wall, near Gubeikou at the Hebei Province border. After we left the city behind, we could see bare mountains in the distance. We passed orchards, small farming plots and small towns, all still asleep. There was almost no traffic – a good thing, since the van had no seatbelts.

Our guide, Diana, was quite martial and gave us our orders and instructions in a brisk, businesslike way. No nonsense, and stick to the schedule, folks!

There were nine of us altogether and it was an odd group. Three German guys, two women who also seemed to be German, two Japanese guys, Sarah from Melbourne and me. Everyone was at least 20 years younger, probably 30. Matsumoto, of the Japanese men, spoke good English and was quite friendly, but no one else made the effort to connect with anyone outside his or her group.

Diana led us to the beginning of the trail up to the wall, told us we had three hours, pointed out the restaurant where we were to meet for lunch (half an hour for lunch, be back on time or see you tomorrow! – a bit of humour, at least) and let us loose.

As we walked, local “guides” attached themselves to our group. They seem to make a living walking the wall with people, helping them along and selling them souvenirs. Lots of work for the money they must make, and I am never thrilled by these deals, but I was sooo grateful for the older man who joined me. The wall was snowy and the climb was steep, and it was a real benefit to have someone take my hand when my footing was unsure. (Thank goodness I had hiking boots in this weather!)

It turns out that he is a farmer from Hebei who grows corn – a small plot – in the warmer weather. He had a lovely smile and a nice sense of humour, given our lack of much common language. So, of course, I ended up buying a T-shirt, a book of photos, two bags and some postcards.

The book turned out well. It had lovely photos of the wall, but it wasn’t something I’d generally buy, since I was taking my own photos. So, I gave it to Jerry, one of my hosts at the inn. They have lots of travel guides around, so I assumed he’d leave it out for guests to use. However, it turns out that Jinshanling is his favourite part of the wall and he’s climbed it more than a dozen times, so he was thrilled with the book. A win-win situation.

It was a brilliant day – clear, sunny and yes, cold – and I was bundled up in layers. We arrived at the wall and it appeared to be one climb after another. There were 14 towers on our route, with four more possible. The first four had been restored in the past 30 years—good to get a sense of what was, but not authentic. I was thrilled to reach the first original ruin of a tower. It had weeds growing out of the brick and the roof was gone, but it dated back to the Ming dynasty, about 500 years ago.

If it hadn’t been so cold, I think I would have enjoyed the views at a more leisurely pace, but it seemed wise to keep moving. And with a “guide,” it didn’t seem right to linger too long. I did take photos of many vistas, but since I couldn’t wear my glasses – they got fogged every time I breathed – not sure how well I did.

That said, it’s an amazing structure!!! The poor laborers who were pressed into service did a fabulous job building a fortification across unforgiving terrain. Looking at the wall, gleaming in the sunlight as it stretches its reddish-gold spine, undulating across the hills and passes, it’s hard not to be awed.

I made it to the 13^th tower, looked at the time and at the steep dip and climb ahead and decided it was time to turn back. Returning was much easier than the outgoing trip, thank heavens! Much more downhill, which I often don’t like, due to the pitch, but it was generally fine. Maybe I was just getting my sea legs, although I do really need to do climbing more often. A hike like this serves as a reminder of just how out-of-shape one is! However, I am proud that I lasted the full three hours on the wall and the approach.

On the return, I even encountered a man whose daughter lives in Edmonton. He was so happy to meet a Canadian.

We had a buffet lunch at the local restaurant, and it was yummy. Noodles, rice, lots of veggies, and a meat dish with big hunks of meat that I could avoid. Perfecto!

Once I got home, I went straight into the shower and refused to leave for quite a while. After sweating and cooling off, I felt damp all over, and the hot water was an amazing treat. Afterward, I fell asleep for a couple of hours. Upon awakening, I decided there was still time to go out for some food, so I went to a restaurant nearby that Sarah had tried. It was a Yunnan place, with photos of the food, so she found it easy to order.

I walked in and they seemed quite amazed to see a lone Western woman. It was a bare bones place, with wooden tables and backless seats. Wonder of wonders, there was an eggplant dish topped with chopped meat (pork, I’m guessing) mixed with spring onion and spices, plus a spicy sauce that I avoided. I also couldn’t resist trying the Yunnan eggrolls – tiny, with a sweet mango sauce with an edge.

Amusingly, the resto had reggae music playing throughout my dinner. Everyone was quite kind, as usual here in China, and there were smiles and Bu Keqis all around. A nice end to the day.

Beijing, up close

OK, I’ve gotten past the “Oh, dear, I’m alone,” phase of my trip – quick work, thank goodness! There’s more than enough to do to keep me going.

Lesson 1 for fellow travellers: Don’t go to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City on a Chinese national holiday. Talk about crowds – yowza! I had a 20 minute wait just to get into the square – lots of bag X-rays taking place on subways, in public buildings. ...  It was frigid and windy, but the mass of bodies crowded around me kept me warm.

Lesson 2: The Chinese don’t queue – just like their HK cousins. They gather. And when the mass must narrow into a smaller mass, there’s pushing. Be prepared.

Lesson 3:  Consider travelling to Beijing in spring – or fall – or summer. It’s really cold here and warm clothes are a must for any sightseeing!!! However, intrepid Canadians don’t let it stop them. No way!!

So, I did get into T Square, with the massive ancient gate at its south end – it’s the way the emperor would have approached the Forbidden City, I’m told.

The square’s huge mass is broken up by the Mao Zedong Memorial, or as I call it, the Mao-soleum. It was closed when I arrived, so I didn’t have the opportunity to see the great leader lying in state, but I guess I’ll survive.

The square was bustling on this holiday, mostly with Chinese natives. Everyone was understandably excited to be in a spot of such national prominence, and cameras were snapping like crazy. It was cool to feel the enthusiasm.

The square is bounded on the sides by official buildings, including the National Museum. At the south end stands a gate to the Forbidden City, home to emperors for generations and forbidden to the common man and woman. Mao’s portrait hangs on the gate, overlooking the square. The closer one gets, the more amazing it is – it’s huge!

The Forbidden City is where the emperor held court, conducted business, handed down judgments and entertained. The deeper into the courtyards one goes, the more private the area. There is also a section for the concubines, and even a pavilion where the proclamation was made every three years that concubine positions were available – for girls ages 14-16. Horrors. So young.

Unfortunately, much of the viewing is done from behind glass or bars, and the crowds made it tough to linger, but one definitely got the feeling of the luxury in which they lived and the protocol which governed so much of their lives. Myriad ceremonies and occasions that must be observed! So little freedom, as we know it.

Despite the cold, I loved walking through the garden, with its landscaping. Very peaceful and serene, with spots for the emperor and empress to sit and write poetry.  Sooo cultured, compared to monarchs of today.

Afterward, I walked to the China Art Museum, which is housed in a traditional building. I had no idea what to expect, but there were wonderful exhibitions of contemporary Chinese art, as well as a bit of traditional landscape painting. I loved the work of Sean Chen, a China native who lives and works in New Zealand and paints with an Expressionist style and a Fauve palette.  There were also some amazing watercolours – water paintings, as the translation billed them – and some brush paintings done in the traditional style, but with more irreverence towards nature than usual: fighting roosters, for example.

I took the subway home and made only one wrong turn en route. I had a noodle soup dinner – just what the weather offered, then wandered the main drag in my ‘hood. I stumbled upon a hutong that is known for its shops and its stalls, and it was quite lively, despite the cold.

Now, bedtime. A 5:30 a.m. wake-up call for the Great Wall hike. 

Beijing -- finally!

Beijing!

I’m really here! Amazing!

I flew out of Hong Kong this morning at 7:45 a.m. – or 8:15 HK time! Performances in HK don’t start on time, and airlines seem to be just as casual about promptness.

The flight was only half full, so I changed to a window seat for a chance to catch at bit of scenery. Alas, since I slept only about 2 hours last night – just a bit excited, I guess – I napped until we began our descent, so all I saw was a lot of farm fields dusted with snow.

Yes, snow! After months of living in tropical Hong Kong, I am back in the real world. It was -10 C this morning when we landed. And although I didn’t bring my outer wear with me to HK, I hit the post-Christmas sales in our shopping mecca and got a very  nice down jacket with hood on sale, and  a hat, scarf and gloves for about $14 for the three items. So, I arrived prepared.

I am staying for the first few nights in a traditional hutong – the narrow lanes leading off the main streets. The small hutong house is an old-fashioned Chinese home with all the rooms opening onto a courtyard. Very exciting to experience it, even if I won’t get breakfast in the courtyard at this time of year. (Remind me again, why am I touring China in winter?!)

Getting to the hutong was quite the endeavour. My taxi driver didn’t seem overly familiar with the downtown core, but he got us within shouting distance before we hit a traffic tie-up. We both tapped our toes and muttered, but there was no escape. It turned out that there was an accident around the corner, but who knew? After about 20 minutes of sitting in traffic, we made our escape and drove the final mile or two.

I wasn’t sure how I would spend my first day in Beijing, and since I was a bit fried, I couldn’t work up enthusiasm for museums. Instead, on New Year’s Eve, I decided on a Western outing: to see Riverdance! I have never seen it, and it’s here and so am I, so off I went to the Beijing Exhibition Centre, which is a bit like the Exhibition grounds in Toronto, without the livestock barns.

Thanks to the two young guys who run my hutong inn, I found the subway, and they had a cheap price for tickets, since tomorrow is a holiday. I handed over my dollar, hopped on and managed to get off at the correct stop – I’ve learned from my Guangzhou experience.

Everyone has told me how big Beijing is, and they aren’t kidding. Something that looks like a two-minute walk on the map is more like 15 or 20 minutes on foot. By the time I got to the theatre grounds and got my ticket, it was only 40 minutes to showtime and I hadn’t eaten in hours. So, I did something I haven’t done during my entire stay in HK: I went to a McDonald’s! I decided that if I was being Western in Beijing, I might as well go all the way. A greasy burger for lunch, then some fried sesame balls from a street vendor. My stomach won’t be eager for anything for a while now – it’s in shock.

To get to Mickey D’s – and it was a huge one -- I had to cross a highway egress. Traffic was heavy, but people and cars here seem to do a dance that allows them both to get along somehow. It’s ungainly, but it worked for me.

Amazingly, scalpers were everywhere outside the theatre grounds! I brushed them off, but it’s the first time I’ve encountered them in Asia.

Riverdance is fabulous, as everyone else probably knows already. It’s a feast of Irish music and dance, with some flamenco and American tap thrown in, and I loved every minute of it. I had no idea feet could move so fast. What a wonderful treat! The audience loved it. too. People say HK audiences are mute, but not so Beijingers. They clapped along when asked and cheered for the performers at the end. I sat next to two teenage girls who were just thrilled to be there – it added an extra dollop of pleasure to my own experience.

Afterward, I retraced my steps and thought about how cold it was. Since I have ambitions of walking the Great Wall later in the week, I was thrilled to happen upon a store displaying long underwear – now there are two words I haven’t strung together for months! However, jeans and socks just don’t cut it for a lengthy outdoors affair, so now I should be set.

Coming home in the dark wasn’t as easy as leaving in the daylight, however. I found the street, but as it turns out, our hutong isn’t labelled. When I reached the next major cross street, I knew I had gone astray, so I stopped into a clothing store. Luckily, like a kindergartner, I have a map of the street with the phone number and address in Chinese and English – bless my hosts! The lovely women at the store didn’t know where the hutong was and didn’t really speak English,  but they phoned my hosts and got me turned in the right direction. Just like their Hong Kong cousins, Beijingers prove to be kind.

However, I realize that I need to refresh myself on some of my rudimentary Chinese, because words keep escaping me at crucial times. Luckily, people seem pleased when I try  -- and sign language is a great invention.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I debated going out again, but once I made it safely to my room and the heat went on, it seemed like too much of an effort. Good enough to be starting a New Year in a completely new place.  A good omen for a year of further adventures!

Happy New Year, all!

To market, to market

Ah, a sunny, warm (70/20) day off! With the clock ticking down on my time in Hong Kong, what better way to spend it than visiting a selection of the city’s famous themed markets?

I grabbed my purse and headed out for the Kowloon side, crossing the harbour underground on the MTR (subway). My trusty guidebook in hand, I made my way to Mong Kok, a working class neighbourhood just south of the border between Kowloon and the New Territories.

My walk took me along Boundary Road, past Mong Kok Stadium to a small lane. Suddenly, I heard twittering and tweeting. I’d found the bird market!

Themed markets in Hong Kong come in more than one variety: stores selling one type of product clustered together; outdoor stalls along a pedestrian thoroughfare; or a covered are with booths featuring a particular product. The bird market comprises small shops that sell pet birds and all the items needed to care for them: cages, feed, water bowls, perches, etc.

In fact, Hong Kong birds live a luxury lifestyle. No wire cages or plastic water dishes for these tweetie pies; no, no! They sip and sup from china bowls and flit around in lovely bamboo cages. Quite lovely, actually, to see them appreciated!

I walked the lane and marvelled at the varieties of birds on offer: parrots, budgies, cockatoos, and a host of other small birds I couldn’t name. There were some baby parrots whose heads still had baby fuzz rather than feathers – so adorable. However, they knew how to squawk with the best of them already!

One of the shops specialized in bird treats: live grasshoppers. They were packaged in plastic punctured with holes and lined with grass and twigs. I think I might stick to bird seed if I were an owner.

Not only is the bird market home to bird sellers, it has a parklike area attached where bird owners can come with their own birds, sit and visit. No need for birds – or owners, for that matter – to be lonely!

The lane from the bird market leads almost directly to the next point of interest: the flower market. This, too, is actually a collection of shops that specialize in flower, with some more like gardening stores, others focusing on cut flowers and still others focusing on a category of plant, such as orchids or succulents. The merchandise spills out onto the sidewalk, so the browser is barraged by a flood of colour: purple, yellow and white orchids; tubs of cut carnations, birds of paradise, anthurium  and bamboo; hyacinth bulbs ready to burst into fragrant bloom; and for the holidays, pot after pot of poinsettias. Impossible to walk away empty-handed – and I didn’t!

A few blocks away, across a busy Prince Edward Street, is the goldfish market. I have fond childhood memories of carnivals and fairs at local synagogues and churches where there were goldfish to be won as prizes. You aimed a ping pong ball at a goldfish bowl, and if it landed, you were awarded a goldfish swimming in a plastic bag full of water that was held gingerly on the drive home.

I hadn’t seen such bags in years – until today! There, along the street full of aquarium stores, were the plastic bags of my childhood, but they weren’t as staid. No, it wasn’t simply goldfish that were available, but guppies, crabs, angelfish and others. Inside the shops, larger fish and tanks were for sale, but there’s nothing to attract a sidewalk crowd like a wall full of koi!

Since I’d been wandering for quite a while already, I decided to pass on the ladies’ clothing market. I’ve been to some outdoor clothing markets on Hong Kong Island, and I was more interested in the next destination: the jade market.

En route, however, I happened upon a Tin Hau Temple that beckoned, so I wandered in to inhale the incense and enjoy the altar piled with the usual offerings of fruit. Tin Hau is the Empress of the Seas and is a goddess of great import to fishermen and sailors.

After cutting down a side street that took me past a tempting selection of stores selling cooking utensils and industrial-size pots, I found the tin-covered roof that marked the jade market. Inside the building were dozens of booths selling jade items from minuscule to large: earrings, bracelets and pendants, as well as decorative carvings in shades from white to dark green. Tour books warn the buyer to beware, as much of the stock is likely jadite or worse, but for cheap and cheerful, it’s fine. Of course, I couldn’t leave without a few bracelets and a happy young saleswoman! What’s a trip to HK without some lucky jade?

Some sunshine, some shopping, some new neighbourhoods to explore: all in all, a lovely day off.