Beijing: The Good

Gulou (Drum Tower)

Beijing. An ambush on the senses that puts American cities to shame - no wonder we [Americans] feel so blasé about our surroundings that for lack of creativity seem manifested from singular streams of consciousness (or perhaps it's just me?). Beijing is a place unlike any other, a surreptitious beacon of debilitating metaphysical stimulation transpiring into the realm of reality. Centuries old temples and hutongs loom in stark contrast to glimmering glass and steel skyscrapers abutted by bustling shopping malls mega-arenas. The sour taste of communism  usurped by sweet capitalist enterprise, evident by zealous young people touting their Louis Vuitton bags and zipping their exotic sports cars past 80-year-old [peasants] collecting recyclables to put on their 'pick-up' bicycles. The affluent come home to apartments adorned in marbles, granites, rich woods and crystal chandeliers, greeted by their ayi(s) [live-in servants] while the peasant slowly pedals to their one room home down a narrow, dirty alleyway. THIS is the REAL CHINA. 

It's difficult to convey in words my reflections on a long, drawn-out experience that for better or worse not only shapes one's transition to adulthood but also weaves his fibers of what can only be described as 'cultural character,' that is, extinguishing all concept of precognition in favor of embracing self-devotion to opening one's mind for all life's possibilities. I am but one of many whom have experienced this 'je-ne-sais-quoi' in China, her energy measured in units of foregone bias and life-changing friendships. For all that was my time in Beijing, I embrace that which I came to love in this first installment - Beijing: The Good. 

Zhonglou (Bell Tower)

Throughout my adolescence China was a dark place, a keeper of the mysterious exploits my grandfather and his brother undertook in the 1940s. Sadly, he died several years before I was born. Alas I would only hear third-person snippets of his many stories, mainly of ongoing altercations with Mao's communists, a daring escape from house arrest to safety in Hong Kong, and how Manchuria was the coldest place he'd ever been. It was a place whose lingering shadow cast over my father, who unbeknownst to the Chinese was an FBI special agent. A blood-red and gold colored invitation to an embassy ball celebrating the 33rd anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China glared at me through its glass frame in the foyer, as if greeting me with a smirk whenever I came or went. Always drawn to my beloved Europe, I nor anyone could have predicted my destiny awaited me in the Middle Kingdom.

There were no words as my new colleagues and I entered Destination, a jam-packed gay discotheque in the embassy/expat filled Chaoyang District. I hadn't heard much about being gay in China ahead of my trip, having subconsciously decided fooled myself that I would stay in the closet....that lasted 5 days. Though I would later come to refer this discotheque - like many other gay expats - as "Desperation," that first night cleansed the slate of my aforementioned perception of a cold, dark China with what I presumed to be teenaged go-go dancers leading a thousand drunk, horny men from all backgrounds to dance wildly to EDM. The cast of Queer as Folk would have $h!T themselves. My colleagues disappeared in the maze of rooms leaving me to flirt and tease my way to the bar - getting a free drink in the process -- "it's good to be the King a foreigner!"

Forbidden City from atop Jingshan Park

My first home was far from the energetic life force driving Beijing. Two hours via multiple buses, subways, and walking brought me to the quiet, less developed southwest corner of the city. To this day I can't recall exactly where it is. Thankfully I met Alex, a sweet Chinese guy who opened my eyes to a new world, and whom without I would never have survived [China]. He brought me to all the sights and gave me an insight to the city and Chinese culture. Our first weekend together, we went to the Forbidden City, rather, Jingshan Park located across the street. It's 60 RMB (about $10) to enter the Forbidden City, but just 5 RMB (<$1) to hike up the hill top overlooking the former imperial compound. An early snowstorm the night before left a magnificent tracing on the roofs' northern faces.  

Hutong shops around Hohai

For a history buff like me Beijing is a gold mine. Many fantastic sights are within walking distance of each other. My favorites are Gulou and Zhonglou, the Drum and Bell Tower which played a crucial role in ancient China for official timekeeping - all the way until 1924 when it was replaced by western methods. Their quintessential Chinese architecture is pleasing to the eyes both aesthetically and symmetrically. A short walk is Hohai Lake and the many Hutongs (alleyways) lined with shops, restaurants, bars, and night clubs. In warmer months almost all open to the outdoors, live music bursting through the night air as friends and lovers sip signature cocktails or down cheap Tsingtao and Yanjing beers (50 cents per bottle) on the patios and rooftops. 

The lake, however, is the real draw - the center of attention. Old men line the miles long white marble periphery fishing; middle-aged men and women swim in the cool, murky water; young couples row or paddle small leisurely boats. In winter, the frozen lake sees hundreds of ice skaters per day while others opt for ice slays or hover tubes. Ice or no ice, old men continue to fish alongside a few brave souls venturing for a crisp plunge into the icy water (only the weak fear hypothermia!) My first time visiting was a magnificently clear day in early November, so clear that for the first time I could see the distant mountains protecting Beijing from the ever-expanding Gobi Desert. I distinctly remember my elation at checking the US Embassy Air Quality Index on my phone - a blissful 17 [out of 500]; more details about air quality to follow in Part II. 

Roses, Roses everywhere -
as far as the eye can see

For garden aficionados, the grounds of the Temple of Heaven are filled with lush vegetation: wildflower meadows, fruit orchards, rows of cyprus trees, and meticulously manicured gardens dotted with stunning pagodas and imposing mini-palaces. One of more than sixty-thousand distinct tree varieties, giant weeping willows line winding pathways before giving way to overflowing rose beds of countless assortment. In early summer the peonies (national flower of China) are melon sized, billowing fragrant aromas three feet away. 

Built in the 15th century along with the Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven was used by the emperor for ceremonial purposes to honor heavenly patronage of his authority on earth. By design, the temple complex emphasis the greatest of earth's treasures and highlights the balance of nature. Ritualistic sacrifices and offerings were usually made on the winter solstice.  The emperor, joined by his many courtiers and ministers, would spend time in the Palace of Abstinence (from food that is...but not everything) leading up to the ceremony. They then donned extravagant silk robes and prayed for blessings upon China. 


Strolling down the Imperial Walkway Bridge, I finally grasp the temple's imposing scale. Such a large complex allows plenty of space to wander the grounds, even when it's crowded. I enjoy stepping over the high thresholds which are said to keep bad spirits out, passing giant wooden doors hinged to magnificently hand-carved marble archways. Beyond is the Circular Mound Altar baking in the sun like an oversized three-tiered wedding cake. I gawk at the thought of how much spilled blood (if any) has oozed across the smooth aged stones. 

Temple of Heaven

Northwest of Beijing are the Old [and New] Summer Palaces. One beautiful spring day I visited the Old Summer Palace, a massive - and I mean MASSIVE - complex of grounds that consisted of many villages, palaces, temples, shrines, and pagodas. Think Versailles on steroids. Much like Louis XIV, the Emperor of China moved his court from the Forbidden City five miles away to this new Imperial Palace. And like Kings of France, the Qing Emperors hired architects and artisans to create for them the most luxurious palace in the world. The Fountain Palace stood above all others with it's unique fusion of Oriental and European architecture, creating a breathtaking model of the close ties sought between East and West.

Pagoda in center of Walled Maze
Old Summer Palace

However, the grandiose palace was short lived. During the Second Opium War, French and English forces laid siege on Beijing and in an effort to force the Emperor's surrender, pillaged and plundered the Imperial Palace before a final order was passed down to completely destroy it. Strolling past giant stone building blocks, some intricately carved, I marvel at the ruins which have been placed into position relative their original locations. Inside one exhibit hall is a scale model of the palace grounds as it once stood. It's hard for me to grasp how men (yes, it's always a man's fault) that ego and power [read show of force] repeatedly and relentlessly destroy everything that is beauty. A valiant effort by the Chinese government to raise funds for a complete restoration and eventual reconstruction continues, as well as prolonged reacquisition of looted artworks from collections across the world. 

Original Palace Ruins

Artist's rendition of original palace

By the beginning of my first summer, Alex and I moved into our first apartment together next to Sanlitun, the epicenter of expat life. I'd dare say it's comparable to Greenwich Village. A major shopping district filled with western brand stores, restaurants, and of course bar street, it was our entertainment hub. From now on we weren't limited to going out at odd hours - it was a mere 5 minute walk to endless social possibilities. Though our compound was rather humble for the area, our next-door neighbors included Lamborghini, Bentley, and Embraer Executive Jets. The wide open area in front of their showrooms was alive with activity throughout the nights, be it groups of synchronized dancers or families exploding fireworks during Chinese New Year. Indeed, we lived at the center of it all. 

O-Ba-Mao!!!

I came to love Beijing's art scene, particularly the galleries and exhibitions in 798 Art District. Once a giant industrial complex dedicated to the communist worker mentality, today it boasts numerous galleries, restaurants, public art displays, and event venues. Quirky shops range in merchandise from local ceramics to satirical posters. Many Chinese artists push the boundaries of state censorship to create controversial, provocative exhibits of China's ever evolving culture. My most memorable time in 798 was New Year's Eve 2012 at the YEN Party, a massive EDM (electronic dance music) celebration in a former factory. Bright flashes of multi colored lights bounce around the sail-shaped ceiling as four thousand alcohol/drug-induced revelers and I danced our way into 2012. 

798 District

In Tongzhou, on the eastern outskirts of Beijing, our friend Jade and her mother owned a hip gallery in the Songzhuang Artist's Village, home to the greatest concentration of contemporary Chinese artists in the world. More spread out than 798, the individual galleries vary in architecture and style. One of her exhibits showcased works by world-famous graffiti artists, some of whom were present creating new masterpieces on the building wall. Besides great art, there was terrific (yet unforeseen) entertainment when an inebriated local laborer became enraged after he was refused entry (to the open bar). This ass-hat hijacked a three-wheeler, nearly running over two people before subsequently crashing into a pole. The ensuing fight to subdue him was better than anything on reality tv - let's just say EVERYBODY [read 4-6 guys] was Kung-Fu fighting and their kicks (to his face and torso) were quick as lighting. If only I had a video camera. 

Bite*Size Buddha and Suiki

At night Beijing transforms into a party mecca. DJs, bands, and performers the world over descend on her majestic nightlife. Sure, Shanghai has mega-sized clubs and glittering lights, but Beijing's crowded, youth-filled tight spaces offer intimate connections with all forms of musical artistry. The parties I attend are too numerous to recall. Our collection of besties include some of the hottest DJs in China and their various groups - Syndicate, StreetKids, Funk*Fever and many more. I owe a great deal to the sounds of DJs Blackie, Donkey Tonk, Clir, and Yau Ma for helping me discover my true rhythm through their sensational interpretations of Drum & Bass and Dubstep. Through their influence I was fortunate to attend concerts featuring Grand Master Flash, DJ Fresh, DJ Walsh, Crown Duels, Ariel Camass, and countless others. 

One of many Syndicate parties

From breezy summer nights at Migas' classy rooftop terrace to the two-room Hutong club Dada, to Halo's underground discotheque, an energetically vibrant mix of Chinese and expats dance and drink well beyond dawn. Though I highly value my beauty rest, twice I enjoyed watching the sunrise from atop Migas along with a invigorating crowd who by this point were mellowingly sipping their drinks and puffing cigarettes, engaged in pleasant conversations as the sounds of our friend DJ Bite*Size Buddha echoed across the pre-dawn hours. 

Summers bring wild music festivals, such as MIDI and Intro, gathering the best EDM and Drum & Bass DJs in the world. Tens of thousands flock to [the typical] industrial park venues in bohemian, counter-culture fashion, equipped with cheap Chinese beer in one hand and a pocket full of mind-altering substances.  China's draconian anti-drug tactics may have notoriously cracked down on drug usage decades ago, but that hasn't stopped countless dealers (usually from sub-sahara Africa on 'Student Visas') supplying wild millennial party-goers their fixes. When in Rome....

Color throwing party
(My shirt WAS white...)

Abnormally energetic party weekends frequently led to a relaxing Sunday spent at an exclusive, luxury hot spring, my favorite way to rejuvenate for the week ahead. No. 8 Hot Spring, located near the Chaoyang Park West Gate, is the quintessential representation of modern China: decadence and tradition eschew a forbidden exclusivity reminiscent of the Qing Dynasty. By western standards the modest $40 entry fee was by all means highway robbery for most Chinese. For me, it is worth it - the level of service and exquisite atmosphere in the all-male section (nude of course) is as close to heaven as an interior designer can conceive. There is a large, spring fed pool with jets and water massage tables, a smaller cold pool chilled to roughly 60 degrees, saunas, steam rooms, mosaic tile showers, outdoor grotto - even a fish-filled jacuzzi - and endless treatment rooms - all flanked by wooden bridges, palm trees, and starry LED ceiling. I stay here for hours. Whenever I get hungry, a short walk in silk pajamas and comfortable slippers brings me to the extravagant dining room beneath its towering Egyptian-like columns as a pianist serenades us while we feast. 

Fun isn't always measured in late night parties and music festivals - with maybe the exception of a music festival at the 2008 Olympic Rowing venue, where the Olympic gold dreams of Mark Zuckerberg's twin friends, the Winklevii, foundered. Alex and friends would often go to KTV, a chain of Karaoke Bars in China that are actually quite incredible. I am not a singer, never have been - but sometimes I would tag along and belt out "Mrs. Robinson" or "Twist and Shout."  KTV isn't like a karaoke bar in America where people sing in front of the whole establishment. Instead, these are private, themed rooms with full bottle and food service. Friends meet in groups and party/sing for hours. I normally avoid going since Alex and two of his friends would easily stay for 6+ hours - no thank you. 

On several occasions we enjoyed scuba diving with Pacific dolphins at the Beijing Aquarium, despite having to fill our wetsuits with warm water to stave the bone chilling water temperatures. Naturally playful, it's exciting and creepy when a dolphin comes into your peripheral almost face-to-face before letting you softly pet her belly. An adjoining tank had a beluga calf who appeared just as eager to join the party, but sadly was too young. 

Chairwoman of the Ried Stelly
FanClub

When the weather air quality was pleasant we often went to one of the many parks. Towards the west of the city center is Yuyuantan Park (Jade Lake Park) which has a renowned cherry blossom festival each spring. It was here I experienced first hand that awkward 'goldfish bowl' effect being a foreigner whereby random Chinese would approach me for a picture. More amusing was a friend's friend who is black and dressed like a rap star posing with whole groups of strangers, him having no clue why. I couldn't control my laughter when noticing several people hiding behind bushes and trees aiming their telescopic photo lens in our (mainly his) direction. 

As cold, wintry days gave way to the warm spring sunlight we would picnic in Chaoyang Park (Beijing's version of Central Park), surrounded by families playing games and flying kites. Nearby the smaller Tuanjiehu Park provides a more intimate setting with serene water features, oriental bridges, and old people exercising on outdoor fitness machines. By summer the water park opens, giving thousands playful relief from the scorching heat. Though most Chinese shun tanning, local gays are at the forefront, donning their obnoxious child-size underwear or speedos spread out in 'gay corner' like a hot lunch showing off their stuff.  

One hot afternoon we participated in the Color Run, the Happiest 5K in the World with twelve-thousand of our closest friends. Each checkpoint is lined with throwers tossing colored powder at the runners. At the finish line, a massive dance party (I swear, we didn't ALWAYS party) gathered. There was an energetic black man with the build of a Harlem Globetrotter and rhythm of dancer on Soul Train or Dancing with the Stars. The crowd cheered and roared as he forced his way on stage, leaving the scrawny white host to fade in the background of an oversized, bouncing afro (I imagine he had many endorsement deals that evening). 

Amateur Hour

Weekend excursions were plentiful and never dull. 90 minutes by car from central Beijing are a number of ski resorts. Beijing is a very dry place, thus snow seldom falls and when if it does it most certainly never accumulates. However, fake snow densely packed on 2-3 runs is enough to stretch one's legs or in some cases break them when any number of first-time skiers/snowboarders crashes into you. Now that Beijing has won the 2022 Winter Olympics, I presume more people will take up the sports and get just as much enjoyment from it as I. 

But perhaps there were two excursions that stood above all the rest (both to do the same thing): camping on the Great Wall of China. No, I do not mean next to the Wall as some tour companies arrange. I pitched a tent in one of the towers on a section of original ruins. Huanghuacheng (Yellow Flower Wall) is the only place (in Beijing) where the wall is partially submerged. Unlike more tourist friendly sections, the wall here has not been reinforced or updated, leaving behind a mighty original essence. Many cracked, weathered stones create a steep ascending carpet without the luxury of completed side walls, never mind railings. A forty-foot drop on either side combined with the steep hillside is enough to give the bravest of souls acrophobia. Both times we made our way high up the wall to a tower for our camp, with a rickety tree-limb ladder offering access to unparalleled 360 degree views. Sadly, our first time haze thwarted any possible view, even blocking the sunrise. Thanks to modern technology I did however accomplish a once unthinkable feat for a special someone: using Alex's smartphone, I used Skype to call my 92 year old surrogate [grandfather] in Virginia to tell him where I was that very moment. His smile never wore off. 

Friendship knows no walls

The weather was much more cooperative our second time, yet fate decided to toss a mentally unstable person my way as a toll [more to come]. Joined by our close friend Natalie, we built a fire and drank wine well into the evening. Regretfully one of the bottles I brought was a brand called Great Wall; despite stories of how disgusting it was, I figured the cost-benefit of drinking crappy wine called Great Wall while on the Great Wall would balance out a bit. I was sorely mistaken, evidenced by Natalie and I projectile evacuating the wine from our once delicate palates. (Bonus: I hear Air China serves it on their flights!)

The next morning I hiked further along the wall as it snakes up and down and up the mountains. I came to one area where the whole side of the wall was missing, revealing the support structure and fillings: cement, gravel, and wooden beams - a sort of Ming era reinforced concrete. With no around to disturb me, I sat down and meditated as the warm rays of first light struck my face and the sounds and smells of nature whisked in the wind. 

Great Wall Sunrise

I am often asked what it's like being gay in China, and truthfully I find it very relaxing. For starters, the big cities have so much cross-cultural interaction that few expats quarrel with LGBT - after all, we're all foreigners in the same Chinese boat. Young Chinese are very fashion forward wearing bright colors, tight clothes, patterns, etc, meaning there is no such thing as "looking gay." Unlike more civilized western societies, lack of religion means no one is berating anti-LGBT slogans on tv or at Pride events; instead most people focus on themselves (what a NOVEL idea!) 

Thursday is gay night - always. Our close group of gay friends - Catalin, Oscar, Krishna, Keith, Nick, Eddie, Chou and David - rendezvous at either of Cat's bars, Transit (ranked #27 - Best Restaurant in Asia) or Cicada for a pre-game cocktail before walking over to Mesh at the fabulously chic Opposite House Hotel for Beijing's premiere gay-happy hour. Mostly gay expats and visitors in their smart, polished appearance, wind down their week [or jumpstart their weekend] by gathering for pleasant conversation and much needed social interaction (no cruising types here). From here, some of the younger crowd will venture to the claustrophobic, smoke-filled Kai Bar for dancing, groping, and occasional scrimmages at the dance pole, showing off one's limber capacity (or lack there-of). 

All else aside, what made Beijing truly great were the many friendships. Through the smorgasbord of people I came to call my friends, too numerous to list by name, their individual cultures, views, and character steered my constantly evolving perceptions of humanity. They allowed me to experience wonderful things and led me to discoveries around Beijing that otherwise I may never have come across. Whether we gathered at Heaven - a liquor store that serves mixers so you can drink right there in the establishment - or walked our dogs along the canals and through the embassy district, their friendships gave me an eternal sense of home. Without them, Beijing will never be the same. 

G-Team