Beijing's Parks: Get Up and Go

Temple of Heaven

The grounds of the Temple of Heaven are so expansive that you need to visit several times to see everything. The stone and wood temple was built in 1420 during the Ming dynasty for imperial prayers for good harvests. The northern end of the 660-acre park is semicircular while the southern end is square, reflecting the Chinese belief that heaven is round and the earth is square.

Just after dawn, light filters through the park's thousands of cypress trees. Fields of lavender blooms are in great supply, and the temple structures are resplendent in burgundy and blue tile.

For those interested in seeing who's doing what where, the grounds can be hard to track. Hear the faint strains of a Chinese yodeler, and he'll be gone by the time you arrive. But there are roughly designated exercise areas, as a few early-morning rambles through the park make clear. At that hour, the park's west side hews to more intimate scenes: friends clustered with their bird cages swinging in the trees, both pet and owner out for a bit of fresh air. In other areas, individuals take their exercise alone, while other groups chant and clap.

The park's east side presents a very different population. The southeast hosts the sword wielders. The Chinese words for exercise literally mean "to forge steel with the body," and these words resonate when viewing Temple of Heaven's groups of armed taiqi enthusiasts.

The northeast draws a far more soulful exerciser, where the waltz and fox trot are carried out in grand style. Lu Mei and Xi Rongli graciously dominated the waltzing on a recent morning. "We come almost every morning to practice, for fun," Lu said. The couple was surrounded by dozens of other less light-footed pairs wheeling around the open grounds in casual separates and suit coats.

Farther north, Zhou Xilu held sway over a group eager to learn what looked like a polka. "Most of my students are already retired," Zhou said. "It's a good way for people to get out and see each other."

As these kinds of public spaces continue to change shape and diminish in the modern capital, she added, the city parks remain one of the best ways for people to stretch, fox trot, leap, spin and dance. "I'm very happy here!" she exclaimed before dancing back into the crowd.

A bit to the north, in an alley just east of the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests, known locally as Bettor's Lane, the shady benches are overrun with card games, Chinese checkers and chess played in big groups. I sat down along one of these benches; I couldn't keep up with Beijing's retirees. Several people laughed, and one commented that if I came to the parks more often, I wouldn't be so tired.

Beihai Park

Beihai, the beautiful network of lakes and greenery above the Forbidden City, is perhaps Beijing's most scenic site for a stroll with the exercising masses. The lake dominates the park, whose Chinese name means North Sea. To the southeast of the lake is the White Dagoba, a hill with a Buddhist shrine constructed in 1651 atop the dirt and debris produced from hollowing out the moat around the Forbidden City. The hill provides one of the best panoramic views of Beijing.

There is a slower pace to the activity of Beihai Park, especially along its eastern corridor, where chilled-out taiqi is the order of the day. Elsewhere, exercisers experiment freely in swordplay, taiqi and water calligraphy.

Li Jingsheng has been paying morning visits to Beihai for the past 40 years. He said he had previously been an entertainer at the park's imperial-style Fang Shan restaurant, where he sang and did impersonations. He did an impromptu goat and a dog for me, followed by a motorcar. "And many people even say I look like Jiang Zemin," he commented solemnly, referring to China's previous president.

Li whipped out his water brushes and began slathering Chinese calligraphy on the park's stone walkway. "Welcome American Friend!" he wrote in bold, flowing characters.

North of the park, a stretch of flashy new cafes offers the perfect spots to duck in for coffee and a pastry. But for those who favor mixing with the locals, head to the park's East Gate, where a small lane, She Shan Men Jie, regularly hosts a tightly packed crowd of hollering vendors and their equally loud patrons, starting around 5 a.m. This is the place to stop in for socks, fish, bananas, footwear or the ubiquitous Beijing 2008 Olympics boating hat. By 9 a.m., the entire market will have shut down and disappeared.

For breakfast here, try a xiaobing jia jidan , or small bread stuffed with egg. "Just like your American hamburgers!" one vendor happily noted.

Caroline Cooper is a freelance writer based in Beijing.