Copyright: Aske Munck

The tiny Chinese girl giggles shyly as she grabs hold of the caged black man’s hugely enlarged lower lip. Her boyfriend gets ready to snap the moment with his mobile phone.

Right next to the couple several other girls gaze at a huge sculpture of a white and furious brute. They approach the sculpture as if the irate beast were a real threat, and opt for a hasty retreat after having posed with obligatory v-sign in front of the art work.

Copyright: Aske Munck

We are at 798 Art Zone – the some what cryptic name for an artist enclave in the eastern part of Beijing.

In the old days it was a huge factory complex, producing electronics for the politburo and housing the workers and their families from birth to death (or at least retirement), but in 2002 artists began to set up workshops and galleries, and very quickly an entire village sprang up with cafes, restaurants, bookstores, shops, and bars.

Photo: Storyvillegirl

Bringing together contemporary art, architecture, and culture the place is now one of the foremost excursion points for tourists and locals alike wanting to have a taste of today’s Chinese creativity.

We stroll through a seemingly endless labyrinth of art houses and galleries. Some are tiny, hidden behind concealed entrances, others huge, almost dry dock-like structures, leaving no doubt as to the original purpose of the buildings. Some require a small entry fee, while most of them are free.

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We pass everything from minuscule sculptures and video installations to huge photos and grandiose paintings and even a small shop selling copies of Mao Tse-Tung’s Little Red Book and playing cards with different effigies of Chairman Mo - in sheer veneration of the great leader’s name, obviously.

Walking around for hours we begin to ponder the seemingly harmless nature of almost everything on show at 798. Not that art necessarily has to be dissident, but where’s the critique of contemporary society, of the Chinese leadership and the politburo’s grip on power?

Copyright: Aske Munck

Finally we pass a daring if somewhat blunt installation. It is a small booth standing next to a sculpture. ‘Information’ is says on a small signpost on the booth which is hermetically sealed inn wrapped plastic. A harsh comment on the ubiquitous Chinese censorship, it would seem. Alas, we are told that the booth really just is a freshly delivered information booth and thus no work of art.

Copyright: Aske Munck

But even though the art exhibited in 798 may no longer be very edgy whereas critique of contemporary society is concerned, it is still a nice place to spend a couple of hours.

BEIJING 798 ART ZONE, Jiuxianqiao Lu, Beijing.

Go further: Read here about Munck and Zemanova's visit to Shanghai's artsy village Taikang Lu.

Photo: Chris and Sue

Shanghai has a reputation for being a shopper’s paradise – which is not far from the truth. But when you don’t care much for either cheap brand knock-offs or gargantuan shopping malls, where you get the real thing but at ridiculously high prices, you inadvertently begin to look for more attractive alternatives. Such an alternative is Taikang Lu.

Photo: Chris and Sue

The area is a cool mixture of old industry facilities and small residential buildings, occupied by artist workshops, galleries, shops, cafes, and restaurants, which have created a cosy neighbourhood in the bustling metropolis, where young and old fashionistas, hip artists, and bewildered tourists meander about the areas maze-like layout.

Photo: Azureisle

In need of a quick pit stop, we enter Kommune, a small café on 210 Taikang Lu where old Chinese propaganda posters adorn the red walls and giggle at the sight of the house aquarium which is filled with plaster statues of Mao and his gang, constantly being encircled by a small school of goldfish.

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The coffee and the chocolate cake may be more expensive than in the rest of the town. But both are also exquisite.

Taikang Lu took off more than a decade ago with the renovation of a four storey candy factory that was subsequently turned into an artists’ workshop. Quickly, more and more artists joined the party, and with them followed tourists, shops and the whole shebang.

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We stroll down the narrow alleyways and enter a design boutique which has just knocked off 50 per cent of all the prices. “There are far fewer customers than usually”, the shopkeeper sighs.

Copyright: Aske Munck

A lot of other places have also discounted the prices to accommodate the customers’ crisis stricken wallets. We look at graphic T-shirts by the artist Jiji, who likes to mix old propaganda clichés with modern pop culture icons, at interior design and furniture, jewellery, porcelain, clothes, shoes, bags. And of course the many galleries that lie scattered throughout Taikung Lu’s labyrinth of lanes and passages.

Copyright: Aske Munck

Jutting out of the steady flow of busy hipsters you see the local people, who still live right in the middle of the hip hood. They scuffle about with laundry in their arms or stacks of eggs and dumplings on their bicycles.

Photo: A_laubner

In spite of the growing commercialization of the area, they refuse to give up their old neighbourhood, and so far – thank God – nobody has forced them to move. So you will still catch them sitting in front of their small houses or playing go or ma-jong side by side with the in-crowd, which is exactly what gives Taikang Lu its alluring charm.

Go further: Read here about Munck and Zemanova's vi to Beijing 798 Art Zone.

Copyright: Aske Munck

At the end of the imposing palm flanked driveway a two metre tall turban toting usher bows slightly and greets us with a wide smile, gleaming whitely from underneath his impressively lush and twirled black mustachio.

You know that you’re in for a luxury treat when you enter The Imperial Hotel – the Indian capital’s most luxurious address. And what better place to dive into a high tea – this truly brilliant remnant of a long gone British colonial era – than The Imperial Hotel?

We stroll along the marbled floors, past the in-house Chanel boutique and the numerous artefacts and antiques exhibited throughout the premises and turn right to enter the restaurant ‘1911’, aptly named after the year in which New Delhi became the capital of India. The hotel, however, was built much later, in 1931 and stands as one of the cornerstones of the exuberant heritage left by the British.

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We actually came for the renowned high tea, but we quickly skip the set tea menu – as we are told it is only served in the somewhat stuffy covered atrium bar – and opt for our own à la carte version of this long standing Brit-tradition in order to be able to enjoy it from the restaurant’s superbly shaded veranda, where you have a great view over the lush lawn (what’s the point of lounging indoors when the Delhi winter is like a northern European summer, anyway?).

We choose a green tea and a masala tea from the house selection, and a few minutes later a waiter appears wearing a bright red and freshly starched uniform with two rows of shiny brass buttons. He pours the tea from small silvery pots with quilted shoulder sheaths, covering the handle so you’re able to refill yourself without burning your hands.

Around us the well to do-Indians are enjoying their Sunday, and a couple of children are playing football with a half-empty water bottle, and a middle-aged man in a dark jacket, turquoise turban and riding boots is bragging about this afternoon’s polo-achievements to some friends.

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We sip the wonderfully spicy tea and tug into our crème brûlée and sandwiches, whilst ogling the continuous stream of newcomers through the imposing colonnade.

The subtle chatter from the many tables is brought to an abrupt end when a waiter stumbles and drops a bowl filled with a yellowish substance onto one of the guests. Immediately four other waiters come to his rescue, and within two minutes the unfortunate ‘victim’ is directed to the changing room, carrying a crisp white shirt he can wear while they speed clean his own shirt. Luxury does really make a difference.

THE IMPERIAL HOTEL; Janpath, New Delhi 110001.

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FIND MORE HOTELS IN NEW DEHLI

Copyright: Aske Munck

When strolling about the Louvre in Paris, the Winter Palace in St.Petersburg, or the Vatican City in Rome you inevitably wonder what it would be like to actually live in these imposing and lavishly ornamented structures. To be king, tsar or even pope for a day.

The same feeling strikes you when you meander about the grandiose Summer Palace on the outskirts of the Chinese capital Beijing. For the sheer immensity of this superb castle complex that envelops the Kunming Lake is absolutely breathtaking. The garden layout and the current buildings date from the late 19th century when dowager empress Cixi completely renovated the gardens that had been annihilated by the French and the Brits, and went on to move her court and administration out here, where she – not unlike the French kings in Versailles – led a decadent life, aloof from the struggles of her pauperized subjects.

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We, however, need not leave it to our imagination to see what it would be like to be emperor for a day. In stead we approach a hidden gateway within the palace east gate and place a simple phone call. Within minutes the shuffling sound of hasty footsteps is heard behind the door, which suddenly springs open, revealing a well-combed bellhop holding a plate with two steaming mini towels to wipe off the dirt from our sightseeing odyssey. “Did you have a nice visit?” the bellhop asks politely as he beckons us to enter the hidden gateway.

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For the recently opened Aman at Summer Palace is actually next door to the Summer Palace, situated in a series of completely refurbished annexes that were used to house nobles and businessmen waiting for an audience with the emperor.

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We stroll through the resort’s maze of beautiful pavilions, some of which house the exuberant suites, while others are used for the restaurants that offer exquisite Cantonese, French and Japanese cuisine.

In the cigar room a couple of Chinese businessmen seem to be enjoying what smells like a couple of well kept Cuban Cohibas, and in the game room two Canadian gentlemen are trying the refined art of calligraphy under the supervision of a Chinese master.

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We pass the lobby, where the soft background music is provided by a discreetly placed woman playing Mandarin tunes on a liuqin (Chinese mandolin), and head for the underground wellness area.

After an almost two hour long massage in the opulent spa which is not unlike the classic underground lairs of the James Bond villains, we go for a swim in the 25 metre long indoor pool, where a waiter immediately appears to supply us with cold mineral water and iced chunks of kiwi, lychee and strawberry to sooth you after a couple of arduous crawl-laps.

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And later on? It’s a tough choice of catching a movie in the 35 seat in-house cinema or hanging back in our abundant suite watching a DVD or just bubbling away in the tub.
So much to do, so little time. No wonder emperors had little time to mingle with the people.

AMAN RESORT AT SUMMER PALACE; 15 Gongmenqian Street; Summer Palace, Beijing

Copyright: Aske Munck

Despite its appearance as a top modern metropolis Guangzhou cannot shake its ancient Cantonese past, nor does it seem to want to. And if you really want to experience the real Chinese roots and see past the glitzy malls and high rise emporiums, you should head for the notorious Quingping Market just north of Shamian Island.

Here you'll find every possible ingredient you ever needed (or never knew existed) to perform traditional Chinese medicine from bizarrely smelling herbs and mushrooms to all sorts of dried insects, reptiles and small animals.

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The merchants are just opening their shops as we stroll down the main street Quingpin Lu. The ubiquitous Chinese sound of people clearing their throats and airways of a good nights rest fill the street along with the rattling noise from carts ensuring the morning delivery of fresh supplies.

A man squatting in the side of the street is chopping off the head and feet of a middle sized tortoise before splitting open its shell and gutting it completely, colouring the pavement bright red, as he sifts through its intestines.

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In the adjoining shops you can find virtually everything on display: dried full size snakeskin, desiccated deer hoofs and parched lizards on a stick, allegedly good for the immune system if soaked in water (but I'll take a small bout of flu anytime).

One of the stall sells fungi that will enhance your memory, and another has an impressive display of huge deer antlers that will stimulate your blood circulation, if ground to a powder and ingested, one of the merchants tells us.

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Right next to him a small stall sells live scorpions (apparently good against migraines and rheumatisms). Huge plastics tubs are teeming with thousands of squirming insects, raising their tails in a vain attempt to threaten each other with their poisonous claws. Quingping has a remedy for everything.

Although the local authorities cleaned up the market and banned the selling of live dogs, cats, bats and monkeys, notably after the SARS epidemic in 2003, the market is still not considered a tourist attraction. Quite the contrary - especially for the squeamish. 

Copyright: Aske Munck

On the other hand, visiting tourists who take offence by the obvious disregard for endangered species on sale like sea horses or tiger paws (if that was what it really was), are probably the only means to persuade the Chinese authorities to take steps to end the illegal trade in species threatened by extinction.

QUINGPING MARKET; around Quingping Lu, Quingping Schichang and Liu'ersan Lu, Guangzhou.