Building a dream, dismissing the reality

The first and last thing you notice when passing through Beijing international airport is the impressive new terminal (see top picture).

To me it looks like a turtle, although Norman Foster’s design has been likened to a dragon and meant to represent two boomerangs placed side by side.

The International Herald Tribune said on Monday that China’s “fierce embrace of change has left Western nations in the dust”. It is indeed true that the exciting new architecture in Beijing has boomeranged the city into a creative space that bypasses anything that is being done elsewhere.

Besides the airport terminal there is also Paul Andreau’s egg-like National Theatre as well as the CCTV headquarters by Rem Koolhaas which the International Herald Tribune places “amongst the most imaginative architectural feats in recent memory”. With this building Koolhaas plays with the perception of scale, as it looks small from certain angles and gigantic from others.

Then, of course there is the Olympic stadium (see bottom picture) which is the brainchild of Jacques Hertzog and Pierre de Meuron. The elliptical shape resembles a bird’s nest and is a symbol of hope. It’s barely visible through the smog, perhaps a suitable expression of the dream that is the Olympics.

This stadium and the National Aquatics centre, which looks like an oversized cloud-cushion, has been given an honorary place on the ceremonial axis of Beijing which extends from the Forbidden City. This makes the Olympic village part of a selection of ancient and modern buildings that define Beijing.

Yet, in spite of all the historical and the visionary architecture, Reuters reported last week that although five star hotels are 77 percent booked, four star hotels are only 48 percent full. The lower cost hotels are looking even emptier for the Olympics, which starts early next month.

The reason for the lack of tourists are said to be “tight security, difficulties obtaining visas and terrorism warnings”.

“And why should they come?” says a fellow traveller, Alex, “China has no respect for their national resources, condemns the holy man who speaks of world peace and has no problem with letting their citizens eat tainted food. I don’t care what they build, I would rather spend my money somewhere else.”

'Xièxie' for reading this

Often the small kindnesses that we encounter along our way are exactly what we need to fulfil our destinies.

I am reminded of this while taking a walk along the Long Corridor at the Summer Palace in Beijing. It's an open air walkway with a roof to keep out the summer drizzle. From here the scenery changes from lazy boats and water lilies on my left to traditional Chinese palace buildings on the right. It is the largest painted corridor in the world, according to the Guinness Book of Records - and a lovely place for reflection.

The locals seem to think so too, judging by the amount of Chinese spending the day here at leisure. It's possible to watch shows in some of the palace buildings, go for a boat ride and have Chinese food and drinks at the market style outlets. Again, the prices are not inflated, which makes even the tourist experience here so much more authentic.

The Long Corridor paintings are fascinating. I stop to read up about them in a book that I found at the souvenir shop. The painting right above me depicts the story of Han Xin who became one of the founders of the Han Dynasty (206 B.C.-220 A.D.). When Han Xin was young, he was only committed to studying and practicing martial arts. Apart from some fishing he had no real means of earning a living. A laundry lady shared her meals with him freely for as long as he needed her kindness. Later, as the Marquis of Huaiyin, he went looking for this old lady to repay her kindness with a thousand pieces of gold.

There are over 8000 paintings to be found on the Long Corridor, which is 728 metres long. Some of these cover history, myths and legends while others are delicate or whimsical depictions of birds, flowers and pristine landscapes from a bygone era. The Summer Palace was first built in 1750, then burnt down during British and French invasions before being rebuilt in 1886. So much history and yet this age old story reminds me of how many people played a role in helping me find a way to live as a writer and traveller.

Have I said thank you to the people who helped me along? Perhaps not enough. Let me start with you – 'xièxie' (Mandarin for 'thank you') for reading and for leaving comments on this blog. Your growing interest and support is worth a thousand pieces of gold.

Entering the Forbidden City

“Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift, that’s why it’s called present.” – from the movie ‘Kung-fu Panda’

I think about this as I am walking through the Forbidden City in Beijing. It’s easy to live in the past and the future, but to really appreciate the present can sometimes be a challenge.

Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987, the Forbidden City is an extensive collection of preserved wooden structures. It is an exhausting excursion: 720 000 sqaure metres of halls, squares and almost nine thousand rooms makes it the world’s largest surviving palace complex. The palace was built during the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) and used as the imperial palace during the Ming and Qing (1644-1912) dynasties.

It’s hot, my colleagues are irritable after a tough day and although there are picturesque corners in this endless complex of structures it seems that we are walking and walking and not really getting enough visual rewards.

Not all the rooms are open to the public and only a few of them hold treasures and art. Apparently Puji, the last Emperor of China, sold many of the original treasures to finance his extravagant lifestyle, while other valuable items were simply stolen.

What’s more; a part of the former collection is now hosted by the Palace Museum in Taipei. That doesn’t leave very much for the visitor to see here, especially since this complex is so large and so much walking needs to be done to see it. We’re trying to do it in half a day, although setting aside a whole day would have been wiser.

Interestingly enough, the locals enjoy hanging out here with their children, sitting around on benches in the squares, walking through the gardens and having lunch. Spending the day here at leisure seems to be the status quo. The food prices are not tourist orientated and it seems that the Chinese really do relish their cultural heritage.

The Forbidden City is called such because no one could enter or leave without the Emperor’s permission, which meant that many people lived out their whole lives within these palace walls.

I am counting my blessings, for my past, my future and the honour of being here, now, free.

'Hanoi is a spell'*

A quick dip in the sea is a marvellous way to wake up. We proceed to spend a lazy morning on the beach where I read a few more chapters from ‘Life in Hanoi’ by Pam Scott, an account of locals’ and expats’ lives in the city.

Once again I come across the story of Christine Yu, who traded a luxury lawyer’s life in Hong Kong for the fickle world of fashion. She came to Hanoi with her husband and decided to use her imagination and the skills of the exceptional craftswomen to design handbags. The amazing part of this story is that her label made it onto the great catwalks of the world and onto the arms of famous Hollywood stars and important politicians. I make a mental note to visit the Ipa Nima store if we still have time when we return to Hanoi.

Back on the boat we enjoy more sights of islands and cliffs. We jump into the glowing lagoon for a swim before changing boats and anchoring in Halong Bay with many other traditional junks. The sun is just about to set over the surreal landscape. We’ve each got a Vietnamese beer in hand and on the faces of my fellow travellers I can see that it is not only me who will remember this trip as a highlight of my life.

When we eventually stumble into bed, Susi says: “The boat and all its facilities look exactly as it does on the brochure. We got exactly what we paid for.”

Friends and other travellers warned us that it is better to go for a more expensive tour organised by a tour company rather than a budget tour organised by a hotel. It turned out to be invaluable advice. The food on the boat is good, the guides are jovial and everything is clean and tidy.

Our last stop is the Amazing Cave, where Vietnamese soldiers used to hide during Vietnam’s many wars. Today it is set up for tourists with lights accentuating the natural wonder of the stalagtites and stalagmites.

As we approach the end of our tour a thick mist clouds the limestone cliffs and dark thunder rolls in. Soon it is raining and the whole scene takes on a fantastical edge.

We all become quiet. By now we are filled with about as much wonder as human beings can take in a few days.

* From 'Life in Hanoi' by Pam Scott

The legend of the soaring dragon

Hanoi was formerly known as Thanh Long, which means ‘City of the Soaring Dragon’. The legend goes that the dragon came down into Halong Bay and splashed its tail in the water to split the land into a million little islands so that hostile ships would not be able to navigate through it all and instead go down before reaching the shore.

Today we are going to see these karst islets for ourselves. We cross Long Bien Bridge on the way to the coast. The original bridge was built by the same architect who designed the Eiffel Tower and parts of it are still standing. During the American War (as it is known here in Vietnam) the US military bombed this bridge repeatedly and every time the Vietnamese built it up again. Apparently they only stopped bombing the bridge when US prisoners of war were made to build it.

Along the way pointy hats and water buffalo pop out of the rice fields and motorbikes overloaded with produce further add to the romantic scenery.

The limestone formations become more intense until the sea appears on the horizon.

Our little bus stops at the harbour where a host of traditional junks are lined up for tours along the Gulf of Tonkin. We board ours with only a handful of other tourists and sail off into a magical world.

In 1994 Halong Bay was declared a UNESCO world heritage site. I can’t help but think this is where the Vietnamese got their artistic eyes from. Being surrounded by such overpowering beauty must somehow inspire the locals to a higher form of craft than that of other Asian countries.

Soon it is time for us to do some kayaking around the National Park. Susi and I glide over the water as though it’s a smooth gem. The lagoon doesn’t sparkle. Instead it glows, basking the whole area in an ethereal silence. When I look up the limestone cliffs seem to be even higher.

We paddle through some small hidden caves. I find it dark and eerie but soon we enter into a small lagoon where the birds and the plants seem to be in their element. I don’t I think I have breathed in such fresh air, perhaps ever.

Paddling is hard work and neither Susi nor myself are very fit. So by the time we get back we are tired. We get into a different boat now as we are going to cross the open sea towards Cat Ong Eco Private Island where we are staying for the night.

We chat to our fellow travellers and enjoy a few local beers until we reach the island. Our tummies are rumbling and after a quick sunset swim in the sea we are ready for a feast. Small plates of Vietnamese delicacies arrive at the table: fresh and fried spring rolls, fish balls, stir-fries, barbecue prawns and fish, fresh dragon fruit, ah.

The crowd seems festive but I cannot keep my eyes open anymore. I close the mosquito net around my cosy bed in the bamboo beach hut and fall into a peaceful sleep.

Hanoi’s Old Quarter is picture perfect

Silk Street is a bustle this morning. Street vendors are carrying baskets of luscious fruit and vegetables like scales around their necks, or on the back of bicycles.

Our cyclo (similar to a rickshaw) drops us at Little Hanoi restaurant here in the silk shop area of Hang Gai, for some breakfast. Perhaps we would have done better in ordering the local food options as my BLT comes with really tough bacon and Susi’s toasted sandwich is pretty oily.

However, the local coffee has oomph to it and with food in our tummies we are ready to walk around the Old Quarter, where French colonial architecture and Asian scents exist in harmony with the narrow congested streets and carefully made handicrafts.

That’s one thing about Vietnam, the products really are made with care. Lacquer work cannot be mass produced because it involves a timely process that has to be done by hand, while the embroidery and silk work cannot even be compared to the cheap standard in China. The Vietnamese seem to take pride in quality, not quantity.

Even the noodles they so love to eat are freshly made, daily, and have to be used or discarded by the end of the day.

Everywhere I look is a pretty picture… lantern shops, Buddhist statues, cyclists wearing pointy straw hats, sidewalk cafes… that’s until we get to the fish market – chunks of meat sitting out in the sun, fish or not, has never been pretty and it makes my stomach turn.

Soon Susi and I are getting weighed down with all our shopping bags and decide to make our way back to our hotel, stopping at Ocean Tours, to arrange a boat trip to Halong Bay for the next three days.

Getting past the visa to Vietnam

“We refuse to process visas for Africans. I trust you will understand.”

This is the reply my German friend Susi receives from Vietnam after making an express visa enquiry for both of us.

She writes back: “If Lize cannot get a visa neither of us can go and spend money in your country, as we are on holiday together. I trust you will understand.”

One day later we both have our visa confirmation and I even get to pay the European fee of $40 at Noi Bai airport instead of the African fee of $80.

Our good luck lasts as we find a great budget room at Hanoi Stars Hotel in the Old Quarter. The rooms are clean, furnished in dark wood and fitted with a small safe, while the lift is certainly an asset as I over packed and carrying my suitcase up the narrow stairs is not an option.

Susi and I are both tired after all the visa stress and travelling, so we decide to grab a quick bite down the road and make sure we get a good night’s rest before hitting the city in the morning.

What a great surprise to find fresh and flavourful food at an unassuming little restaurant late at night. Good food is always a good start to any holiday.

“Susi,” I say before I fall asleep, “if I don’t find love I will marry for a European passport.”