Saturday, May 12, 2018
Today we began by checking out of the hotel we stayed at in Beijing. Sitting on the bus, the landscape quickly evaded our vision as it receded into a thick fog, but after an hour or so bus ride, we arrived at the Great Wall's East Gate (Dong Merrr). Here, we disembarked from the bus and began the strenuous climb to reach the wall. By the time we arrived, we had broken a sweat, and the fog was beginning to clear, so that the mountainous surroundings were able to show themselves properly. A marathon was taking place along the wall, so our walking was punctuated by various (almost all foreigners) runners and walkers huffily passing (one of whom happened to be a former dialogue student who had shown us around Tsinghua University yesterday). The steps were haphazard —constantly we were reminded by signs to take caution in our stepping. The path would dip in sharp parabolas to match the natural contours of the hilly region that this section of the wall was built atop. The stones were all likely locally sourced and varied wildly in texture in color, the only consistent aspect being the wall which they served to compose. To imagine that for hundreds of years, near uninterrupted, archers sat atop this wall through all the days and nights to help divide an outer world from what was considered known, was a strange and difficult notion, particularly in light of the fact that afterwards, when Dong Laoshi inquired which side was which, I was utterly clueless.
From the wall we descended to the bus, which drove another hour or so on rocky unpaved roads to reach the small village where we were treated to possibly the most resplendent of the meals we have had yet in our short time in China. We were greeted by a sweet woman decked out in Northeastern gear, undoubtedly acquired in past years as gifts from the Dialogue. The fields were full of beautiful sprouts: spinach, blooming scallion, leek, potato, and many other plants, to which we were introduced after the meal. They were all grown in community gardens and did not make use of artificial fertilizers. However, this time was fated to be brief, as the flight had been moved forward an hour. So, cutting short the elements of this stop which were centered around a discussion with the village chairman Zhang (who refused to accept this moniker, in its place preferring the term Da Ge, which means big brother), we only had time for a short tour of his garden before boarding the bus. The village, towered over by a massive mountain, was full of bees and flowers. It had a small mosque which apparently was extant from the Ming Dynasty. Waving goodbye to Zhang Da Ge and others was surreal after experiencing for just a moment a breath of their lives, which they so lovingly allowed us to participate in for the afternoon.
All exhausted, the bus ride quickly passed by in a succession of bobbing heads, before we reached the airport, attempting to rest in preparation for the next month which we will spend in Chengdu.
- Aidan M.
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