The Temple of Heaven

I have just arrived in Beijing. I am downtown with nothing to do. There's a station where Olympic volunteers are hanging out in their blue and white shirts. They're all patriotic Chinese twenty-somethings who have been practicing their English intensively in the past few weeks. Thankfully, I just missed the Olympics and the city is quieting down.

I approach them and can see their faces get excited ("Get ready to talk English, here comes a foreigner!") I approach them slowly because I want to savor the moment. I want them to savor the moment, too.

And of course, I want to surprise them. So, I ask them in Chinese, "So, what can I do around here?"

I think the guy talking to me is relieved that he can talk to me in Chinese. In this way, he can speak with authority. As we talk, I notice another volunteer is photographing us with her high-tech super-expensive Nikon digital SLR. Maybe I will be in the newspaper tomorrow: "Chinese Volunteers Help Foreigner Enjoy Beijing".

They tell me the Temple of Heaven (天壇) is nearby, and so I start walking.

About twenty minutes later, I get there. You pay a fee to enter, but before you enter the actual temple grounds, you need to walk through the adjacent park. It is full of Chinese retirees doing what they do best: singing, dancing, playing cards, drinking tea. I sit down and watch two women in their 50s do some traditional Chinese dances.



If you want to see real life in action in China, you can always hang out with kids, dogs, or old people.

I figure I should continue to see the famous temple.

I walk through the grounds, picturing the old emperors doing their prayers for the land. It seems a little superstitious. The emperor would come here every year and go through all kinds of ritual so that the coming harvest would be good. But I think, it's good to have a reverent attitude toward nature, so I think, "Yeah, you go Emperor!"

After walking around for over an hour, I want to sit down, and I find there's a park on the grounds. There are many older Chinese people and a few of them look at me while I pull out my guide to Beijing and read it.

Across from me, there is another bench with an old couple. The man is lying down and his wife is sitting next to him, combing his hair. I just watch.

And now I know why I was supposed to come to see the Temple of Heaven today. When you are old (or young), and someone can comb your hair like that, isn't that heaven?