Hitting the Wall

What a great day for a Great Wall climb! Temp: 90. Humidity: 150%. Okay, not really, but it was--warm.

But first, a stop at the Jade Factory. This announcement by our guide Grace was met with a chorus of murmured groans. We’ve come to expect these factory visits to be little more than a cattle-herding exercise through a cursory, if entertaining, lecture on the artisan process of the day. Generally they’re very well-scripted and efficiently managed, given the size and number of tour groups passing through. But you’re only allowed a mere taste of information about the process. A quick explanation of the steps from raw material to finished product, some jokes from the factory guide, and then it’s time to shop. Or else.

The jade factory was no different, although the masterpieces on display in the visitor/lecture gallery were stunning, exquisite. I would have been quite happy to spend more time there, just examining those. Unfortunately, the flow of traffic is greatest in this area, with enormous groups and their shouting herders passing through, so it’s impossible to linger over any one display.

Our guide did warn everyone not to “waste other people’s time” by ordering a jade stamp with name and astrological sign carved in it; that those who wanted such a thing could put their orders on a list that she would fax to the factory for later delivery to the hotel. Go, Grace! It made for a quick turn-around in spite of the crowds and the miles of stuff for sale, and we were out within the hour. Time to visit the Wall.

I’ve never been particularly drawn to China, neither to its history or its wonders, in the abstract. The Wall impressed me, it didn’t call to me. But I couldn’t help feeling a thrill at my first glimpse of it, as the bus moved into the mountains.

God, it was hot. I was apprehensive just climbing the stairs to the entrance area. The little umbrellas we bought the other day are treated with a coating that filters out some of the sun’s radiation, so we opened them. The sun just laughed.

How was I going to manage this? I’m relatively fit for my age; I work out regularly, if not passionately, and I dance. What are a few thousand stairs?

Yeah, but these aren’t stairs so much as individual monuments to climb. You wouldn’t think a rather short people like the Chinese would build such tall risers—many, it seemed to me, well over a foot.

We climbed. We climbed some more. We rested, then we climbed. We rested, and rested some more. Made it to the first tower, after a long stretch with no landings on which to catch our breath, collapsed. After a rest of five minutes or so, we headed up to the next landing. I didn’t think my heart was capable of such pounding. After another long rest, I proposed going on to the next stop—the second tower. Carl declined. I went up. Made the tower, gasping. And decided: All righty, then.

It was perversely gratifying to see that even little kids were struggling for air.

And then of course I had to get the cheesy “certificate” attesting to my heroic accomplishment, complete with photo, name, and date. The legend “The Hero Card” written at the top. I wonder what the real heroes get, the ones who make it all the way to the eighth tower? A medal? A trophy? Free ice cream?

Afterward, we dragged ourselves back on the bus, more than ready for lunch. The plan at the time was to visit the Cloisonné Factory (groan) and have lunch, then head back to the hotel.

Lunch and the factory were, surprisingly, at an old Friendship Store, one of those state-owned stores where foreigners could once get the Western goods—like peanut-butter—that they missed from home. Because only foreign exchange certificates were accepted, Chinese people weren’t allowed to shop there. But those days are gone, and now the store stocks Chinese wares, including a section of official Olympics tchotchkes. Plus, the goods from the attached cloisonné factory.

That over, we loaded ourselves onto the bus once more and prepared to head back to the hotel. Yay!

Except, a few folks complained about not going to see Olympic Village, and so the schedule was changed to accommodate them. I won’t talk about that now, though. [Edited to perform snarkectomy.]