Wanderlust; China - Beijing Opera & The Monkey King
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The Zhengyici Peking Opera Theatre sits at an intersection on a main road within one of the last remaining hutongs (historic neighborhoods) in Beijing. A small road barely more than a path leads from my hostel to the theatre. During my short stroll I encounter the sorrowing sight of massive machinery haplessly bulldozing a section of the old buildings. I pause. Mere rubble is all that remains of what once were the lifelong homes of countless generations. Jostling myself from my reverie, I continue onward. Just ahead lies my destination. Approaching the intersection I look left. I look right. A forest of glistening high rise buildings in various stages of construction and completion stretch in all directions as far as the eye can see. They are interspersed here and there by utilitarian concrete mid rises, a reminder of the days of Mao.
Crossing the main road, my senses are on the alert. There is a hierarchy of street crossing etiquette in China, a protocol of hazard that basically bows to size and speed. Lowest and most vulnerable on the pecking order are pedestrians. Traffic lights are best treated with skepticism, for it seems that the appearance of red, green, or yellow is only construed as a hint to be ignored whenever possible. Having survived many a street crossing in China, I know to listen, to look, and to evaluate the best opening - and run.
Arriving unscathed on the other side, I sit down to wait on a low wall surrounding the small plaza outside the theater. I am early and have time to take in the day. At my feet romp two small dogs - appropriately enough, they are Pekingese. Â The owners, two women, smile and talk to each other, relaxed and at ease. It is a beautiful August day, sunny and warm and not too hot.
Hearing an odd sound from above, I look up. Curiously, there is a flock of pigeons circling in a tight circle directly overhead. Swooosh….. swoosh….. swoosh… the repetition is pleasurable; a mantra in the sky. Suddenly they alight on the top of the building next to the theater, and I realize that they have landed on their dovecote. They are out for their afternoon exercise.
The facade of the Zhengyici is colorful, extraordinary and deceptively small. Built in 1688 under the reign of the Kangxi Emperor (the Qing Dynasty), it is the oldest remaining wooden theatre in all of China. After the Cultural Revolution the building and grounds fell into disrepair but were finally saved and restored in 1995. Now the Zhengyici is considered a national treasure. It is rather astounding to think that it survived the Cultural Revolution at all.
Entering the main doors, I purchase my ticket at a small booth and walk inside. I find a small museum housing costumes of past productions and a memorabilia shop. Entering the theatre, I am amazed at its size. Though it is not large by any means, it is much larger than you might guess from the exterior. I take my seat at my table and wait.
The 400 year old myth of the Monkey King has its roots in Buddhist, Taoist and various Chinese religions. Known in China as Si You Ji (Journey to the West), this ancient allegorical tale is based on the legend of Xuan Zang,a  monk who lived during the Tang Dynasty (602-664). It is one of the best known and most beloved epics in all of China and it lends itself well to the stage - the colorful mythic characters are prime material for the traditionally elegant and elaborate costumes of Chinese Opera.
The house lights go down as the stage lights slowly fade up, revealing a huge golden yellow backdrop of satin embroidered with elegant brocade detail. The Monkey King has begun.
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