Now, I knew these sites would require a lot of walking, but sometimes you just forget how much a tourist actually walks. And so we were out each day, walking nearly from dawn to dusk, with Beijing still pretty hot in the middle of the day, mid-80s or more, I was sure.
Meanwhile, I had assessed the typical Beijing wardrobe, which was jeans and a t-shirt, and I decided to blend in, all the while, secretly longing for my shorts, which would have made me ever so much more comfortable, but instantly stand out as a tourist. You might scoff and think that people would think we were tourists anyway, but actually, it turned out that I could easily pass for Chinese (I’m third generation Japanese-American). I blended in pretty well, at least until I had to open my mouth, or if I was doing something blatantly touristy, such as staring at a map. To be honest, I wasn't certain whether this was a blessing or a curse. I felt safer, but at the same time, it was harder to get help.
Anyway, each day we walked and baked, walked and baked, and all you wanted to do was drink soda or water or eat ice cream. We did plenty of each.
The sights themselves were wonderful, although after you have been to two or three places, all of your pictures look suspiciously the same. The architecture was very close in the Forbidden City, the temples, and the tombs. It was at this point, that I started to see some of the wisdom I’d read from some of the Lonely Planet ilk, who self-satisfyingly said, “Don’t forget, real travelers go to see the people, not the history.” Or some ridiculous thing like that.
And that philosophy had always bothered me, because I wanted to see the historical sights. That was what I wanted to see most of all. And yet, by the time we dragged ourselves to the Temple of Heaven, I was thoroughly charmed by the people…and only marginally interested in the history.
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