Adventures of Life in Beijing

This is the first in a series of posts on my reflections of living in China during the Coronavirus outbreak.

The events of the past few weeks swirl around in my mind as I try to make sense of things. How did we get to this new-normal where temperature checks and mask-wearing are part of daily life?

We first heard about an outbreak of pneumonia in Wuhan in mid-January. No need to worry, I thought. Pneumonia’s not contagious right? Besides, Wuhan is over 1,000 kilometers away from Beijing. I quickly  forgot about the news reports and started packing for our upcoming ski vacation to Japan over the Lunar New Year holiday.

Fast forward two weeks. By the end of January all public events in Beijing had been cancelled and school was closed until further notice due to an epidemic of a new coronavirus.

This wasn’t simply a few octogenarians in Hubei with a case of the sniffles; this was a major epidemic brewing that would alter our daily reality in many ways.

We heard it all started with a snake. Or was it a bat? Does anything good ever come from snakes? (Remember what happened in the garden of eden?) Did people fall ill from snake bites or eating snake soup? Later the blame shifted to the pangolin, whose scales are prized in Chinese medicine, making it one of the most heavily trafficked mammals in the world.

 

 

“Coronavirus? Isn’t that what happens to you when you run out of Corona?” My husband jokes.

”No, that’s what I’ll need to survive in-home quarantine when school doesn’t start for two weeks,” I replied. On second thought, you’d better make it tequila.

 

 

Advice poured in on social media on how to stay healthy. Chat groups argued endlessly about the various types of masks and which ones were preferred. Given the shortage, some people resorted to drastic measures.

 

How does he breathe?

 

 

I haven’t seen it, but apparently even dogs are covering their snouts.

 

Really?

China’s rich history of traditional medicine meant many tips for beating the virus focused on strengthening our immune systems. Here is some of the well-meaning advice I received.

  • Cut at least four whole garlic cloves into small pieces, add boiling water and drink garlic water twice a day (this surely will keep the virus away, along with vampires and my husband).
  • Coat each nostril with Vaseline (which is difficult to find here and almost as expensive as maple syrup. If I’m going to stick something up my nose I’d choose the syrup ).
  • Whatever you do, don’t  let yourself get thirsty. Drink every 10 minutes, preferably warm water (do you think I could substitute a salt-rimmed margarita twice a day instead?)
  • If you must go out, place a slice of ginger under your tongue.     (under your mask of course).

 

And it’s not just social media watching over us. Shortly after the outbreak began, fliers appeared on our doors from the local government, reminding us to wash our hands and check for fevers. Banners hang in public places urging proper hygiene.

 

Banners around town remind us to take care

 

Local parks, which thankfully have saved my sanity and negated my need for tequila, offer a platform to encourage public caution as well. In addition to banners, loudspeakers blare instructions in Chinese, urging us to wear masks, wash our hands and avoid gatherings. I’ll be a very clean, (hopefully sober) hermit by the time this thing blows over.

 

Loudspeaker inside the bear reminds me to wear a mask, wash hands and monitor symptoms

 

As the epidemic brews, we make final preparations for our ski trip to Japan, where the only face mask I’ll have to contend with is ones to keep away frostbite.

We don our masks leaving Beijing, and I struggle to breathe through the thick fabric. I’m either going to suffocate or be consumed by a deadly virus. Either way I’m a goner. I take my mask off and breathe freely, garnering suspicious looks from fellow travelers, all of whom are sporting  some kind of face protection, from black Darth Vader-ish numbers to flimsy Hello Kitty masks. We pass through security, apply a liberal dose of hand sanitizer and board the plane to Sapporo where a cold Asahi awaits.

 

 

 

 

Comments (20):

  1. Ainslie Lewis

    February 10, 2020 at 12:03 pm

    Thanks again for a well written blog spiced with humor and authentic emotions. There are many BSF Leaders praying for you and your family. We are praying for your health and your safety as you travel and your husband as he stays back in China.

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 11, 2020 at 1:20 am

      Thanks for your kind words – I appreciate the prayers.

      Reply
  2. Maggie Sigiani

    February 10, 2020 at 1:45 pm

    Keep praying for you all!

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 11, 2020 at 1:20 am

      Thank you Maggie!

      Reply
  3. Jackie Lewis

    February 10, 2020 at 2:02 pm

    Continuing to pray for you and your family. Keep the information coming.

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 11, 2020 at 1:19 am

      Thank you Jackie- more updates coming soon!

      Reply
  4. Alison

    February 10, 2020 at 3:15 pm

    Have the tequila!

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 11, 2020 at 1:19 am

      Ha ha – I’m not even sure if they have that here. I know I can get the Coronas though😂

      Reply
  5. Wanda

    February 10, 2020 at 11:51 pm

    Great blog… love your humor and transparency! Praying for you and your family.

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 11, 2020 at 1:18 am

      Thanks Wanda!

      Reply
  6. Holly McCsll

    February 11, 2020 at 3:24 am

    Although it’s a very scary subject, you had ne laughing out loud! We are praying for you guys!!

    Reply
  7. Holly McCall

    February 11, 2020 at 3:25 am

    Although it’s a very scary subject, you had me laughing out loud! We are praying for you guys!!

    Reply
  8. Erin

    February 11, 2020 at 4:16 pm

    This is great! Thankful for your sense of humor in a scary situation. Continued prayers…

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 11, 2020 at 11:07 pm

      Thank you Erin.

      Reply
  9. Laurie Pytosh

    February 12, 2020 at 3:18 am

    Wonderfully written with a bit of humor …an excellent read!

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 12, 2020 at 3:20 am

      Thank you Laurie !

      Reply
  10. Kara Lewis

    February 13, 2020 at 5:36 am

    This is amazing, Kirsten!

    Reply
    • Kirsten Harrington

      February 13, 2020 at 5:57 am

      Thanks for reading, it’s very surreal in China right now.

      Reply

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Taishan

Last Sunday, three friends and I hopped on a high speed train from Beijing to Tai’an City in Shandong Province. We came to climb Taishan, China’s most sacred peak. For more than 3,000 years, religious pilgrims, philosophers, and emperors have come to trek up 7,000 stone stairs to offer sacrifices to the gods and obtain spiritual favor.

We came seeking adventure and an escape from big city Beijing. Personally, I dedicated my efforts to raising money for New Day Foster Home, hoping to make a positive impact on the lives of some very special orphans. You can read more about my fundraiser on my previous blog post Climbing for Kids

Our Chinese guide met us as we exited the train. With a buzz cut, glasses and a button down oxford shirt, Asher looked more like he was dressed for the office than for hiking. His miniature backpack was barely large enough to hold a toothbrush. Does he remember we are planning to spend the night at the top in sub-freezing temperatures?

At 32, he told us he’s been guiding for 10 years and has been up to the summit more times than he can remember. We forgot to ask him whether he actually hiked up, or took the cable car.

 

Our guide Asher

After dinner of Spicy Rice Noodle Soup with Lamb, it was back to the hotel for an early bed time. Explorers need their beauty sleep.

 

Dinner for less than $3.

 

The breakfast buffet was heavy on beer, baijiu and baozi. I decided to stick with the Pop Tart and instant Starbucks I brought along.

 

Booze for breakfast? Where’s the coffee?

 

We drove 15 minutes to the foot of the mountain. “Everybody, follow me, follow me,” Asher said waving his hiking pole as he led us through the parking lot toward the Red Gate where we will start the day. It’s about 10 kilometers to the top with 1,400 meters of elevation gain.

 

We will pass through 9 gates on the way to the summit (the Red Gate is farther up the hill). L to R: Curtis, me, Mil, Andrew.

 

The pavement path leads us past bamboo forests, temples, stone tablets, and ancient cypress trees.

“Can you see the signs on the trees?” Asher asked. “Some of them are between 500 to 1,000 years old.”  In places, the trees curve and bend over the path, forming a tunnel. It’s a cool, fragrant forest, a welcome respite from the recent heavy pollution and sandstorms in Beijing.

 

And because it’s China, there’s no shortage of souvenir shops and snack vendors on the lower mountain. I’ve never thought of bringing a whole cucumber or radish on a hike, but they’re popular here.

 

Asher pointed out historical markers along the way, but I confess I was more interested in listening to the birds sing and the river rush by. I’ve never been very good at keeping the Qing and Ming dynasties straight.

But even with my embarrassing lack of knowledge of Chinese history, knowing that I was walking in the steps of Confucius was heady. Did he hike in straw shoes and a flowing robe? I was thankful for my Gortex-lined boots and practical hiking pants.

 

“Whether a man thinks he can or cannot, he is right.”
—Confucius

I pondered this as the path became steeper. The breathing around me got louder, punctuated by the occasional “jia you!” as the Chinese shouted encouragement to each other. It translates as “add oil (to the fire)” but it means something like “you can do it!”

“Woo-woo-woo-woo,” Asher started belting out the occasional primal shout that shattered my quiet thoughts.

“Why is he doing that? What is that noise?” I asked my hiking buddy Andrew, not wanting to offend Asher in case he’s engaged in some sort of religious ritual.

“It’s bloody irritating, is what it is,” replied Andrew. “It sounds like a mutant monkey in mating season.”

Maybe Asher thinks we’re getting tired, and he’s trying to revive the esprit de corps, or he’s sounding an alarm to the souvenir shops around the bend to tell them the gullible foreigners are coming. I added it to my “It’s China, don’t try to understand” list.

After about two hours we arrived at the Middle Gate, where hikers normally rest before starting the steeper second half to the top. There’s a small restaurant and vendors selling instant noodles, roasted sweet potatoes and cold beer.

 

Snacks for sale at the middle gate

 

Resting before the steep part

 

“Here, have some drinks,” Asher offered as he pulled out some pouches of milk that have likely been sitting in his backpack next to his toothbrush since yesterday. I’m sure he didn’t want to carry them any further, and I felt bad rejecting his hospitality but I just couldn’t stomach warm milk. I drank some water and ate some crackers I brought, along with a piece of cheese, which actually had been sitting in my backpack since yesterday.

We set off again, and got the first glimpse of what lay ahead.

 

Only a few thousand more steps to go!

 

We arrived at the section called the 18 bends, where the slope of the stairs is close to a 70 degree angle. I’m thankful for the railing. The steps are small and steeply pitched, almost like a ladder.

 

It’s steeper than it looks. Really. And there are 18 of these.

 

Near the top, the steps are uneven and some are loose, making it difficult to find sturdy footing. I kept going, knowing something beautiful was waiting at the summit. I hope the same will be true for the orphans on their difficult journey through life.

I was thankful for all of the subway stairs I did in preparation, but still my legs started to shake.

I started counting steps to keep myself going, and pictured the orphans with their leg braces, walkers and wheel chairs. Ten steps for Freddy, ten steps for James, ten steps for Titus…..this became my meditation that carried me to the top.

Asher propelled himself up the mountain with his battle cry vocalizations; one elderly woman held a small red recording device that played the ancient Buddhist mantra “Om Mani Padme Hum.”

Seven hours after we started, we reached the South Heavenly Gate, where Taoist followers feel a sense of Nirvana, believing they would become immortal. We just felt tired and hungry, and celebrated with chocolate chip cookies and Snickers.

 

Views from the top

The true summit lies at 1,545 meters, which meant we still had a bit more climbing to do to reach Jade Emperor Peak.

 

Jade Emperor Peak

 

We decided to drop our backpacks at the hotel and rest for a few minutes before continuing. We had been told that the accommodations on the top of the mountain would be very basic, so we were pleasantly surprised at how nice our hotel was. I wonder where Confucius slept on his journey.

 

Our mountain hotel. We even had hot water.

 

Hotel lobby ceiling was gorgeous!

It was late afternoon by then, so we headed to top, stopping at the Bixia temple (built 1009 AD) on the way. Every year thousands of Chinese couples make the trip to the top of the mountain to pray for the blessings of a child from the Goddess Bixia Yuanjun. I love my boys, but I kept a respectful distance from Yuanjun’s statue lest any utterances on my part might get lost in translation on the way to fertility goddess.

 

Can you see the bit of snow on the ground ?

 

We take a few obligatory photos at the summit marker, and head back down the hill.

 

We have a few minutes rest at the hotel before a short walk to see the sunset.

Evening glow

 

After dinner at the hotel it was time for bed. We’d scaled 1,441 meters of vertical by climbing over 380 flights of stairs. It was time for a rest.

DAY TWO

We got up at 4:30 (that’s a.m.) to hike to the best spot to view the sunrise.

It was below freezing with a brisk wind, and I was thankful for my down jacket. For those who came unprepared, long military-style coats were available to rent.

 

We had a quick breakfast at the hotel (which was not served with alcohol this time) and started down the mountain.

 

Breakfast of steamed bread, noodle soup, a hard boiled egg and pickles. It was bland but filling.

Instead of retracing our steps, we took an alternate route down through a pine forest, with more steps of course. There are very few dirt hiking paths in China; most trails are cement stairs or paved paths. It takes a bit of “nature” out of the experience, but the Chinese believe that a more stable path is safer.

 

 

As one of the world’s most climbed mountains in a country with over a billion people, having the forest to ourselves was a delightful surprise. Our plan of coming during a weekday in low season was paying off.

I’m savoring the views and tranquility of the pine forest when Asher starts again with the strange noises. Is he yodeling? Listening for an echo?

“Why are you making that noise?”

“I’m calling the monkeys,” he said.

Asher had been slowing down and limping visibly. Maybe he was calling out in pain.

“You guys, let’s wait up. I’m getting a little concerned about Asher. He’s falling further and further behind,” my friend Mil said.

“What happens when your guide can’t continue?” I ask.

“You call the tour company and tell them you want a new guide, because the old one is broken,” Andrew responded practically.

We can’t just leave him behind. Maybe we could run back up the hill and get the sedan chair I saw at the summit and carry him down.

 

“I think I underestimated you,” Asher said to me at one of our rest breaks, which had become more frequent as he rested his knee.

“I think you underestimated all of us,” I said. Did he think we were a bunch of middle-aged out of shape tourists? We hike together regularly in Beijing, and the rough unrestored section of the Great Wall had been excellent training ground.

“I think it will only take 2-3 hours to get down, not 4,” he said.

We make our way down  through the forest dotted with the occasional spray of wildflowers, punctuated with Asher’s caterwauling. It’s really annoying, but I don’t have the heart to ask him to stop. I think his shrill howls are his way of giving himself a pep talk.

 

 

The path is steep, and curves at such an angle it disappears into the horizon like an infinity pool.

 

It’s hard to trust the unknown road, but like life, the path is filled with surprises. There’s an unexpected waterfall around one corner and a gazebo around another.

 

At one rest break, I tied a traditional prayer flag on tree. It fluttered in the wind, sending out my prayers for the orphans that “forever families” would come soon.

 

Climbing Taishan brings peace to the family.

 

As we got closer to the end of the trail we saw local villagers collecting plants on the hillside.

“In ancient time people in China were very poor, so they had to eat whatever they could find. This is the reason they like to collect plants, for medicine and to eat,” explained Asher. “But we don’t eat snakes or rats and most people don’t eat dogs,” he said.

I think about the dog meat hanging at the markets we visited in Yangshuo, and Peter Hessler’s article in the New Yorker “A Rat in my Soup,” about the specialty rodent restaurants in Guandong province.

Some things are best left unmentioned.

We finished the hike uneventfully and headed to a local restaurant for lunch, which thankfully, served neither rat nor dog. Instead we celebrated our accomplishment with a few local specialties: braised pork with chestnuts and scallion pancakes.

As we travelled back to Beijing, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. I was grateful and humbled by the opportunity to do something that I love – hiking in the mountains – while raising money for some very special kids. If you didn’t have a chance to donate to my fundraiser, there’s still time. You can donate by Clicking Here

Just write “Mt. Tai” where it says “add a note.”

Thank you for coming alongside me on this journey. I hope your calves aren’t as sore as mine.

 

 

Climbing for Kids


(I apologize in advance if you’ve already received this from me. Please enjoy the pictures.)

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two years since we moved to China. We are winding down our time here and heading back to the States in June.

I’ve been so fortunate to hike through bamboo forests,

along scenic rivers, up Karst peaks, through chestnut tree orchards, in the Rainbow Mountains and past remote villages.

 

I’ve been to the Great Wall more times than I can count, from the beginning of the Ming-era Great Wall in Gansu province

 

 

to Laolongtou the “Old Dragon’s Head” where the wall finishes by dipping down into the sea.

 

 

Not everything turned out the way we had hoped, however. When I came to Beijing, one of my biggest wishes was to spend time with a group of kids from New Day Foster Home.

 

We have supported their work with Chinese orphans for years, sponsoring children, visiting and donating supplies. We’ve had the privilege of choosing names for Thomas and Lydia when they arrived at the orphanage, and have been praying that each one would find a forever family. Many of you have helped along the way.

 

Shortly before we arrived in Beijing, the government ordered all the kids to return to their home orphanages and foreign visitors are no longer allowed. Fortunately, New Day has been able to continue to support some of these kids with ongoing medical care, trained nannies, and therapy inside the Chinese government run orphanages.

 

Knowing that I will be leaving soon, I want to give something back by helping these kids.

So, here’s where you come in. On March 21, I’m headed to Shandong province to hike up Mt. Tai, revered as China’s most sacred peak. I’ll be following in the footsteps of Confucius, 72 emperors, Chairman Mao and millions of Taoists who have scaled this peak as a spiritual journey.

 

 

I’m asking you to sponsor me by donating to New Day Foster Home. The daylong hike involves 7,000 steep, stone stairs twisting and turning to the top with 1,500 meters of elevation gain over 10 kilometers. It’s grueling, but I’ll be thinking of the kids with their leg braces, walkers and wheelchairs when I get tired.

 

 

I’d love to raise a dollar for each step. Seven thousand dollars would provide hours of therapy, medical procedures and field trips for the kids in the orphanage. Think of it this way: how much would you be willing to donate to NOT have to climb 7,000 steps? Here’s a link for donation:

www.paypal.com/donate/?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=FM9SEMPBQYYPL

OR visit their website to learn more: www.newdayfosterhome.com

Please make the notation “Mt. Tai” on your donation so I can keep track of my goal.

You can also follow me on Facebook or Instagram @ Harringtonsinorlando for updates on my trip.

Thank you for your love and support. I’m so thankful to have you on this China adventure. I’m looking forward to coming home, but part of my heart will stay behind, in the mountains, with the kids and with friends I’ve made from all over the world.