Tiananmen Square is the center of Beijing, and everyone in Beijing was
flocking there for National Day. We expected some celebrations or
entertainment on the square in honor of National Day, but there was nothing
except masses and masses of people. Despite western connotations with a
massacre, the square is merely a large public square, a great slab of
concrete in the center of Beijing. And in the center of this is Chairman
Mao’s mausoleum, where his body has been preserved and on view to the public
since his death in 1976. To the west of the square is the Great Hall of the
People and to the east the Chinese Revolution and History Museum. The
square is named after Tiananmen (Gate of Heavenly Peace) which is at the
northern end of the square and is home to a giant portrait of Mao. Through
this gate is the Forbidden City.
The hoards of people in the square were mostly taking
pictures, and quite often we were requisitioned to pose with them. As we
wandered the massive square, small squadrons of army people would march
through the crowd wearing their green uniforms with gold buttons. We were
frequently the target of men with red velvet lined boxes selling Rolex
watches and others selling Mao’s little red book or a Mao watch, or ice
cream (unfortunately not Mao shaped). We spent the afternoon sitting on the
museum steps and just watching all the people who flooded the square. We
were interrupted only by “art students” who wanted us to come and see an
“art exhibition.” They may very well have been art students, and what they
showed us was indeed art, but the main purpose of course was for us to buy
the paintings.
One morning, we decided to personally pay our respects to the
founder of the People’s Republic of China. We joined the long queue and
shuffled around Tiananmen Square for an hour, at the end of which we entered
the mausoleum and were rewarded by a 30-second view of Chairman Mao’s
corpse. He was covered with a red flag bearing the hammer and sickle; only
his face was visible and, perhaps because of the lighting, it looked like it
was made of orange play dough. I tried to think something profound when I
looked at him, but I was so impressed by his orange hue that I failed to
think much of anything beyond, “There’s
Mao. It’s weird that I’m looking at his body nearly 30 years after his
death. I wonder if it’s really him, or wax?” Once outside of the
mausoleum, we had to pass through a gauntlet of vendors selling Mao
memorabilia before we were safely on the square again.
