China was...
red lanterns, green water, sooty black smoke. China was blaring horns and bicycle bells and the chugging of a million consumptive engines. With the exception of two five-year-olds, China was on the make. (Hello hello hello? Do you like Chinese art? Looka looka, yes, I mean you, look! No way to make eye contact, much less stop to talk, because people would chase you down the street prodding you in the arm.) China was humid, treacly air cleaned suddenly by fat, windless rain. Smells of smoke and spice and sewers, and the impossibility of communication. China was celebrating its national holiday for nearly a week and a half. China was all going somewhere on trains, so we never made it to Xi'an. China was a thousand faces at every street crossing, all marching about their own determined business. It was puppies for sale on the street and a dozen people gathered around a TV on the back of a bike. It was more delicious food than you could possibly eat for pennies, and Fired Frog Wigh Wild Chili, Tiger beer and six-year-old Great Wall wine. It was everyone hawking and spitting all the time. It was faraway voices practicing operatic scales in parks at dusk. It was overwhelming and frustrating and thrilling and ugly and beautiful all at the same time.
And because I care about your immortal souls, here's
A Lost Parable of the Buddha
There were once two travellers, newly come to a city. They had heard that at the heart of this city lay a mighty palace, forbidden to all but true seekers, wherein lay great spiritual riches.
“Let us go to the Palace of Enlightenment,” one said to the other, “for in it we will find Beauty, Truth, and even an audioguide voiced by James Bond.”
“Yes,” said the second traveller, “but lo, we must go by the Street of Worldly Riches and Passions, which is called Wangfujing. I need to buy a phrasebook.”
So they set out upon their journey. One said to the other, “We must hasten to the Palace, for it holds much that is true and wise.”
“But look! Audio-Visual Supermarket!”
And the travellers turned from their way unto the Audio-Visual Supermarket and bought many Studio Ghibli DVDs for 80p each. Let the faithful take heed: DVD lust is a viper that wraps around the soul and drags it down into inevitable suffering and remorse, when it finds out later on that the DVDs are only subtitled in Chinese.
So laden, they resumed the journey. But the Street of Worldly Passions was paved with snares, flashing lights and floating balloons and bright colours which distracted them from the quieter beauty ahead, and they turned aside a second time and entered a shopping mall. “We can reach the Palace yet,” they said, “let us meet back here at a quarter to two.”
And the time came, and one by the force of his will succeeded in escaping from the traps and illusions of the Sony Centre, and was ready to fare onwards towards the Palace, but found that the other had not come to the meeting place at the appointed time, for she was hiding in a changing room from a flock of over-eager salesgirls all half the width of herself.
And he waited, and at last she came forth, saying, “Let me find an ATM,” and armed with more money she turned back to get that nice blue jumper. “Now let us hurry to the Palace,” she said.
“But first,” he said, “let us sit on this bench and have a fag,” for they were tired. So they sat on the bench, and they had a fag, and then one said he was hungry, and the other agreed, so they turned from their way yet again to find fast food, whereupon they discovered a shop selling that cool phone that lights up like a glowstick.
“It’s getting late,” one traveller said, “I wonder how long the Palace of Enlightenment will be open.”
“Ooh,” said the other, looking across the street, “books!”
And they turned aside unto the Foreign Language Bookshop, and bought phrasebooks and maps of China and notebooks with amusing slogans, as the sun sank in the sky.
It was nearing sunset, and the travellers were now slow of foot, laden down with all the possessions they had gathered on the Street of Worldly Riches. But stoutly they crossed the bridge, and entered the outer gate, and reached the gates of the Palace. The gates were closed! They had delayed too long.
All those of you who seek Buddhahood, pay heed to this parable and do not waste your span on earth indulging your worldly whims; in the sunset of your own life you may end up like the two travellers, who did not reach Enlightenment and remained chained to the wheel of death and rebirth*.
* went back to the hostel and had a beer
I'm at a loss to write about the Forbidden City, when we made it there the next day. It was amazing, yes, but it feels as if its patch in idea-space has already been picked clean of all possible words by all the other people who've written about it, so I'm just going to show it to you, along with lots of other Beijing pictures. Till I get wifi again, the first lot are here.
And because I care about your immortal souls, here's
A Lost Parable of the Buddha
There were once two travellers, newly come to a city. They had heard that at the heart of this city lay a mighty palace, forbidden to all but true seekers, wherein lay great spiritual riches.
“Let us go to the Palace of Enlightenment,” one said to the other, “for in it we will find Beauty, Truth, and even an audioguide voiced by James Bond.”
“Yes,” said the second traveller, “but lo, we must go by the Street of Worldly Riches and Passions, which is called Wangfujing. I need to buy a phrasebook.”
So they set out upon their journey. One said to the other, “We must hasten to the Palace, for it holds much that is true and wise.”
“But look! Audio-Visual Supermarket!”
And the travellers turned from their way unto the Audio-Visual Supermarket and bought many Studio Ghibli DVDs for 80p each. Let the faithful take heed: DVD lust is a viper that wraps around the soul and drags it down into inevitable suffering and remorse, when it finds out later on that the DVDs are only subtitled in Chinese.
So laden, they resumed the journey. But the Street of Worldly Passions was paved with snares, flashing lights and floating balloons and bright colours which distracted them from the quieter beauty ahead, and they turned aside a second time and entered a shopping mall. “We can reach the Palace yet,” they said, “let us meet back here at a quarter to two.”
And the time came, and one by the force of his will succeeded in escaping from the traps and illusions of the Sony Centre, and was ready to fare onwards towards the Palace, but found that the other had not come to the meeting place at the appointed time, for she was hiding in a changing room from a flock of over-eager salesgirls all half the width of herself.
And he waited, and at last she came forth, saying, “Let me find an ATM,” and armed with more money she turned back to get that nice blue jumper. “Now let us hurry to the Palace,” she said.
“But first,” he said, “let us sit on this bench and have a fag,” for they were tired. So they sat on the bench, and they had a fag, and then one said he was hungry, and the other agreed, so they turned from their way yet again to find fast food, whereupon they discovered a shop selling that cool phone that lights up like a glowstick.
“It’s getting late,” one traveller said, “I wonder how long the Palace of Enlightenment will be open.”
“Ooh,” said the other, looking across the street, “books!”
And they turned aside unto the Foreign Language Bookshop, and bought phrasebooks and maps of China and notebooks with amusing slogans, as the sun sank in the sky.
It was nearing sunset, and the travellers were now slow of foot, laden down with all the possessions they had gathered on the Street of Worldly Riches. But stoutly they crossed the bridge, and entered the outer gate, and reached the gates of the Palace. The gates were closed! They had delayed too long.
All those of you who seek Buddhahood, pay heed to this parable and do not waste your span on earth indulging your worldly whims; in the sunset of your own life you may end up like the two travellers, who did not reach Enlightenment and remained chained to the wheel of death and rebirth*.
* went back to the hostel and had a beer
I'm at a loss to write about the Forbidden City, when we made it there the next day. It was amazing, yes, but it feels as if its patch in idea-space has already been picked clean of all possible words by all the other people who've written about it, so I'm just going to show it to you, along with lots of other Beijing pictures. Till I get wifi again, the first lot are here.