Youngs Around the World

The Great Wall of China was originally begun during the Qin Dynasty between 221-207 B.C. Though it was never effective in its original purpose – to keep out invaders – it did serve as an excellent transportation system for moving weapons and supplies through the mountains. The wall was fortified again during the Ming Dynasty – a 100 year process that expended colossal man-power and resources. It is near the top of every list of world wonders and is a must-see in China. There are several different sections of the wall that are open to visitors, including sections that have been restored from crumbling ruin to replicate their original appearance. Badaling is a rebuilt section of the wall that is reputedly the most commercialized and crowded but, after battling the crowds in the Forbidden City, we wanted something more personal. Our hostel advertised a small group excursion to a “secret” part of the wall, which involved a three-hour drive, a mountain trek, two hours on the wall itself, and lunch at the end. Most importantly, the promoters promised a less touristy experience.

We departed on a minibus at 7:30am and jerked through Beijing’s morning gridlock for over an hour before reaching a stretch of highway – still congested with commercial vehicles – that wound through the mountains. We passed the spectacle at Badaling and stared at the row of at least one hundred full-size tour buses and rows upon rows of souvenir shops and other services. We all quietly conferred on the undesirability of that scene. At the end of three hours, we arrived on a remote road along the foot of a mountain range. Everyone in the bus needed a restroom visit but there was only the crumbling shell of a small stone building, which appeared to serve no function whatsoever. Our group of ten scattered into the brush for our first bonding experience of the day.

Our Chinese guide was a little old man (perhaps sixty, though it is always hard to tell with Asians because they age so well) who spoke only one word of English: “okay”. We never caught his name; he was introduced simply as “the guide” when we picked him up on the side of the road. From now on, I’ll refer to him as Wang because he needs a name. Wang led our group in slow, measured steps up the mountainside, on a narrow, rocky trail encroached upon by thick brush from both sides. The slow but steady pace of the ascent made the otherwise rigorous terrain quite manageable, even for a little whiner like me who hates steep inclines. Wang clearly felt no sense of urgency and everyone in the group was in fine spirits.

We could see the Great Wall across the mountain tops long before we arrived there. From a distance, it looked smaller than I’d imagined, dwarfed against the enormity of the mountains. We climbed for nearly forty-five minutes, pausing occasionally to rest, until we finally reached the foot of the wall. Up close, it was very tall – about fifteen feet on average – and stretched as far as we could see in both directions, following the curves of the mountain peaks like a white ribbon. A section of the wall that had collapsed into a pile of rubble created a stony entrance and we all clambered up the rubble hill to stand on the wall for the first time. Everyone was in awe of the spectacular view across the soaring, green mountains. We were unable yet to grasp the idea that we were standing on the Great Wall of China.

For the next two hours, we walked on top of the wall, stopping along the way for photos and to take in the views at various angles. The views were always different as the wall, in varying states of deterioration, snaked across the entire mountain range. The wall was surprisingly thick with tightly packed earth sandwiched between two massive stone walls. Even in its state of rapid dilapidation, it felt sturdy beneath our careful steps. The sound of hard-soled hiking boots stomping over stone and rammed earth was like music. The wall was topped with staggered guard towers and we stopped for a long rest at one of the taller towers – a two-storey stone structure with a one-man souvenir and refreshment shop inside. A ladder made of tree branches and wire granted us access to the top of the tower and we sat up there, on top of the Great Wall of China, and seemingly on top of the world. The “secret” wall excursion had delivered on all of its promises. In our two-hour walk on top of the wall, we did not encounter another soul save for the single, non-intrusive refreshment seller in the tower. The experience was moving, contemplative, inspiring…it was epic!

Wang found an inconspicuous path that led us back down the mountain to a small village. While we were all sad to leave the euphoria of standing on the Great Wall behind, we were all looking forward to a hot meal. At the foot of the mountain, Wang managed, using only hand gestures (like pointing to the wall and rubbing his belly) to ask us if we were happy with the experience and to solicit a tip from the group. We were all elated and happily relinquished a generous stack of Yuan, which gave Wang a big smile. We figured that his grandchildren probably want the Nintendo Wii too.

Lunch was delicious – heaping portions of steamy stir-fried dishes, served family-style on a Chinese turn-table. Family style is the best way to eat in China, where (like in most parts of Asia) the concept of Western food service etiquette is completely foreign. When we dine out in Asia, our entrees almost never arrive together. One of us will be nearly finished before the other’s entrée is delivered. Appetizers arrive with entrées. After months in Asia, we have learned to share everything. Halfway through our meal, the hostess (without a word of English) abruptly demanded that we pony up for the Cokes and beer. It is a bizarre culture difference to which we never quite grow accustomed since it conflicts with our own rules of etiquette.

The ride back to Beijing was shorter than the morning ride but, to the weary bodies in the minibus, it felt much longer. The physical and emotional exertion of our epic endeavor had left us in a state of mellow fatigue. Aaron and I made it out for some Peking duck (a must-have in Beijing) but retired early to reflect on the day and let the surrealism of walking on the Great Wall of China fade into awesome reality.

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