Experience means sweating

I went on a walk this evening because it was unusually cool and the sky resembled, well, sky. For me, walks are as essential to writing as a pen or keyboard. But in this instance when my lack of organization, time and motivation has led me to a four-day lapse in blogging, I find a walk to be as essential as breathing.

Whether my walk was to escape or to just get lost (you know how I like to do that) I’m not really sure. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. With 17 million Chinese people in one city, and 80 or so American journalists in a hotel, it’s rare to catch a solitary moment. You begin to blend in more with each other, and as a result stick out more in the crowd. And while it seems that Chinese culture is privy to mixing themselves with others, I just can’t. I’m frightened of being labeled as “that girl from Missouri,” but at the same time I’m tired of being seen as a novelty for my round, blue eyes (we are all constantly stared at). I think everyone can testify that being “cool” has always eluded me; I would so much prefer ice cream to alcohol, a museum to a bar or a quiet walk to a loud, late night. So sometimes escaping into yourself and remembering how you are different is vital and getting lost is just preferred.

I didn’t, however, have much opportunity to get lost these last few days. As we were bussed around the city we were lost to memories within American music and YouTube. While it’s only been a few weeks at times it feels like months. We have all stopped questioning what we are eating and either just accepted the cuisine or else quit all together (don’t worry, mom, I chose the former). A trip to McDonalds or Pizza Hut is a happy occasion, but on the plus side, we are all becoming very professional with our chopsticks (although we still aren’t wearing white clothing to meals). As a result of our tour, I’m pretty sure I know more about Beijing than Fort Worth now, and could probably give you better directions. However, having seen the water purification plant and government housing, I’m also certain that Friday was a day centered on propaganda. Despite their best efforts, I’m still not drinking the water!

While Friday was as transparent as air, Saturday and Sunday did offer the essentials of a genuine tour. I feel as if I should enter this part with a drum roll, however, my music skills are on par with my math, so I suggest using your imaginations. Achem, yes, I have seen the second wonder of the world, the Great Wall of China. I mentioned earlier that I don’t consider myself a writer. I didn’t say that to get comments. As much as I want to be a writer, I truly can’t see myself as one until I have met my goals. However, I feel like if I can express to you what I saw on top of that wall than I might be one step closer.

The wall is outside of the city and that day the sky was completely blue, but the hills and mountains still hid behind a mask of smog and clouds. Their grandeur made the city dissolve behind us as we wound our way through the paved streets that seem to bow to the whim of the hills rather than interfere. The wall stretches for 621 miles and so began long before we arrived at our particular spot. You can see as it too bows and weaves around the mountain. Like a freckle atop skin, the wall only adds character to its already impressive host. Your eyes follow as it disappears behind a nook of a hill, reemerging on another hill or side. Some of it is torn and beaten from centuries of duty.

After parking and dodging the masses of people attempting to sell us postcards, hats and fans we walked through a street that boasted a Starbucks, which resulted in cheers of gratitude from a group that has felt quite deprived. As we neared the top of the street and the winding entrance to the ancient wall we were stopped because the president of Mexico decided to take a trip to the wall as well (suddenly our blue eyes, blonde hair and American accents hold no merit). Long story short, thirty minutes later we let out a big cheer as the Chinese military allowed us to pass them and then, I’m sure, they erupted into a raucous of laughter after watching us cascade into each other. Like cattle we prodded, pushed and screeched at each other in a multitude of languages, before finally reaching the stairs that would allow us to touch the ancient relic.

We joked around as we gracefully followed the initial bits of the wall. Not only did it serve as a physical defense for ancient China, but it works as a psychological one as well. We played in the small openings of the first guard tower. The tiny corridors worked as a maze, and I was the only one who needn’t duck! We paused for scads of pictures before staring stupidly at the height of our endeavor. The top was easily visible, but the uneven steps stood testament to ancient Chinese defense, and we struggled to keep from sliding down the slopes or collapsing. I had never imagined the wall being so difficult to maneuver, and I kept thinking about the millions of individuals who spent centuries carrying stones up the unwavering hills.

Eventually the wall overtook me and I gave up, not quite reaching the top guard tower. I can’t say that I had an epiphany, discovered the meaning of life or achieved enlightenment (I need to have Dave Matthews playing for that to ever happen), but it was astounding to see. Some had stayed behind and others had gone on, so I rested comfortably in the middle alone. Beneath my feet stood thousands of years of imperial rule paranoid about vulnerability and below that stood probably millennia of earth that had yet to succumb to the development of modernity. The pair has relied on each other for centuries of solitude. The wall is allowed to rest upon the hills while warding off threats of development simply because it’s there. Leaning against the wall so as not to slide back the way I came, I gazed past the stone structure and over the horizon of the hills. They ran pure green and together the wall and hills were frozen in time. As cliché as it may be, I felt as if the grass blanketing the hills and the ancient stones could combine to expel centuries of tales. I felt as if all the discrepancies of history could be dispelled by a whisper of agreement from both nature and civilization, which had witnessed so much. The wall only made up a thin part of the clustered hills. The rest was littered with purity and solitude. For once I wanted to blend into the landscape, become a part of what the wall and those hills knew. Perhaps even to escape for a time from the ills of civilization that the pair had so willfully fended off.

While there is more to tell, I think this should suffice for now. We are currently in our training for the Olympics, so I will be sure to regale y’all with stories from that as soon as they become interesting! Love to all,

Ziajian
~Molly