In November, 2004, we traveled to Beijing, China. Frank was presenting a paper at a conference there, and Alex and I tagged along. While Frank was off at the conference, Alex and I took a couple of tours of the city. One was a bus tour of the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace. It was raining off and on that day, which made the city seem enchanting and mysterious. The buildings seemed to rise up from the mist like they were conjured out of a dream.
Alex was four at the time, and he enjoyed riding the bus and running around on the grounds of the ancient palaces. Our tour guide, Miss Lotus, was tolerant and kind to him, even though he often interrupted her with questions and refused to stick with the group, either running ahead or falling behind to stare at a dragon sculpture or pick up rocks and put them in his pocket.
We got stopped a number of times by groups of Chinese tourists who wanted to take a picture of Alex. He obliged, but started to protest about the fourth or fifth time around, which made the young Chinese women giggle and chase him around the square. They called him "Cutie Boy" and "Lovely Boy" and other snippets of endearing English phrases. It was like traveling with a miniature rock star.
Alex remembers flashes of the highlights of our trip--the Great Wall, the preschool we visited, a lady who gave him fruit and candy. What I remember best are scenes like the ones in this picture--a misty day, red umbrellas and impressive buildings. I also remember friendly people, the clear blue skies after the rain, and the joy of seeing something exotic and new for the first time.
