Al comes out of his shell

Our last full day in China, and we’re not resting on our laurels here.  We were up early to get ready for our final performance, at the Confucious institute.  This was the group that helped bring us to China, and has served as our helpful and hospitable hosts while we’ve been here, so we were happy to visit their headquarters for one last show.

We’re mostly running like a well-oiled machine by now, but traffic delayed our progress this morning.  Luckily this was a smaller and more informal concert, for employees and students at the institute, so it didn’t seem to cause many problems (though we did have to skip our planned visit to the Summer Palace afterward).

That’s me, Tom, and Dave, valiantly climbing this large flight of stairs.

The concert was another success, despite a few technical issues.  This was Al’s last chance, and sadly he still proved to be superfluous.  Tom decided he deserved to come out of his case one time, to get a chance to see Confucious.    The rest of us got to spend a little time wandering through the institute’s mini-museum, containing arts and crafts as well as interactive exhibits about other facets of China’s cultural history.

After one last huge lunch, it was time to head out of the city to the Badaling section of the Great Wall, about an hour and a half outside the city.  Once again, the weather was chilly and damp (though fortunately not actually raining), and once again many of our group had not dressed entirely appropriately.  I was definitely regretting my bare legs, but figured I would eventually warm up from exertion.

Tom and Michael were a big hit with the elderly Chinese ladies

From where we started the wide expanse of wall stretched away as far as the eye could see (which, given the damp mist, was actually not all that far) in both directions, climbing up and down over the steeply rolling hills and winding through the rugged terrain.  It was mind-boggling to contemplate how much effort must have been involved to build this huge edifice in such challenging surroundings.  Our guide told us that the Great Wall is also considered the largest cemetary in China, because so many people died during construction and were buried alongside or within the wall itself.

Our set off at various paces — this time I was wise enough not to attempt to join the fastest group — and began our trek.  I can’t imagine trying to do it in the rain, because the steepness of the grade at some points was quite a challenge even in dry weather.  You definitely want good tread on your shoes.  There are watchtowers spaced out along the wall, and paths that you can take that run alongside as well.  Along the north side, you can see the holes left for archers to use.  It’s hard to imagine someone thinking this was a good place for a battle.

After one last round of gift shops (these proved to be rather pricy) it was time for our last dinner.  Our guides had been promising a “surprise” all day, and I think some in our group had allowed themselves to hope that it involved the Pizza Hut we’d passed earlier — but it was not to be.  The surprise was the famed Peking Duck dish, which consisted of duck covered in crispy skin that you put into thin tortilla-like wraps with plum sauce, onions, and cucumbers — much like the moo shu pork that you would get in an American restaurant.  It was actually delicious, even if it was not covered in cheese.  There was plenty of other food as well, and the scallion pancakes proved an enormous hit.

Stasko family rocks the house

We were in the top section of our restaurant all by ourselves, and there was a large stage that of course could not go to waste.  Our guides, who were very fun and entertaining, had been working valiantly to keep everyone from falling into an exhausted stupor on the buses, by encouraging singing performances and contributing some themselves.  Now the kids were eager to show what they could do, and quite a few instruments made their way into the restaurant.  The drummer in the group even went out to the bus and retrieved poor, neglected Al — who finally got his day in the sun.  Turns out, when fully assembled, he turns into a fancy drum with a foot pedal.  Tom was tearing up a bit, as he photographed “Al’s first recital”.

“Victoria” and “Christina” take their turn (that’s Al in the background).

The kids (and our guides) had a great time doing some final silly singing and dancing together, and it was the perfect way to wrap up the trip.  There was a lot of laughing (and a few tears) as everyone got ready to say goodbye to their China families and return back to real life.

As we got ready for our final morning, initially we thought we’d get to sleep in a little (for the first time on the whole trip).  Sadly, the political conference that’s happening has resulted in unpredictable road closings and traffic snarls — so it was 7am breakfast once again, even though

The start of the Urals

our flight didn’t leave until 2pm.  No one wanted to contemplate the prospect of having our group of 70 people miss that flight.

As it turned out, we got to the airport with plenty of time, and go through all the various hurdles with no difficulty.  The Palmer/Pavlik family was at the front of the line this time, which allowed us to snag some window seats.  And it sure was worth it, as we flew north over the stunning Ural mountains.  Their start looked like they’d been placed there by machinery — a straight line in the ground, with flat plains on one side and large mountains on the other.  As we continued north, frozen rivers snaked among the peaks, which eventually became snow-covered as we approached the Arctic.

The windows on the plane didn’t have shades, but instead controls to darken them. Unfortunately, the powers that be on Hainan Airlines decided that it was bedtime (at 6pm) and darkened all the windows.  It was very frustrating to see the beautiful views fade to black.  But we were all thrilled to see Boston appear several hours later, and even happier to see that we hadn’t lost anyone when we got off the plane.  Our yellow school buses transported us back to the middle school, where there were many joyous reunions.  We chaperones were sad to see the trip end, but happy to hand our responsibilities back over to the parents!

A couple of days ago, when we were melting in the heat and sun in Xi’an, I was fantasizing about cool weather.  Cold would be SO much better than hot, I told myself.  Well, the weather gods listened with a vengeance.  Upon our arrival in Beijing this morning, we were greeted by temps in the 40s accompanied by a cold drizzle.

Parents out there may be aware that kids are not so good at listening when you tell them to dress warmly.  Many of our crew straggled out of the train wearing shorts, sundresses, T-shirts, and/or sandals.  I thought I had reasonable clothing — pants, sneakers, a fleece, and a raincoat — and I was STILL cold.

Who knew a saxophone was a “dangerous good”?

We were glad to get the chance to visit the Olympic village, though.  Unfortunately, the security checkpoint showed photos of a large number of forbidden items, which apparently included saxophones.  Or, rather, all musical instruments — so Mr. Ervin’s ever-present guitar got confiscated.  Apparently they’re not big on impromptu performances here.  (He got it back unscathed as we exited.)

Those of us of a certain age well remembered the Bird’s Nest Stadium, which looms above the large square outside it.  Some of the swimmers in our group were happy to get their photos in front of the Water Cube, used for all the swimming events.  We also saw the official Olympic rings and the tower that had held the Olympic flame.  (Also, there was a souvenir shop just outside the gates, which our guide told us had some of the best prices in China.  Zoe and I bought some chopstick sets here that we later saw at the Great Wall for four times the price.  And there was an American-style coffee shop!  I’m not sure what was the best part — the taste, the warmth, or the caffeine.)

After lunch, on the walk from the buses to our next stop, the rain started to pick up.  Several people stopped in a convenient shop to buy $2 umbrellas and rain ponchos.  It was an inauspicious start to our tour of the Forbidden City, one of the top tourist attractions in China.

Mr. Ervin had again struck terror into the hearts of the chaperones with tales of how the Forbidden City would be more crowded than anyplace we’d been (this seemed impossible), that it was a large area that was a virtual labyrinth, that we would not be coming back out the same entrance where we came in, and

basically giving us the impression anyone who blinked or took a wrong step would have to take up residence in the Forbidden City because we’d likely never find them again.  (I am beginning to think Mr. Ervin’s strategy for keeping everyone from complaining about anything is to set expectations very, very low.)  The plus side of the rain was that it was not very crowded at all, and we had no difficulty keeping track of our little family.  (They were mostly huddled under the nearest cover, shivering.)

The escalator had a mirrored ceiling

The Forbidden City was beautiful, though — a seemingly endless series of palaces and gardens covering about 180 acres.  (We walked straight through the broad path running down the center, so fears of getting lost in a labyrinth may have been overblown.)  The picture of all the bright umbrellas floating through the gardens gave the impression of a watercolor painting.  As with the other places we’ve been, the site has been meticulously restored in every detail.

In a moment of great incongruity, our next stop was a glittering area of luxury malls.  This is not something that I would normally have been particularly excited about, but at this point our group was just desperate to get inside and

So close, China, so close.

warm up.  (We also guessed, correctly, that they would have nice bathrooms.)  We were free to roam for a little while before dinner, so we checked out the indoor ski slope (small, because the surface moved on a conveyor belt), observed the virtual reality roller coaster ride, and enjoyed the giant escalator that went straight to the fifth floor.  Many of the shops had English names or phrases, but in some cases they just seemed to be random words strung together, and in others didn’t get it quite right (e.g. “Coven Garden” instead of “Covent Garden”, making the high-end shop sound like a witches’ den).

Dinner was at the mall, but did not turn out to be pizza and burgers.  We had passed a McDonald’s and  Pizza Hut in the same area earlier, so a few people had hope.  Still, there was a Dairy Queen in the mall, so that was something.  Dave got to enjoy a birthday Blizzard before heading back to the hotel.

For some reason, we weren’t able or weren’t allowed to see Tiananmen Square.  It wasn’t clear why, exactly — there is some kind of big political convention going on here so it might have something to do with that.  Mr. Ervin did have the buses drive by it on our way home, so a quick glimpse is all we got.

Our guides held these little stuffed animals aloft on poles to help us follow them through the crowds. By the end of the outing, Purple Bunny didn’t look so good.

This was the exciting night where we got to take an overnight train!  (Spoiler alert: not like the movies.)

But first, we ventured on top of the Xi’an city wall to go biking.  Impressively, they had enough bikes to outfit our group of 60+, with some to spare.  A full circuit around the top of the wall was 8 flat miles, perfect for a leisurely ride.  And we finally had one day of seasonal weather in the 70s.  (Spoiler alert: it would be the only one, as temps the next day would plummet into the 40s).

We waited in line for our single or tandem bikes. then set off around the perimeter.  It was really fun crusing the top of the ancient city wall, past towers and lanterns, with the city skyline in the distance.  There was also a road race happening at the same time (and in fact Tom apparently nearly took out into the female winner just before she crossed the finish line).  And, to the kids’ joy, there was even a shop that sold ice cream close to the finish point.

There were also lots of locals who wanted to take our photos.  Half of our family got trapped with their bikes inside a large crowd of people and were unable to move forward until all the photos were taken.  Zoe and Evie got pulled aside by a preschool teacher, who carefully arranged all her adorable charges in a ring around them.

This is the sort of photo that led to the problem.

I’m looking at my photos, trying to figure out where it was we went next.  It was another crowded market street.  Things are a bit of a blur at this point.  I think there was a drum tower and a bell tower involved.  The bells were rung to open the city gates in the morning, and the drums were beat to close them at night.  Or possibly vice versa.  We’re getting kind of tired here.  The thing I do remember is that I was holding my camera up high, taking a picture of the crowd, and was looking up at my camera, and fell into a trash can that was directly in my path, and then had to run around to all the chaperones trying to find hand sanitizer. (Edited to

Big Wild Goose Pagoda

add: Zoe, with her youthful brain, remembers.  It was the famous Muslim quarter, and featured lots of local shops and foods.  We were advised by our guide to avoid the latter.)

Our next stop was the Big Wild Goose Pagoda, a Buddhist pagoda within the Daci’en Template complex.  As with everywhere we’ve been here, the surrounding grounds were lovely and immaculate.  The city of Xi’an, in addition to being the ancient capital, is also one of the endpoints of the Silk Road — which explains the huge amount of history to be found here.  Because of an earthquake, it leans somewhat like the famous Italian tower.  We were not able to climb up in this one, though.

Our guide, who was very funny and interesting, did take us into a large room full of artwork.  Historically, this temple provided free housing to the top students in China, who were often too poor to travel to study in the capital otherwise.  We were told that this tradition continues today — and there are still monks in residence here.  To help earn their keep and support the temple, they sell their art.  Our guide gave us a demonstration of calligraphy and drawing with the traditional Chinese brush.  The artwork was a bit out of our budget, but I did take the opportunity to pay the artist-in-residence to write Nadia and Lanie’s names in Chinese characters to bring home for them.

Then it was time for the train.  I should say that initially I was very excited about the overnight train, with visions of the mystery and romance you see in the movies dancing through my head.  Some of the other chaperones were less enthusiastic.  And we all felt our spirits dampen somewhat when Mr. Ervin started talking about his last experience on the train, where he’d been in a “hard sleeper” (the cheaper berths, which are open to the aisles) and ended up in a staring contest with some random ruffian who was trying to go through the baggage.  We were told that given the number of us on the train, most would probably end up in the hard sleepers.

Luckily, someone decided to question our Chinese guides a little later on, and found out that we all had “soft sleepers” — four-person rooms with a locking door — and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

But first we had to get through the train station.  After the last time, we also had a fair bit of trepidation around this process.  As it turned out, security in Xi’an was not like in Chengdu — we had to go through a couple of scanners and get a pat-down from the guards, but at least no one had to rifle through our luggage or steal our toiletries.  On the other hand, there was a major design flaw in this station.  After schlepping all our possessions across the station and through the multiple security checkpoints (keep in mind at this point I was carrying a large framed panda print in addition to my normal luggage), we were confronted with a large set of stairs.  Turned out we had to go up three flights, across a short hall, and then down three flights again.  And we didn’t have a lot of

An unsavoury-looking lot.  Would you trust your children with these people?

extra time.  At least my suitcase was small and relatively light — others were much worse off.  I don’t know who ended up carrying the huge and heavy percussion suitcase, but Tom, of course, had Al along for the ride.

The train was another adventure.  The seats had been assigned pretty randomly, so we had to do some quick swapping around to make sure that, for instance, we didn’t have a kid alone in a car with three strangers.  We didn’t have much time for this, and I ended up getting stuck on the wrong car after trading my berth.  Fortunately I was able to find out that they would open all the connecting doors once we got going, so I didn’t actually have to spend the trip standing in the hallway.

Not that the cabins were much better.  They were TINY, with bunk beds on each side that took up most of the available space.  There was very little room for luggage, and what storage there was involved hoisting it onto a shelf above the door, about 8 feet up.  It was quite a precarious endeavor trying to balance yourself while gathering enough strength to shove the suitcases upward.  It was not exactly the accommodations that Murder on the Orient Express had let me to expect.  (Also, when some of us later tried to go to the lounge car, we found out that (a) there were no seats available, and (b) we had to pay to stay there.)

Nevertheless, the train seemed to be great fun for the kids, who pretty much started up a series of small roving parties in the various cabins.  I felt a bit sorry for the other people who were in our carriages.  Eventually, though, everyone settled down and got some degree of sleep — mostly rather uncomfortable and interrupted, but better than nothing.  The kit I’d been given on the plane — containing toothbrush, toothpaste, an eye mask, ear plugs, and a pair of socks that served passably as a towel — came in very handy.