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We made it back to Williamsport—with only a slight delay on the Chicago to Philadelphia flight—around 4 a.m., our bodies still on China time. To all of you who posted comments and e-mailed us during the past two-plus weeks, our thanks. It was great to hear from you and to share the experience with you. And to the 11 other families we traveled with almost 12 years ago, so much of what we saw brought back memories of that trip (yes, even including an unplanned overnight in a bad motel).

For the final post, some faces of China’s future that we observed along the way. Zaijian.

Beijing

We began our final full day in Beijing (and in China) with a visit to the Temple of Heaven built in 1420. It's where Chinese emperors offered sacrifices. The Temple and grounds cover more area than the Forbidden City because the emperors couldn’t have their own houses larger than one built for heaven.

Almost as interesting as the buildings themselves were the grounds surrounding them. They were covered with people engaged in a variety of activities, including dancing (that’s me fourth from the…; kidding, of course), a Chinese version of Hacky Sack (see Leah in action), some type of paddle ball and as many musical performances as you can imagine. The light rain didn’t seem to bother anyone.

We briefly visited a pearl shopping district and made our final stop at a very large open-air market that had the feel of an arts festival (and where I got a copy of Chairman Mao’s Little Red Book). “Cecilia” wanted us to have a local experience at lunch, so she took us to a restaurant that specialized in “hot pot” dining. You work up a sweat cooking the ingredients right at the table.

For dinner we were on our own and began to revert to our American ways—Frosted Flakes and yogurt from the local grocery store in the hotel room. The evening entertainment consisted of watching The Last Emperor, a copy of which I got for the equivalent of two dollars, on the laptop. Clearly, we're winding down; tomorrow we head for home.

Beijing

The theme of our Fourth of July was old Beijing. We visited by pedicab the historic hutong district, characterized by narrow streets and alleyways. The small houses typically are passed down through generations. Unfortunately, since the mid-20th century many of them have been demolished to make room for new development.

We visited the home and workshop of Mr. Zhang, who is well-known for his paper cuts, and had lunch with Mrs. Zou, shown with Leah in her courtyard. (Can you believe she is 51?) This was her first time hosting a foreign family. We hope we didn’t scare her off. We also climbed 60 steep steps up the Drum Tower where—you guessed it—drums were once used to help the residents keep track of time.

We also visited a sports institute (no pictures allowed) where invited athletes from all over China come to train with the hope of making it to the various national teams. We saw gymnastics (adorable little ones practicing), badminton, Tae Kwon-Do, volleyball and, of course, table tennis.

Other activities today included a visit to the crowded Silk Market, where you are practically assaulted by sales clerks, a visit to the Garden of Prince Gong, a dinner of Peking Duck (well, for one of us) and an impressive acrobatics show in the evening.

Reflecting on the hutong tour, Cheryl said that since I like bicycling maybe giving pedicab tours would be a good activity for me when I retire. But then she quickly reconsidered, figuring there is no place to take people to in Williamsport (plus, she offered, I would probably be the first person ever charged with pedicab road rage).

It turns out we had Fourth of July fireworks here in Beijing after all with evening thunder and lightning followed by flooded streets.

The Great Wall

After spending a couple of hours walking on top of it, we now know why it’s called the Great Wall of China and not just the Very Good Wall. “Cecilia” took us to a section northeast of Beijing that attracts fewer tourists. And we saw why. It was difficult going in parts—very steep and uneven; we saw the bloody aftermath of one person’s fall—but spectacular in every sense. Pick your cliché; it fits. We all felt like we got in a good workout; it was hot, in the 90s, and we were sweating (some of us more than others, it seems). And Leah got to fulfill a dream of playing her violin on the Great Wall, becoming a bit of a tourist attraction herself in the process! We rode ski-lift-type chairs up to the access point and took a fun ride down a toboggan at the end. All in all, a great day.

The Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square

An iconic first full day in Beijing—The Forbidden City in the morning, Tiananmen Square and the Great Hall of the People in the afternoon and a Kung Fu show in the evening.

Photos (top to bottom; click on them to enlarge, but do so at your own risk): 1) With a family who first asked to take our picture outside the Forbidden City; 2) Inside the Forbidden City, which has 10,000 rooms; 3) Our Beijing guide “Cecilia,” Cheryl and Leah on the steps leading to one of the halls; 4) Guarding the Great Hall of the People, the vast government building where China’s 10,000 “representatives” meet; 5) Chairman Meow outside the Great Hall; 6) In Tiananmen Square, where Leah took us literally when we told her to go fly a kite; 7) In Tiananmen Square with the famous entrance to the Forbidden City in the background, and 8) Some of the performers from The Legend of Kung Fu in The Red Theatre. (All of them had less body fat and hair than I do.)

Xi'an to Beijing

We were able to get a later flight to Beijing today, leaving in the afternoon instead of the morning. That gave us a little more time to explore Xi’an since we missed a day with the plane problems.

This morning we visited the Big Wild Goose Pagoda and while we toured the grounds, we were unable to go inside. It’s been closed since the May 12th earthquake, which caused some cracking. Xi’an is located in the province directly north of Sichuan, which was the epicenter of the quake. “April” (pictured outside the pagoda) said she was giving a tour in the Terra Cotta Museum when it struck, sending everyone running out of the building. When she returned home that evening, much of her furniture, including a piano, had moved. The quake is still a topic of conversation here.

We also visited a jade store and an art gallery that features the work of local farmers (and where Leah and Cheryl tried their hands at calligraphy) before having lunch at a restaurant that specializes in dumplings.

Our flight here to Beijing was actually on time. The only problem with the trip was that security officers at the airport confiscated from Leah’s violin case the rosin she uses on her bow because they said it was flammable. No one had even checked the case up to this point. She still hopes to play on the Great Wall; maybe now it will just sound a little scratchy.

Xi'an

Today was the first day that, for a time at least, we probably heard as much English as Mandarin. In short, we were American gringo tourists visiting the Terra Cotta Warriors Museum, which was about a half-hour crazy van ride from our hotel.

The experience lived up to the hype. There are three open pits where the excavation of these life-size clay figures from the Qin Dynasty is ongoing. So far only a fraction of what archeologists believe is there has been uncovered. The scope of what was done during the period—more than 700,000 people helped to build this separate underground world—is truly impressive.

For dinner, we attended another event that caters to the tourist—a seven-course meal of Chinese food followed by a musical show about the Great Tang Dynasty in an ornate theater. “April,” our Xi’an guide, managed to get Leah on stage afterward to have her picture taken with the performers. (Leah is the one without the headgear.)

One footnote to the day. In between the dinner and the show I was walking to the back of the theater when I heard someone call my name. Turns out that a student of mine is touring with a group of musicians from Pennsylvania. In a country of 1.3 billion, what are the odds of that encounter? Lugnuts: You just can never get away from them.

Holding Pattern

I wish there were a way to make this long story short, but there’s not; we had another bad travel day. When our morning flight from Hangzhou to Xi’an was delayed because of mechanical problems, we were taken by bus from the airport back to a hotel for lunch and to await word on our fate. We later learned that the flight had been cancelled and we were sentenced to a day in the hotel room, re-scheduled to leave at 10 p.m.

One of our activities was looking down from 16 floors above and watching the chaotic intersections. No accidents to report but many close calls.

With “Ben” no longer with us and the International Hotel much less accommodating to westerners than the places we had been staying, we were essentially on our own. We decided to take a short walk through the crowded market area where the hotel was located. On our way back, we were approached by a girl who looked to be about 9 or 10 but was actually a half-year older than Leah. Lu Guang Shu was a delight. She was intent on somehow communicating with us. We followed her to a bookstore where she borrowed an electronic translator and managed to exchange names and phone numbers with Leah.

Back at the hotel, we made it through dinner using only chopsticks, although we didn’t contribute much to the dinnertime conversation as the only English speakers among our table of infrequent fliers.

We finally left the International around 10 p.m., made the 20-minute bus ride to the airport and boarded our 11:20 flight—only to sit on the runway for two hours because, we learned later, a passenger became belligerent. The end of this story is we checked into to our hotel in Xi’an around 5 a.m.—just in time to see the sun rise.