Yonghe Gong, The Lama Temple

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

We have time to visit only one more place in Beijing and we've chosen the Yonghe Gong, or Lama Temple.

It's easy to find; the subway stop bears the name. Soon we're walking down a neighborhood street, so different than the area around Ti'anan Men Square. Restaurants and shops line the street, some of them selling incense for offerings at the temple. Down the street a large street fair is in progress.

This temple, built in 1694, originally housed court eunuchs. Later it became home for a prince destined to become emperor. When he moved to the Forbidden City, half the residence was converted to a monastery and temple and became the home of the Yellow Hat Sect of Buddhism.

Five halls separated by courtyards make up the temple. The halls house statues and paintings. The statues range from slightly larger than life-size to immense. One of the buildings houses a 20-foot statue of the first Dalai Lama.

The statue of the future Buddha (as opposed to the past Buddha and the present Buddha) in the last hall is 60 feet high and was carved from a single piece of white sandalwood. This is the temple's most prized possession. It's very impressive.

This is an active temple, with real monks. It's a showplace for the government to display its tolerance for religion, and the monks and Buddhism represented here are state-approved. The sign on the right just as you enter the complex states that the government spends large sums of money for the upkeep of Yonghe Gong.

There's a separate governing body for Catholics and Protestants, too. Catholic bishops here, for instance, are appointed not by the Vatican, but by the body which oversees Catholicism in China.

The large crowds and no place for quiet meditation of any kind does little to deter worshippers from praying, performing prostrations and making offerings of food and incense. No one is reticent to pray in public. Jostled by dozens of people, people put their hands together and bow, silently offering prayers.

As we are about to enter the third hall, a young woman and a boy of about twelve approach us. She tells us her little brother would like to practice his English with us.

I am frankly disappointed by this, using a child to work the scam. Although we've seen very small children begging in the streets with their mothers, trained to block your way no matter where you step (I picked one child up and moved him in Kaifaqu)it's still painful to see a child schooled in deception.

Bernie is more accommodating than I am. He walks and talks with this young woman and I move on ahead to what we've come to see. We have just a short time here, and I'm unwilling to spend it going through a charade. Somewhere along the line the little boy's "older brother" joins us.

That works to our advantage. Bernie cracks me up when he's the person who suggest we go somewhere for tea. Did he really say that?

The woman puts a little twist on things. She knows a famous Chinese restaurant where we could join all of her family and talk. (The way this works is that the laowai, or foreigner, accompanies one of these people to a teahouse or restaurant where they spend an afternoon, and the laowai is presented with an exorbitant bill, maybe $50 a person. With a family of say, ten, plus us, that could get steep quick.)

Bernie looks at his watch.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" she asks. We've gotten this far in this scam before.

"We're leaving Beijing this afternoon."

"What time is it?" I ask Bernie.

"It's a little past noon," he says.

"What do you think we should do?"

"I think we'd better head back to the hotel and get ready to go.

There. All done. And all absolutely honest, too. Who knows, maybe we've prevented another hapless laowai from being scammed just by occupying her time.

We're truly tired as we take a taxi to the airport. I'd stayed up late last night writing up my notes from the day.

At the airport we run into a Danish man who's married to a Chinese woman he met in Copenhagen whose family lives in Dalian, and an Italian woman whose husband has worked in China for several years and is now in Dalian.

As we descend in Dalian, we notice the snow. We already know it's -4 here.

And when we don't see Autumn at the arrivals gate, we suspect that "Autumn no go in snow." Sure enough, Shannon's phone rings and that's what she tells us. Autumn no go.

Take a taxi, she tells us and call her to give him the address and directions. So we get an airport taxi.

The roads aren't plowed. Shannon told us they don't have snowplows in Dalian as it only snows three days a year.

Drivers seem to be moving a little more cautiously, though one has pulled his car into the left lane in a u-turn maneuver and we see a five car pileup at an intersection in Kaifaqu.

As we open the apartment door, Ollie is there to greet us. We've missed Ollie, and he gets five shower drinks in the next ten minutes.

We watch Mad Max. This put Mel Gibson in the spotlight?

There's a lot of pointless violence; I cuddle Ollie.