Who Cares What Day It Is, They're Still in Beijing

Oh...ma...gawd, they are still in Beijing. I'm sure there's tons to look at there, but please, can't we move on?? How many times must I torture my spellchecker with my creative spellings of "Beijing?"

Sigh. Fine. This morning the gang will go to the Temple of Heaven.

This is what I've learned about China so far, and about Beijing in particular: they like their temples. What makes the Temple of Heaven special, though, is that it was built in order to offer sacrifices. Cool beans! The voiceover in my head really digs this kind of stuff. Imagine James Earl Jones narrating the following:

The year: 1420. The Dynasty: Ming. The sacrifices: unknown, but perhaps young virgins and goats and criminals. (You can return to Thistle's voice now.) Probably it was nothing like this at all, just a couple of mild-mannered Chinese leaving a few cobs of corn to ensure a good harvest. But I'm tired of Beijing and I want something gory to awaken my interest. In all fairness, it's a pretty groovy place with lots of pretty colors. See?




Here's what the professionals have to say about it:

A masterpiece of architecture and landscape design, the Temple of Heaven comprises a number of buildings, gardens, and pathways whose organization symbolizes the relationship between Earth and heaven. The design layout instituted here profoundly influenced Chinese architecture and planning for centuries. Among the stellar structures is the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest, which has triple eaves, gorgeous glazed tiles, and dramatically carved marble balustrades. Built without nails, cement, or steel rods, the entire structure is fixed by wooden mortise and wooden brackets with the support of twelve pillars.


So okay, I can live with one more temple as long as no nails, cement, or steel rods were harmed in the making of it. And it's perty. And it's bigger than the Forbidden City, so it kicks the Forbidden City's ass. Why is that, you ask? Well, since the Chinese emperors referred to their darling selves as "The Son of Heaven," they dared not build their own dwelling, the Forbidden City, bigger than a dwelling for heaven. See? It all makes sense now.

Now. Let's just take a little break in this incredible journey through Chinaland so that I can take a poll: how many of you really expected this blogtour to be educational and serious and stuff? Since five out of the six of you (hopefully still) reading this are my friends, surely you knew better. Just wanted to check. Now we can go back to China.

A noteworthy stop on the grounds will be the Imperial Vault of Heaven. Take a moment with me and think about this. Heaven's Vault. THE Vault. What the h-e-double-toothpicks do they keep in there? Is this God's secret place where he keeps his notes on us? Are there video clips of all the moments in my life that I've been mean or unreliable or just plain gross? And who has access to these things? Is there a charge to get in?

There's loads more to tell you about the Temple of Heaven, but I think you will be more interested in the fact that the troops are eating in yet another local restaurant for lunch. Maybe this is the tour company's version of, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." Or, as my brother says, "That which does not kill us makes us stranger." And for him, it's true.

I'll leave you with that, but I will give you a clue about tomorrow: it won't be in Beijing! Woo hoo!