Beijing: 798, Good Pizza & Gross Beer, Doppelgangers

The morning after our chicken hearts Beau, Lucas and I were trying to decide what to do (Li was still asleep). I still hadn't been to The Great Wall, but it was Sunday and I didn't want to go on a weekend... not to mention I had missed the sign-up cutoff time. Lucas jokingly suggested we go to the theme park because Li had been asking us to go all week. We actually looked into it and it seemed pretty fun. However, the reviews advised to stay away on the weekend because of crowds. We told Li we would go tomorrow. I was planning on going to the Great Wall tomorrow, but pushed it back another day. I joked that I would keep putting it off (this was the third time I had done it) until I left Beijing and didn't even go see the one attraction I knew anything about in China. Beau suggested we go to an art district called 798. Apparently it was a bunch of old hangars and warehouses turned into art exhibits. And it was free. Of course Li wasn't thrilled with tagging along to a cultural event, so he begged off and Lucas, Beau, and I went without him.



We had to take a subway and a bus to get there, but we made it. It was pretty neat. Some of the stuff was a bit boring (paintings and such), but some were funny- regal Chinese man poised elegantly on a horse, his hair billowing in the wind. There was also a wall that had cut-outs of the man and woman silhouettes found outside restrooms. You know, the one with the woman wearing a triangle dress. They were built into the wall and they were big enough for (most) people to climb into. Beau fit perfectly into the man- so perfect that a bunch of Chinese wanted photos with him. The woman was smaller and I just a tiny bit too tall. I squeezed in anyway, though.

I am not quite Asian size...

798 Art District was neat, but we grew tired of it after a couple hours. We found a nice touristy pizza place nearby and had lunch. I don't know if it was a Chinese chain (doubtful), but it was tasty. We also shared a mini keg of beer. It was more comical than anything. The beer was awful and the last few drinks were flat and warm-- we drank it all of course, but it was really more like gross water than anything else. Oh China. Saying "Oh China" (or "Oh Japan," "Oh Philippines," "Oh Asia" etc., whatever applies) really helps diffuse otherwise unfortunate situations. Sure, watery, flat, warm beer isn't necessarily a situation that calls for diffusing, but stepping in a puddle of urine, being ripped off, getting shoved... all of those things are better if you just say "Oh China," thus reminding yourself where you are, what culture you are allowed to experience, etc. Yeah, "allowed". I feel it's a privilege to be able to witness a society so different from my own. So many others view it as a right. But I am digressing into a topic much more in-depth than good pizza and bad beer. Maybe I will pick it up later.

So after the good pizza and bad beer we made our way back to the hostel. Beau signed our names on a graffiti wall in the restaurant first, though. After some time at the hostel- I think I watched some Arrested Development and probably drank some more crappy beer- Beau, Gareth, and I went to the restaurant down the street. I would like to point out that a significant amount of time passed between lunch and dinner. I didn't just eat the entire time I was in China. (Although I could have, the food was that good, and that cheap). There was a kid working at the restaurant. He looked like he was about twelve or thirteen and he was probably the owner's son. It is bizarre how even in a place so far from everything I know, I found a kid who reminded me of my little brother, Sam. The Chinese Sam even had a similar haircut. I guess thirteen-year-old boys are fairly similar the world around, but the shy mannerisms, the body build, how he carried himself, his smile! So much about this Chinese Sam reminded me of my brother American Sam. It was uncanny. In Shanghai I met a girl from Hong Kong who reminded me of a Chinese version of my Spanish friend and host sister, and in Manila I met a Canadian guy who looked and even had the same laugh as another brother (Jeff). Maybe I should make an album of all these doppelgangers. I met a guy in Tokyo who looks like my friend Dan. I have photos of all these foreigners except for Chinese Sam because even with Gareth there, I couldn't think of a way to explain in a non-creepy way why I wanted to take this kid's photo. The food was of course delicious. As we were leaving there was a manhole open in the foyer of the restaurant, and some men were heaving bucketful after bucketful of water out of the restaurant basement and chucking them into the street. Oh China.