Beijing Hotels Booking

beijing hotels booking
    beijing hotels
  • (Beijing Hotel) The Beijing Hotel is a five-star state-owned hotel in the Dongcheng District of Beijing, China.
  • An engagement for a performance by an entertainer
  • the act of reserving (a place or passage) or engaging the services of (a person or group); "wondered who had made the booking"
  • An act of reserving accommodations, travel, etc., or of buying a ticket in advance
  • engagement: employment for performers or performing groups that lasts for a limited period of time; "the play had bookings throughout the summer"
  • (booked) reserved in advance

Beijing Opera 1
Beijing Opera 1
Sandra and I are opera buffs and whenever we come to a town or city that boasts an opera house we try to attend a performance. It's not always easy; the gods of opera need a lot of placating and impose all sorts of obstacles on would-be attenders from strange countries - the opera house is closed because it's outside the season (Tokyo), it's being refurbished (Florence, Italy), it's burnt down (Barcelona, Spain - the Catalans do things in style) but we have a fair success rate. But the Beijing Opera was on its own. For a start we didn't know where it was located nor did we know the Chinese word for opera - and if we had we should not have understood any reply to our queries. We started enquiries with our English-speaking guide. "Not possible" he said dismissively to our question about getting tickets. I spied a challenge. We were more successful with the hotel information desk and the lady there cut out a neat square from the newspaper, all in Chinese, which she assured us told all we needed to know. Armed with this precious object we, and two other intrepid members of our group, hired a taxi and waved the square in front of the driver. He nodded sagely and drove off through increasingly scruffy districts. Suddenly he drove into a side alley and stopped in front of a wall on which sat three grinning Chinese men. He indicated that we should get out of the car. We had no choice and started to tense ourselves for the inevitable mugging. He drove off, we stood where he had left us and the Chinese continued to grin. Ten minutes later he returned and indicated that we should get back into the car, then he drove off. We later discovered that he needed to fill up with petrol and that there were regulations against doing so with passengers on board. We continued through the run-down parts of Beijing until he stopped in front of a very unpretentious building with a ticket guichet looking straight onto the street. We gathered that this was the Beijing Opera booking office. We indicated to the lady behind the grille that we wanted tickets for that evening and in gestures she indicated that this was possible. We wanted 6 and she wrote down the figure 30, which we took to be the price in yuan. Now 30 yuan is as near nothing as it is possible to be - only the Turkish Lira was worth less - so I gave her 180 yuan for 6 tickets. She gave me 150 back and I thought she had only one ticket available. I indicated again, that we needed 6. She nodded and still refused the extra 150 yuan. Finally we realised that the tickets were 5 yuan each so that the 30 paid for all 6. We rode, uneventfully, back to our hotel celebrating our success - so far. That evening we were booked to go, as a group, to have a Beijing Duck dinner. We had decided that, if we had to, we would give priority to high art over mere food and opt out of the duck. We asked our guide how far the restaurant was from the opera. "Not very far", he said. We hoped he was right and agreed to dine with the rest of our group. When we arrived at the restaurant we found that it was indeed "Not very far"; it was next door to the opera, so we were able to have our duck, though we missed the dessert. Our seats were hard wood (what do you expect for 5 yuan?) but centrally placed with a good view of the stage. We awaited the rise of the curtain with excitement. It was completely different from western opera. The music was full of percussion instruments - gongs, drums, wood blocks - played very loud and accompanied by wooden pipes, flutes and similar instruments. The singing was high pitched - the connoiseurs look specially for the falsetto practiced by the top singers. The female parts were played by young men. (Later in our trip we saw so-called Beijing Opera with glamorous young women dancing. It had more affinity to a Hollywood musical than to the real thing and was obviously adapted for western audiences.) The plot was simple, we could tell the villains from the heroes by their dress - the heroes always won. We were entranced by the whole thing.
Jingshan Park, Beijing
Jingshan Park, Beijing
Wade and I had two full days in Beijing; we spent one at the Olympics and the other wandering the city. We had excellent advice from Holly and two Lonely Planet guide books (the big Beijing one and a smaller one specially produced for Jet Set Sports, the company that organized our trip) and a taxi card that told the driver how to get us back to the hotel, and so we set out to see the city. We went to the Forbidden City early in the morning and walked straight through (although we somehow missed the Starbucks, which is probably a good thing, really). We were planning to go on to Tiananmen Square but when we came out of the Forbidden City we were going in the wrong direction. Instead, we found ourselves looking across the road at Jingshan Park, which the guide book described this way: "Known as Coal Hill by Westerners during legation days, Jingshan Park was shaped from the earth excavated to create the moat of the Forbidden City. The hill supposedly protects the palace from the evil spirits -- or dust storms -- from the north." We went into the garden mostly because it was there, and we climbed the very large and very steep hill for the same reason. It was hot and humid and the pollution was everything we had read it would be. We made jokes during the climb, but it was a slog. At the top of the gigantic hill, we found a beautiful pavilion, housing a Buddhist shrine. The stone statue of the Buddha was huge, wrapped in a bright saffron robe, smiling peacefully. An older man and a young boy, maybe Henry's age, came in while we were standing there; the man spoke to the boy and waved at some cushions on the ground in front of the Buddha. The boy laid down in child's pose with his arms stretched toward the Buddha and his head buried in the cushion; the old man leaned forward from the waist. They were both still. Then the boy popped up and grabbed the man's hand and started chattering and they went out together. That Buddha was my favorite thing in Beijing, because it was so peaceful and because finding it was both an accident and a struggle.

beijing hotels booking
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