Day 2. Temple of Heaven, silk factory, Tiananmen Square, Forbidden Palace, market.

Woke with a stiff and sore back, since the beds at our hotel are rock hard. Not just uncomfortable, but in my present state actually painful to sleep in. It’s a struggle just to turn from side to side (because lying on my back is out of the question in these beds).

The day was gray and hazy again, with the sun barely visible through the clouds in the morning, but nothing thereafter. Cool, under 20°C.

The Temple of Heaven is, despite its name, mostly a large park. It is lively and crowded, clearly a park for the citizens (especially the elderly) and not so much for tourists. Everywhere there were social activities going on: card games, mahjong, dominoes, opera singing, jianzi, tai chi, tango lessons, etc.

The main building, the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests, was monumental. As with most “old” buildings in Beijing, it has been rebuilt after burning down (in 1889). It is beautiful in shape, colour and detail, and chock full of symbolism.

In the silk factory we had a demonstration/talk about the silk-making process, which was quite interesting. We saw silk worm cocoons being soaked and reeled, and double cocoons (containing two worms), unfit for reeling, being stretched into “fluff” that was then used for making blankets and pillows. They also had a large shop (of course). Lots of fine clothes, but nothing that would fit me, even without the belly – Chinese women have no hips.

Tiananmen Square was vast and empty. Well there were people (tourists mostly, taking photos) but far from enough to fill it. If I recall correctly, our guide said it can take a million people. Apparently every day except today, much of it would be filled with a huge queue of people waiting to visit Mao’s mausoleum.

The Forbidden City was also vast. Scaled for an empire, it mostly seemed to consist of huge empty courtyards. It felt quite repetitive: the same shapes again and again. In style it was quite similar to the Temple of Heaven. I would have loved to stare at all the detail at close distance but the group (and Ingrid) didn’t give me much chance for that.

At the market the main impression was that of salesman attacking from all sides. Fake bags of fashionable brands, watches, jewellery – which we quickly passed. I bought silk handbags for Ingrid and myself, and a bowl. (I do like to take something home from a trip, but it has to be something I can use, not just a knickknack to put on a shelf.) Bargaining is de rigeur, and it was a good thing we had my mother with us: I hate haggling, she loves it, and she gets good prices.

Ingrid drew big crowds whenever we stopped; everyone wanted to touch and take pictures of her. (Tourists from the countryside, I guess: Beijingers would have seen at least a few foreigners by now.) Especially parents all wanted to take photos of their kid next to Ingrid. They clearly had different ideas about personal integrity than we do: pulling her close when she’s loudly telling them NO. (She now knows five words of English: Hello, Bye-bye, Yes, No, Thank you.)

Often they are surprised and a bit upset when she doesn’t want to be cuddled. What they don’t realize is that they are not the first, nor the second, but about the tenth person within the last hour who wants to do it – and that dozens of people have tried to hug her yesterday too.

One solution is, of course, to never stop walking. Another is for her to take photos of them while they photograph her: it makes her feel like less of a passive victim, and them less likely to crowd her (because a blonde girl with a camera is even cuter than just a blonde girl). But sometimes we had to resort to physically pushing them away from her.