Beijing is a city of Magnificent temples and palaces, underwhelming architecture and congested traffic. The fashionable young people tempt the feeling that you are in a cosmopolitan city. However, the comfortable feeling evaporates every time you try to talk to someone. A level of basic English, easily found in most world cities is almost absent here. So even though while admiring the sights, I could read the English plaques, I could not avoid the feeling of isolation. Isolation broken by the Waltz.
We started early, heading for the Temple of Heaven trying to avoid the heat and the tour groups. We were a bit surprised to be in line for tickets with throngs of elderly locals. Unknowingly, we were in the North (and wrong) gate to the Temple. Through the gate, instead of a golden temple, we encountered a peaceful park of shade trees, lawns and relaxation. People alone or in groups claim some corner of the grounds to enjoy their favorite activity. We strolled past the elderly woman practicing Tai Chi. We were drawn to the gentleman playing a flute, and from there to a small ensemble of two-stringed violins. They played the traditional music, then a woman joined to provide the lyrics in Chinese Opera style. As we moved from group to group we were encouraged by unspoken friendliness. No words were exchanged, a nod and a smile were enough to convey the message: We are having a good time, and you are welcome too. A bit further a small speaker was playing Chinese music for several couples practicing their ballroom dancing skills. Some couples were really good, and we showed our appreciation by the international "Thumbs-up" sign. Soon we were invited to join. No one stared, no one laughed (I guess we were not the worst dancers there.) Chinese music or not, we were caught up by the mood and the rhythm. One dance followed another, and when we mastered the waltz, we felt part of this smiling group. We said good bye, as we left for the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest, but from that point on, we were no longer tourists. We were Beijingers.
We started early, heading for the Temple of Heaven trying to avoid the heat and the tour groups. We were a bit surprised to be in line for tickets with throngs of elderly locals. Unknowingly, we were in the North (and wrong) gate to the Temple. Through the gate, instead of a golden temple, we encountered a peaceful park of shade trees, lawns and relaxation. People alone or in groups claim some corner of the grounds to enjoy their favorite activity. We strolled past the elderly woman practicing Tai Chi. We were drawn to the gentleman playing a flute, and from there to a small ensemble of two-stringed violins. They played the traditional music, then a woman joined to provide the lyrics in Chinese Opera style. As we moved from group to group we were encouraged by unspoken friendliness. No words were exchanged, a nod and a smile were enough to convey the message: We are having a good time, and you are welcome too. A bit further a small speaker was playing Chinese music for several couples practicing their ballroom dancing skills. Some couples were really good, and we showed our appreciation by the international "Thumbs-up" sign. Soon we were invited to join. No one stared, no one laughed (I guess we were not the worst dancers there.) Chinese music or not, we were caught up by the mood and the rhythm. One dance followed another, and when we mastered the waltz, we felt part of this smiling group. We said good bye, as we left for the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest, but from that point on, we were no longer tourists. We were Beijingers.
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