Money was starting to run low by this time of our trip and we sought out the cheapest places we could eat and visit. We ate street food when we could and discovered that the local 7/11 had a buffet style serving of a pretty amazing albeit somewhat old selection of vegetarian food options. 

With our super tight budget on our minds we then headed to the mecca of starving artists: a collection of free galleries and exhibitions laid out in a district called 798. The place was phenomenal, a safe haven for every kind of artist. From fine painters, to caricaturists, molten copper sculptors to hip hop singers it was a veritable gathering of some of the best art I’d ever seen. We spent nearly the whole day wandering the streets, stopping to sketch a sculpture then drifting into a gallery, drinking some pretty good coffee then scoffing at and demonising the galleries that dare charge us for entry; losing ourselves in our own desperation to devour as much as we could. When our creative tanks were brimming we stumbled home in a delirium of inspiration, just wanting to draw and create. 

The next day was dedicated to the Forbidden city. We’d researched a little bit online and learned that in attempt to cut waiting times the admin had imposed the law that all visitors have to buy their tickets online. Unfortunately the website is in chinese and you need a chinese number to make the booking. Fortunately, Richelle had somehow placed herself in the good graces of the impossible to please concierge, who helped us without hesitation. 

We rolled up to the outer gate and spent the next 15 minutes just trying to get the behemoth in our camera frames. It’s enormity was breathtaking. Stretching over a kilometre in length its hard to believe that very few people would’ve inhabited it. One emperor, his consorts, officials and a legion of guards were the only people allowed in, except in times of great peace when the emperor would hold events in the forecourt and invite a lucky few citizens. We walked for what seemed like an interminable time, squeezing our way through the throng of Chinese tourists. We’d find ourselves rooted to the spot just staring at a piece of the ceiling for minutes at a time, studying each intricate detail that would’ve taken years to perfect. Especially since the place burned down several times. 

There’s a garden behind the main sleeping quarters of the emperor, which homes some of the oldest trees imaginable. Tourists are warned not to climb their fragile branches, unable to prevent themselves from touching the near thousand year old growths, the collective touch of millions of tourists has made the trees as smooth as stone, they almost look like the fake plastic trees you’d expect to find in Disneyland. Although, knowing China, they probably were. 

We walked home and briefly saw Summer and Raf to organise timing for the next day and the Greatest Wall ever built to keep out the rabbits. 

Our driver picked us up early the next morning, speeding out of the city like a driver in a heist. Our driver was a nice guy and stopped to buy us dumplings and deep fried strips of flour in one of his favourite little villages. He emphasised that you could never buy dumplings this good in the city. Obviously he’d never been to 7/11. 

Raf took the opportunity of confinement to read us some fast facts about the wall. No, it can’t be seen from space, but it is over 21,000km in length. Over a million people died in it’s 800 year construction and the key adhering component is sticky rice. It has served as a prison not too dissimilar to the wall in Game of Thrones and it was primarily built to keep out the Mongol hordes, which it failed spectacularly to do. 

The part of the wall we arrived at was the more remote/semi installed part of the wall. The crowds were non-existent here with mainly locals taking advantage of the serenity. We paid our 10 yuan to one local opportunist and then another 5 to another, who’d erected a gate for extra authority. Another woman attempted to separate us from our yuan but we weren’t having any of it and soldiered past her, up the trail on the side of the wall. We came to a rusting old ladder that climbed up through one of the small windows in one of the many guard towers that dot the length of the wall and finally we were on it. 

The wall is hard describe. It feels ancient and you can easily imagine the guards walking up and down watching for the approaching Mongol hordes. Parts of it are completely overgrown and almost forgotten, whereas other parts look like they were built yesterday. There’s a sadness that hangs over it, it feels like a drooping curtain hanging over the earth, dropped and nearly forgotten. But there’s also a raw power too, it’s a symbol of man’s intelligence and ability to destroy and rebuild. As the Chinese government continues to restore and commercialise the wall I believe the ever increasing volume of the clicking camera shutter will drown out some of those feeling. 

I mentioned before that this part of the wall was semi-restored. Most of the tiles are relatively new, but unlike the more frequented spots these tiles have just been laid flat without many stairs. Which means in any damp conditions, like the foggy morning we were presently experiencing, parts of the wall are effectively slippery dips. We struggled. There were points when we had to pull ourselves up by the small archer holes in the parapets, or slowly crab crawl backwards and up. A small Chinese woman in decaying Nikes powered past us and gave some encouraging words to Richelle. By the end of the trip we were sweating from exertion and fear as the restoration gave way to nearly vertical ascents of crumbling brick. But we reached the top and celebrated by yelling, “THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE.” It was a tradition that Raf had been doing with his brother and Summer whenever they climbed something high, after hearing it in a movie. I think it’s also an old nursery rhyme. Anyway, I thought it was awesome and will be adopting it for my own future climbs. 

After achieving inner harmony, we slid our way back down to the bottom and negotiated with our driver to let us climb the other side of the wall. We managed to talk him into waiting another hour and a half and we pumped our way up the other side. It was equally if not steeper in parts, but by this time the sun had been up for a few hours, burning away the fog and drying the wet stones. We reached the top and met a travelling group of Canadians and Dutch, who we convinced, or so we thought, to meet us in Beijing for celebratory beers. 

Finally we made our way back to the bottom and our driver floored it, we realised his need for speed when we hit traffic 20km out of the city. Which doesn’t really matter, because Chinese drivers readily believe that the shoulder is also a lane in times of need, which is whenever one is stuck in traffic. After dropping us off we headed upstairs for a snooze before we went back out. 

The Canadian, Dutch crew ditched us. Nothing was said, they just didn’t turn up. Which actually turned out better because it meant we could go to a dumpling place across town, Mr Shi’s Dumplings, which our travel agent, Bede, had suggested to us. His words, “It’s my favourite restaurant in the world.” The bar was set and expectations were high. We weren’t disappointed and even thinking about it now, three weeks later, I can still taste the delicious garlic and chive steamed dumpling. *Homer Simpson Drool*.

Summer and Raf were awesome, and we were sad to part ways, they were leaving the next day for Pingyao on our suggestion. We had a lot in common with them and it felt good to talk and socialise with some people for the first time in China. Last I heard they were travelling to India, good luck guys! 

Our second last day was spent at Tiananmen Square, or Cinnamon Square if you live in China and try to Google it, where apparently there was never a massacre. And apparently if you were born in and after the 90s in China you won’t even know about the massacre. It’s a high security area and you have to wait half an hour in a massive line to pass through a thorough security check. Huge groups mass around the square and Mao’s mausoleum which is watched over by a giant oil portrait of the greatest revolutionary who ever lived. We then went to the Summer Palace. We’d taken the morning off and unfortunately missed the all access deadline, 2pm, by 5 minutes. Not that we were really fussed. Neither of us were particularly impressed by the place. Although the lake, with it’s myriad of small boats, linked islands and reflected golden sun was stunning and both of us spent some time trying to sketch a comparison. We’ve been sketching a lot lately. But our sketching time at Summer Palace wasn’t particularly enjoyable. The crowds would swarm and point and gasp and clap. And our chance to take in the landscape in a personal moment between nature and human was constantly disrupted. Once we got over the camera phones being shoved in our faces it wasn’t so bad. We stuck around as long as we could then headed out the side entrance to pick up our passports from the Mongolian embassy.

We finally got our visa back for Mongolia and celebrated with an ice cream. The next day we’d be on our way to the land of the fermented horse milk and the mighty Genghis Khan!