Beijing by Bike

Magda and crowd waiting at the Mongolian Embassy window
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We've now gotten Magda's Mongonlian visa, without the hassles we expected. Like her bigger neighbors Mongolia has joined in the 'by invitation only' game, and asks you to account for your whereabouts. Unlike her neighbors, Mongolia is very small and, having controlled most of the know world at one point, is not all that worried about enforcing its rules. Mongolia has mellowed.

The scene in front of the embassy was chaotic since the visa windows were right there on the sidewalk. A lonely guard across the street in a baggy uniform looked longingly at the chaos from his post in front of the Ethiopean embassy. Not much going on over there.

We felt like royalty in a city built for bikes, the People's transport

Tri-Tandem
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Inside the windows, embassy employees worked madly to process papers, stamping furiously and once accidentally knocking over a pile of applications and passports, hopelessly mixing them up on the floor. A poster commemorating the once vast Mongolian empire watched over the dimly lit room.

We made two trips, once to drop off and another to pick up and each time the scene was the same. Mongolia seems to be a very popular place to go.

When we had the visa, we could finally start doing serious tourist activities. We headed to the infamous 'Silk Market' where goods of questionable origin can be had at bargain prices, if you know how to haggle. The only thing we really wanted were sunglasses so we headed to the proper level of the building and were instantly immersed in the most aggressive fakes market we've been in yet. Customers were almost literally fighting with the ladies behind the stalls. I was nervous, despite all my experience in crazy markets now, but Magda, Magda was in her element. She was ready for battle. We strolled between stalls, avoiding eye contact. I overheard one man pleading with a saleslady to give his glasses back, he had to go. She wouldn't give them to him if he didn't buy a watch. He became red faced and angry. She calmy withheld his property. How she got them to begin with I don't know.

In the Hutongs
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When we finally settled on a sunglasses seller, we browsed, the young lady handing us a ridiculous variety to try on. I found a pair I did like and asked for her starting price. She must have thought I was a dope so she made up an insane number. Something like 400rmb (60 bucks) I countered with a fraction of her first price, 50 rmb (about 8 bucks) which was probably still too high. She refused, she said I was crazy and to stop joking. Give me a real price she said. I started walking out of the store. She grabbed my arm and started yelling slightly lower prices. I had to twist my wrist to break her grip. Another woman from another stall had come over and was shouting something. Magda was motioning for me to follow her and as I did the woman said, okay 50! But it was too late. We were gone in a storm of angry sounding Mandarin.

Rickshaws waiting for the evening rush
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When we finally found the glasses we wanted, I let Magda do the bargaining. Two pairs of fakes, mine Ray-Ban and Magda's Prada. Starting price: 1260 rmb. Almost $200. For fakes! We started to leave the store but the lady stopped us, what price you want? Magda typed on the calculator: 60 for both pairs. The lady went crazy in her well rehearsed act. Real price! You give joke price! She countered with some other insane price but Magda said we wouldn't pay more than 60 then we walked away again. After much noise, accusations and mumblings under her breath, we agreed on a price. 80 rmb for both pairs. Less than six bucks each. She watched us with a look of loathing as we paid her a tiny percentage of her asking price.

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As a friend pointed out later, she still made money on the deal.

In the afternoon we enjoyed the amazing weather (it had rained mysteriously heavily the entire day and night before) by renting bikes and rolling with ease through ancient hutongs (the famous 'narrow alley' neighborhoods in Beijing) and around landmark towers, past sparkling lakes and bustling lakefront markets. We cruised through crowded backstreets and on the wide open bike lanes of Beijing's main streets. We rode by the moats of the Forbidden City and under the overhanging branches of the surrounding tree lined streets.

The National Theater
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Suddenly we rode free of the human scale of the old city and were thrust out into an enormous intersection next to Tienemen square. Our light was green and it felt like we could see for miles. It was ironic that with the wind and late afternoon sun playing in our hair, surrounded by traffic and whistling traffic cops, at ground zero of the last bastion of large scale Communism in the world, we felt total freedom. I wasn't even fazed when a sedan cut in front of me, dashing for a changing light. I had miles to see him and dodged his bumper with a large lazy swerve, ringing my little bell for effect. We felt like royalty in a city built for bikes, the People's transport.

The National Theater
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We continued our ride around the new, amazing National Theater building. We circled it and admired its egglike profile. It looks like a huge button, or a shiny smooth humbao. Then we made our way back towards Tienmen square and once again rode slowly and with confidence in an even larger bikelane, designed to hold thousands of cyclists at once. We passed the two biggest sights in modern day communism, Tienmen Square and Mao's huge portrait. They seemed jovial and fun from the back of a bike made for cruising. Mao seemed to be grinning his approval at us as we passed.

Protest of demolishing Hutongs
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We rode back through the narrow lanes of more hutongs, admiring the familial energy eminating from open doorways and smells of cooking dinner sizzling through dark, noisy little windows. The setting sun cast the grey allys with golden light. The trees above were filled with birdsong and rustling breeze. We realized, somewhere on the ride back, that we might actually come to love Beijing.