I had hit Beijing wrong. Like astronauts upon reentry, if their trajectory is wrong they bounce off the atmosphere and go screaming and spinning off into space. In my mind I felt that I did just that and set about to make it right. Once, long ago, I made a living asking questions. Knocking on doors one day, a wizened wisp of a woman stared at me then asked, “What is the spirit of your intention?” I never forgot it and frequently ask myself the same question. This time I answered, joy—I came to Beijing for joy, and to renew my travel documents. So when I came upon a hotel called ‘King’s Joy’ I knew I was following the right star. I was sure of my footing. Yes, they had a vacancy. When I asked to see the room, the woman manning the desk paused, and a man whose position I couldn’t discern—manager? security? walked up and offered to show me. He spoke great English and was so pleasant I knew I was home. With a wave of the electronic key, halleluiah, there it was—deep, comfortable bed, clean, big bathroom, air con, desk for writing, phone, room service and “By the way,” he said, “we have a rooftop viewing restaurant/bar with imported beers and a menu featuring western food, free wifi, with daily specials and free hotpot on Wednesday’s.” Would I take the room? I tried to make a joke. “The King will take the king’s room—did I tell you, I am the king of teachers?” He waved his hand dismissively, “They all say that.” I laughed all the way down to the lobby where I signed up for the length of my stay, then headed up to the Viewing Bar for a late breakfast. I remember hazily the story of a U.S. citizen being imprisoned for years in some horrible foreign place and upon his rescue was offered anything at all he wanted to eat and what he wanted most was a hot dog. I understand that these days. Surrounded by exotic food, you often crave the things you were raised on. The simpler the better. During my stay, I worked my way down their menu and enjoyed it all, including the real ground-bean coffee which is rare in China. As I was eating breakfast, I looked out the windowed view of Tiananmen Square and smiled out at Beijing . . . Beijing it seemed, was now smiling back. That afternoon I met up with Loreta. She and I taught together and she now lives in Beijing. She is Lithuanian, a bright starling and a soul pal, and she showed me the street where you can eat anything. Scorpions, snakes, starfish, seahorses, grubs and beetles and lizards and centipedes and things I couldn’t even identify. They were alive and writhing on skewers and displayed with red starfish to appeal to that crawling out of the sea crunchiness we all remembered deep down in our collective paleomammalian brain, the scorpions impaled, stingers removed, wiggling in shafts of light, still alive somehow, people crunching with horrible, oblivious delight, if I had a tent I would have pitched it on that street and lived there for a week. Later the sun was going down in Tiananmen Square where people gathered for the lowering of the flag. Glowing photo ops were everywhere. Green marching soldiers, statues of the revolution, the faux Greco mausoleums dissolving in the sunset, the crowds caught in the spell of the solar settling down, the day unraveling, something offering itself, something closing, something colliding, something going home, the subway beneath it all revolving like planets, whirling in confined space, taking passengers all across the city for 2 Yuan (approximately $.32 cents). Later I sat in the King’s Joy Viewing Bar and watched the mirage created by the flat-screened TV reflecting a diving competition in the windows overlooking Tiananmen Square. It appeared as if the divers were springing upward, arcing, then diving into the square, a western optical illusion transposed onto the heart of Chinese everything. At about the same time, it seemed the city blinked itself out. The lights went out in Tiananmen Square at 10:30. Then, just after eleven in this international city, from where I was sitting, the only thing still open was the golden buttocks thrust up to the sky (MickyD’s) and an irregular assortment of dimly lit apartment blocks. I was fascinated that this city went to bed so early. The tourist zones were lit but everything else was dark. I imagined Paris, Rome, New York, Moscow, turning off the lights at eleven o’clock. And while I knew there were parts of Beijing that were just coming awake, it was just so weird to see a major city go dark so early. I watched the parade of divers jump into Tiananmen Square and made a shooting star wish on each and every one of them. I was back, my luckbox was refilled, and the spirit of my intention was clear and remained, unbounded king’s joy. P.S--By the way, I ate a snake. It didn't taste like chicken, but more like rubbery lamb. Elvis Plays Beijing Part 3
1 Comment
Mary
9/4/2013 04:58:01 am
Yuk!! A snake...you sure are brave..So glad you are enjoying Beijing I had alwalys heard it was nice to visit but did not know it went to bed so early but that is sorta nice. The viewing bar looks like a perfect spot to view from afar and unwind. Really like the phrase “What is the spirit of your intention?” I am going to use that too.... my Michael always uses "The mind can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven"-John Milton. So happy that you found "King Joy"
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