July 12-- Capital Museum

I am reaching my limit-- tired, hot, and have done the first circle of things. More time would mean seriously learning Chinese, something I have pretty much punted in favor of communication by any means feasible. Often they don't understand me, or when they correct me, I realize my  pronunciation was not even close, or else I'm not sure what the difference was. But except for any sort of conversation, basic communication has worked out pretty well, with generally willing and helpful partners. I had a map issue this morning (subway stations were misleadingly marked, on the wrong side of the ringroad, and it was too hazy to really place the sun); a helpful policeman patiently explained which way to go, which seemed the opposite to me. He saw me sneaking the other way and explained again; of course he was right. Being divorced from text is a little strange, though there is a surprising amount of alphabetic text, and even English. And the internet, of course.

Le dedans du Palais de l'Empereur de Chine à Péking

View of the Imperial Chinese Palace in Beijing, 1750

Today I went to the Capital Museum, a large dark gray socialist piece of architecture that is supposed to be reminiscent of a watchtower. But it is full of light; and jade, and calligraphy, and ceramics, and an interesting if somewhat smarmy exhibit about hutong life in the early 1900s, and an interesting history of civilization which includes an idiosyncratic selection of great achievements: very early hominids, cave painting (in the Sahara, they say?), and so on up to the invention of bakelite. There was a gorgeous piece of petrified wood, a gnarly cedar root, with an opaque and remarkably uninformative explanation about how wood becomes fossilized. The lighting on the jade pieces made them seem to glow from within-- many tiny LED lights around the top edges of the cubical cases,all focused on the piece-- a wonderful effect. And many lovely ceramics. I have an idea how I could make a melon-shaped vessel, by making a string net and hanging a leather-hard round pot in it, then if it needed encouragement, pressing out around the string a little-- like those Italian cheeses. But unfortunately, mostly I was just beat. So hot. 

Tonight, Roger will wake me at 3:00 and I will take a taxi to the airport to go home. I am ready to be home, but anxious that everything works and gets me there as planned. When I get home I would like: to sit out on the deck with a glass of wine; to eat tasty peaches, not the bland ones I have had here; to be in my garden; to have a big salad. I will draw a series of lotus drawings/paintings; think about what to do next. Assuming that I do not, in fact, slide into the ocean.