The Peace of Heaven

It was a day for doing nothing. Washed clothes. Watched TV. Read Tao Te Ching. Spoke to my Egyptian friend who was bored and wanted to go to Egypt to do his PhD and evaluate his son's bride-to-potentially-be. Ate at my favourite restaurant. 6RMB for a huge plate of potatoes and eggplant that I barely managed to eat. The kung-fu movie on T.V. had a stunning fight scene on a pane of glass suspended from a crane on a sky-scraper.

Made it to Tiananmen (Gate of Heavenly Peace) Square at 7 pm. The sky to the east was brighter than the sky to the west. The west was bringing the most ominous black cloud I'd ever seen - an a red sunset underneath it. The cloud passed. I thought we were safe. And then the running started - the crowds gathered to watch the flag lowering, dashing for the nearest shelter.

Within seconds, the square was a sea. I was soaked. Sheltered under a police van, when a Chinese guy offered me the safety of his umbrella. We went to an underground walkway. To pack to hide, waves of water gushing down the ramp.

Then came the guard - shining bayonettes, pressed uniforms - all for the purpose of retrieving a flag that hung soaked, wrapped around a flagpole, powerless to offer shelter. They took the flag with the same ritualised sharp movements and marched out, the rain intensifying to make sky and earth one water-soaked entity. Not a single soldier out of step, the same measured pace as they'd take on any other day.

I wrung out my socks, rolled up my pants and caught a train and a bus to get to the far north of Beijing. Stepping into a noodle bar, I knew I was in the right place - it was full of funky kids with funny hair and studded belts. The gig venue was only a little further along.

Not what I expected. Clean, new... fitted out with wooden tables and chairs. Many foreigners - mostly Americans. Some girls decked out in evening-wear. The polite English-speaking guy working there asked me if I wanted to sit down. What?! I came for mohawks, filth and blood...

The first band had one mohawk. They rocked out. The crowd just stood there. The second band got some skin-head guys pushing each other around - but if was damnlame compared to what I'd seen in Japan. The third band started with a doors cover - they looked good, but it was a pity that the singer spent most of his energy on trying out his Jim Morrison poses rather than learning to sing. The fourth band blew me away - Rebuilding the Right of Statues were so Joy Division, I couldn't help but dance away. The fifth band didn't realise that to be loud you need such a thing as contrast. The best thing about them was the singer's "I love Elvis t-shirt." The last band, New Pants was awesome.

Spent some time talking to an American guy, then a drunken Chinese guy who came over and told us that he loved us. The sky outside was lit up white with lightning. Sat and watched the rain fall. It abated. Decided to walk the 20km back to the hotel at 3 am. Beijing was dark, misty and quiet at that hour. A few hobos sleeping, a few people on the way to early morning jobs. I got to Tiananmen at 6 am and took a bus from there... cutting down on 5 km.

Woke at 2pm. Time to pick up the visa. The woman at the paying counter told me to go to the next counter. The woman there gave me my passport and went away. Nobody seemed interested in my money. I 'asked' the woman (no-one spoke English) if everything was setted. She seemed to say 'yes.' I walked out.