In my ‘yoof’, parks were places for surreptitious smoking, kissing girls in secret (and finding out that your father – who had wondered why you were disappearing from home – had followed you), trying booze, being sick and fighting. Beijing’s major parks, which mark the points of the compass around the Forbidden City, contain few, if any, of these……..indiscretions. Instead, like a true Gemini, they have two faces. On the one sit brash tour guides shouting the odds through crackly speakers and herding their troops by making random screams and wearing umbrellas or flags on their heads. On the other, older Beijingers sit quietly in groups playing cards, enjoying a spot of communal exercise or flying expertly crafted bird-of-prey kites. The parks are scenes of utter contrast.
I got caught in an electric storm today in Taintan Park, south of the centre. I had spent a hugely uncomfortable half hour getting heckled and henpecked by the silk and pearl vendors in the local market, and retreated to the park to enjoy the sun and some solitude. Cue the tour guides, mainly Hamlin-piping flocks of Chinese tourists from one temple to another in a whirlwind of tick-box history and cultural experiences. The soup of people dispersed a little further into this beautiful park of twisted and ancient cypress and juniper trees, where I could savour a little peace.
The vast domed rectangle of green and foliage set amongst the hard streets is special, that’s for sure. Soft music is played though speakers designed to look like lanterns and, if you delve into the woods, you are rewarded with calm, nature and, most of all, space. The odd old man on a tricycle and sporting a straw hat slowly pedalling a load of tree cuttings down perfectly manicured alleys completes the photographer’s scene.
Beijingers live shoulder to shoulder all day; pushing onto subway trains, skipping queues, jostling for pavement-room and dodging stalls, smells, shit, each other, and occasionally their own reflection in mirrored shop-fronts and high-rises. So they love a good park. Who doesn’t? And they make the most of the green afforded to them. Tai Chi is the perfect parkside activity: it’s silent, slow, measured and methodical. And it can be done in groups. Collective exercise, whether dancing or martial arts, is popular and springs up on street corners and grassy areas like forgotten bulbs of last year. I joined in. Fun, if a little awkward. Not sure if I was meant to, but it gave everyone a giggle. Jacky Chan I am not, although I still class myself as a ‘Ninja’ after reaching 6th Kyu in Ninjutsu just fifteen years ago. Different country, I guess……!
Anyway, the electric storm came, wild and swift like an unprovoked assault. I had a story of William Lindsay in my head (see previous blog entry): two walkers on the Great Wall, who, caught in similar circumstances, determined to hide in a fortress. Bad Mistake. The highest point on the wall afforded them no real protection but rather provided an acceptable point for the fork to hit. They were found together, rigid and expired, a few days later. For some reason I had migrated with the herd (as all good sheep should) to one of the temple buildings in the park. The storm was vicious; I dodged snapping and falling branches as I ran to shelter. Under tiles and brick, surrounded by iron gates and other massive super-conductors, I sensed my folly. I legged it. The other people must have thought I’d lost my mind. Soaked, but safer on lower ground, I thought I may have overreacted as the storm suddenly passed on. I think everyone survived this time!
What the storm left behind was a clear sky and empty paths, a beautiful and justly-rewarded treat for my ambitious sprint. Just goes to show that even without smoking, booze, vomit, stolen kisses and punch-ups, parklife can be an amazing way to see folk!
