[9/22/2000]
Here I am in Beijing. My luggage finally joined me after
five days. I've been to the Forbidden City, the Great Wall,
and the Summer Palace not to mention the botanical garden
(which doesn't really count because I live here). Everything
is so chaotic I haven't written much in my journal and I
can't even remember which day is which.
It is raining here this morning and quite warm so I feel
a little damp. The weather has been hot, hazy, and humid
during the day with thunderstorms at night. Really dramatic
thunderstorms two nights in a row woke me up. Periodic
glimpses of blue sky appear as the cold fronts come in and
give advance notice of the thunderstorms. It does make for
dramatic skies in the afternoon as I walk back to the guest
house from the herbarium through the garden. Every once in
awhile the top of Incense Burner Peak is actually clearly
visible.
For breakfast this morning we finally got coffee! Somehow
we got the restaurant here at the Institute of Botany to
make coffee for us this morning. It's presweetened and not
strong enough, but gives that caffeine fix. They serve the
coffee in a glass and hot milk in another glass. I think
they boiled the milk. They brought out a plate of sugar
cubes too but they were not necessary. The coffee is
presweetened. I like tea a lot but I have been missing
coffee after a week and a day.
I tried to order noodle soup for breakfast but you can
only get wonton soup at breakfast time. I didn't care, I
just wanted soup, but it took awhile to get that across. I
also got tea eggs. The tea eggs are hard-boiled, cracked,
then hard-boiled again in strong tea. They look weird but
taste great. I passed on the deep fried bread this morning
as it has a bitter aftertaste.
So
much to do. So little time to do it. The office and the
herbarium are closed for the weekend. Zsolt joked that I
should do all my eating and sleeping on the weekend so I can
spend all my time working during the week. The harridans who
control access to the collection insist on kicking me out at
11:30 for lunch and at 4:00, the end of the work day. Unless
I manage to hide in a specimen cabinet I'm not going to be
able to devote every waking hour to photographing conifer
specimens. My paper journal for 9/22/00 reads "Chinese
specimens have white labels with the province name. Foreign
specimens have purplish labels." That refers to the regular
collection. I'm still working on the Type collection and
won't get to them for awhile.
Qin Hai-ning hosted a farewell dinner for the field
expedition tonight at a nice restaurant down the street. We
have dubbed this the "alternative" to distinguish it from
the "usual". Each person specified their favorite dish and
then Qin and YY added a few local specialties like half
cooked potatoes to the order. There was more than enough
food. And alcohol. Everybody but me got into a real party
mood. Me, I faked the toasts and concentrated on my ma po
tofu.
[9/23/00]
The field group left for Kunming. We waved good-bye to them
as the van left for the airport. Carol and Rosalie and I are
staying here to work in the herbarium. As we were standing
in the courtyard talking after they left, Yang Yong
appeared! Oops! They can't leave without YY! He ran
back
to the herbarium and we didn't' see him again so I assume
they realized they'd forgotten him and picked him up there.
It was quite a shock to see him after the van had left.
Rosalie had some kind of a painful neck spasm, which at
first she thought was an ear infection. Once she found out
it was a neck spasm, she decided to go downtown and get a
room in a luxury hotel where she could get a massage. I went
with her while Carol stayed and worked - she could get into
the storage room where our specimens are but I couldn't get
into the actual National Herbarium collection so it made
more sense for me to go with Rosalie. Anyway, we had lunch
at the Palace Hotel where she checked into a suite. I took a
cab back and learned I still can't pronounce Xiangshan well
enough for cab drivers to understand - thank goodness the
doorman at the Palace understood my bad pronunciation and
translated it for the cab driver.
[9/24/00] Next day Rosalie was feeling much
better and invited Carol and me to brunch at Ristorante Roma
in the Palace Hotel. Whoever decides what westerners like to
eat for brunch must be Hungarian because there was plenty of
salami, cheese, and tomatoes. Then it was power shopping in
the Silk Street.
First
we had to find Silk Street. We got to take the subway, which
one of the guidebooks I got yesterday at the Palace lists as
one of the top sights of Beijing. It is modern, clean,
sleek, quiet and at least today not very crowded. I'm not
sure I'd list it as one of the wonders of the modern world
or even one of the top ten sights of Beijing - maybe I'm
just jaded - seen one subway seen 'em all.
Silk Street is sort of misnamed. Most of what they sell
there is not silk and it's more like an alley. A very narrow
alley crowded with more people than you can imagine jostling
one another for a look at the brand name merchandise. It's
North Face parkas, New Balance shoes, and other brand name
stuff. You know all the stuff that's made in China and you
keep wondering where in China you can buy it because it's
not in the stores? Silk Street is where you go to buy it.
The sellers compete with each other trying to lure you in
and if you stop so much as one second to look at something
the salespeople are all over you.
The alley empties into a slightly wider street lined with
booths on both sides selling everything under the sun except
maybe silk. You'll be walking along and a young guy will
sidle up to you and walk alongside you saying "CDs? DVDs?"
and sometimes "Computer Software? English." They'd stay with
you murmuring "CDs? DVDs?" until you definitively told them
no. A few paces later another one of them would overtake you
from behind and make the same pitch.
I did buy two cheap silk paintings, one of pandas and one
of red-crowned cranes, from an old woman who then followed
me around for awhile.
The most interesting thing somebody tried to sell me
wasn't actually in Silk Street, it was near Tiananmen Square
- a musical cigarette lighter with a portrait of Chairman
Mao on it. It played The East is Red. How I passed
that up I don't know.
On the way out of the market area we passed the US
embassy with the flag fluttering in the breeze. I was so
homesick I started singing The Star Spangled Banner.
Suddenly other American voices joined in! Funny and sweet
and alarmingly patriotic. However, I did not add the words
"Play ball!" at the end.
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