Lactic Acid in Beijing

The guest house in Shuihu was little more than three cinderblocks around a paved courtyard that served as both dining area and bonfire pit. When we entered through the gate, two enormous mongrels growled at us and pulled on chains that were lashed to walnut trees. I was uneasy about the dogs, unsure of whether they were pets or livestock, but it crossed my mind several times that evening that they could appear on the breakfast table just as easily as the trout that floated listlessly in a trough beside the outhouse.

In our wasted state, comfort was of little concern and a cardboard box full of sweating Tsing Tao and ice water was welcome relief. Our hosts went right to work in the kitchen and tabled a feast of kung pao chicken, barbecued fish, and crispy river shrimp. I didn't last long at the campfire and my head soon hit the sack of rice at the end of my cot. The next morning, confident the dogs had made it through the night, I enjoyed fried bread, omelette, and corn meal porridge - my first warm breakfast since arriving in China.


Sympathetic to our stiffening limbs, Leo spared us the torture of another climb and took us to a resevoir called Suichang Cheng (water side of the Great Wall) where I could enjoy the Wall from the safety of solid ground. On our way back to Beijing, we stopped at a restaurant that offered not only the best eggplant in China, but also the world's most utilitarian lavatory (below).


Our final stop was at the Ming Tombs where we were reunited with the herd of western tourists that migrates between Beijing's headline sites. At this point, my quadriceps had stopped cooperating and I waddled to a bench in the parking lot to watch French Canadians helplessly search for their tour buses.