Photo: Hiroki Toyosaki

The Chinese tour groups are everywhere in the centre of Beijing. Their sheer amount is overwhelming, quite frankly. Every single one of them consists of about 30-40 tourists (the average bus load, we figure), wearing identical coloured hats or raincoats so that no one gets lost. They stick closely together and talk and laugh loudly – really loudly – almost all the time.

The groups are waiting to enter The Forbidden City - the emperor’s vast palace grounds that until recently was strictly off-limits for mere mortals. For almost 500 years it was the absolute power centre both politically, ceremonially and symbolically.

Photo: Mag3737

Not surprisingly, today The Forbidden City ranks among China’s biggest tourist attractions, and this is definitely not a place you go if you need some time by yourself, away from the raucous crowds that clog almost all sights in The Middle Kingdom.

Everywhere you have to queue from entrance to exit with huge groups and screechy voices explaining the sight’s history in Mandarin, French, English, and German. Unless…you are familiar with a way of getting the sublime architecture of this World Heritage site all to yourself.

Photo: Walter Parenteau

Because if you are in the know, you will be able to find a quiet spot where you can rest on a bench almost all by yourself and bask in the sun as you let your legs off the hook for a while and maybe even sneak in a little catnap and dream yourself back to the days, where this was the innermost sanctity of the emperor, his advisors and concubines.

The Forbidden City was established in the beginning of the 15th century, and 980 of the original structures have survived to this day, from the 1920ies under the administration of the Palace Museum. The huge palace houses a gargantuan collection of artefacts from the Ming and Qing dynasties many of which are on display in the endless number of red pavilions.

Photo: Cresny

Here’s what you do. When you enter the grandiose Palace Museum you simply hold to the right (eastwards) and steer clear of the bustling hoards of tour groups that almost always intersect the site right down the middle.

To the right, however, you’ll find the small pavilions that used to serve as living quarters, library, temples, theatres, gardens, and even a tennis court. Today it has all been turned in to museums necessitating an additional fee of measly 10 yuan, which surprisingly enough appear to have a dissuasive effect on many tourist wallets.

Photo: Dbaron

But the 10 extra yuan are a bargain, as you’ll almost certainly have the place almost to yourself, leaving you free to explore the warren of buildings and alleyways in a serene and placid atmosphere, making you almost forget that you’re in the middle of boisterous Beijing. And all of a sudden it is not that difficult to understand why the emperor only rarely and reluctantly left The Forbidden City.

THE FORBIDDEN CITY, The Palace Museum, Beijing.

Photo: Nep

There’s a big crowd gathering in front of the display windows at the upmarket Matsuzakaya department store in Tokyo’s posh Ginza neighbourhood.

Dozens of people are gazing dazzled at a baker putting glazing on a huge cake fixed unto a slowly revolving spear. He then delicately removes the cake and cuts it into small wheel like pieces that are instantly cooled, wrapped, put into boxes, and sold to the patiently waiting customers.

It’s a baumkuchen – or as the Tokyoites call it bamukuheno – a persistent cake craze in the Japanese capital, that for some years have drawn a steady throng of customers every single day.

Copyright: Aske Munck

Even though there’re about 40 people queuing before us, we decide to put our patience to the test. We’ve heard much about the wonders of the bamukuheno, especially the ones from Nenrinya, Tokyo’s top purveyor to the people of this so-called king of cakes.

But when we try to join the end of the queue, a polite cake-queue usher points us towards the stairs where the rest of the customers another 20-30 people are waiting, the line having been cut in two to free the shopping mall entrance from the sugar craving hordes and allow for free entry and exit.

The wait, however, as everything else in super efficient Tokyo proves to be very brief. Not least due to the fact that Nenrinya has cut down the choice to two kinds of cake (white or chocolate) in different piece sizes, all explained to you by eager and polite staff, so you can make your choice while you wait in line instead of clogging up the busy counter.

Copyright: Aske Munck

The baumkuchen is – as the name reveals – a European conception and literally means tree cake. The name refers to the numerous rings in the cake, created as many layers of batter are brushed onto the spits, slowly giving the cake its body and robustness.

It’s a time consuming process which explains the relatively elevated price. Minimum price tag is 750 yen for a small piece, whereas the cheapest ring size piece will set you back 1,050 yen.

Copyright: Aske Munck

While waiting we consider which size we should opt for as it’s really difficult to assess how much cake it will take to soak up the minor tsunami of mouth water that has slowly been building up as our nostrils have feasted on the Christmassy scent of the baking cakes. We opt for a regular ring size, though, deciding it’s big enough to last for at least two days.

We decide to make the cake star in an improvised hotel room afternoon tea for two, and it is tasty. Unbelievably so. Releasing hints of vanilla as you crush the many thin rings of sugar coating, hidden within the fine layered cake.

Copyright: Aske Munck

We quickly learn, however, the trouble with eating a corner of a round thing: there are none. The entire cake disappears before our very eyes in a matter of minutes. Our ephemeral slice of paradise gone, in an uncontrollable saccharine feeding frenzy, leaving us both bewildered, contemplating whether we should go back to Ginza for more.

NENRINYA, Ground Floor, Matsuzakya, 10-1 Ginza, Tokyo Chuo-ku.