Dave and I got some of the famous zhajiang noodles, but they were too salty and I didn't like them. I put a bunch of pickled stuff on them to make them palatable.
Our hostel was in a really central location, so we only had to walk a few minutes to Mao's mausoleum. At the beginning of the enormous line, a man in a dirty jacket tried to take money from me because I had a water bottle with me. He said I had to check it before going inside. I ran away from him and checked it myself.
Then, when I got to the end of the line, they saw my camera and told me I had to check it too. So, I went all the way back and checked it along with my water bottle. The coat check lady said that she had to take my papers and maps as well. Why? Who knows.
Dave decided to go to the National Museum instead. He was supposed to meet his friend Angelica there soon. Fine.
I found myself in line behind an older Californian. He was friendly and funny, so we agreed to wander around together for a bit. He also wanted to go to the National Museum, so we went there next and quickly became engrossed in an exhibit of about 600 gifts Chairman Mao and others received from visiting dignitaries. Most of it was decadent, useless crap, but just seeing it all amassed there in one room really showed how much conspicuous consumption and how ridiculously wasteful these awful people are. That was exhausting, but there was still a lot more museum to go.
We headed down to the basement, where we took a whirlwind tour of Chinese history and went back out into the sunshine. From there, we went to the Silk Street Market, where my new friend Brian bought a beautiful blue silk scarf for his wife, probably at an inflated price. There were all kinds of cool tailor made shops, which got me thinking about getting something made for myself before I leave, like I did in Vietnam.
Brian loves architecture, and I had zero plans for the day, so we went to look at some of the modern buildings around town, like the world trade centre and the CCTV building aka "Big Underpants".
Then I was hungry, so we went to Quanjude restaurant, the original Peking duck place, but it couldn't surpass the night before. Even more disappointing, it was twice as expensive. Oh well. Brian was nice enough to pay for most of the meal, and I apologized for bringing him there. He even walked my back to my hostel, where I could pick up my bag and venture over to Pamela's house for the night. I was completely wiped.
Pamela had to work late, so I didn't get over there until 8 p.m. We had a little chat, but she still hadn't had dinner, so she cooked while I passed out on the couch. Oops.
I woke up early, before Pamela had woken up, and went for breakfast down the street: wonton soup and hot soy milk in a bowl. Love it. A man sat down beside me and told mehe was a former police officer and that I could call him whenever I needed help. He paid for mybreakfast and left as mysteriously as he had arrived. I picked up some orgasmic pastries for the train and went home.
Finally, it&#39;s all in one place
Some of the gifts
Mini terracotta warriors
National Museum of China
Silk Street Market
world trade centre
I&#39;m on the big screen
Presentation is good, food is bad
Me and Brian in the subway