今天是京城晴朗的一天，我觉得没有比在胡同里流窜——就像都市中的远足——更好的事可做了。我们从新街口出发，蜿蜒穿过四环市场，绕过后海，顺鼓楼东街而下（在那里的阿米哥饭店吃了卷饼），然后又沿着交道口南下到达国家艺术馆，又继续向南……就是在那里我们这次春游开始有意思了。
可能出于天真，我因为上个星期日没有出现抗议行动、那天铺天盖地的保安措施不过是为一个不存在的问题吸引了更多的注意力就假设这个星期天会相对平静。不过会碰上几个警察、一些红袖章，但更多的会只是与“两会”有关的无事生非，但不会有像上星期天在王府井那里出现的扫街车和扫帚把殴打的闹剧。
是的，我失算了。
就在教堂的北边，我们以假装“傻老外”的手段混过了第一道关口。反正多数警察都认为外国人是傻瓜，这并不很难。不过几句“警官先生，我们什么都不知道，我们只是想看看教堂”，我们就通过了……但很快就在步行街北边被一群保安拦下（至少有二三十位便衣）。逛街的中国人来往不断，不受干扰。但不过一分钟之内我们就被拽到一旁被警察包围起来，他们要求查看我们的证件和护照，询问我们是什么人，去哪里，我们是喜欢贾斯丁·比伯的音乐还是他的头发等等等等……通常的警察狗屎问题。
其实，你不得不同情这些可怜的混蛋。我们问他们为什么我们不能继续向前走。他们知道为什么，他们知道我们知道为什么，他们知道我们知道他们知道为什么，……但他们不能说为什么。他们只能坚持“不方便”的说法。他们越来越生气，我们也难以继续保持傻样。
“明天再来吧。”
“今天有什么事情吗？”
“今天没事。明天再来吧。”
“今天不行？”
“不行，不方便。”
“为什么？”
“因为明天更方便。”
就在这个哑谜进行过程中，一些路过的中国人停下来聚集起来观看警察和外国人用中文吵架。他们开始问警察为什么外国人不能通过……这样就结束了这里的一切。
从这个检查点的所在我们可以看到前面的步行街，里面像上个星期一样有一些扫街车和拿着扫把的人。
我们的“谈话”继续进行了2分钟之后就很清楚我们不可能再往前走了。他们强迫我们穿过街道往西边的紫禁城方向去。
我们走过紫禁城东门然后转弯向南从天安门出来，自然地认为会在这里遇到更多的警察干扰。但却没有……我们越接近人民大会堂，看到的警察越少。
我们觉得这大概就是那么回事了，于是就沿着长安街往东走。即使是在中南海的前门也只有惯常的几个武装警察和一些穿便服的人，一点也没有异常迹象……
然后我们就到了西单。
即使是天真的我也觉得王府井可能是有麻烦的地方，但西单是一个“后备地点”。我觉得……你总是会用最好的球员防守勒布朗·詹姆斯而不是麦克·毕比。
可是就在距离那个市区还有两个街口时，一群警察从50米开外跑过来堵住了我们。
“你们不能去西单。”
“为什么？”
“因为不方便。”
当然，即使是这样的谈话都很困难，我们四周有大量的中国人，他们都在往西单走。
“他们能去，我们为什么不能去？”
“根据有关规定，你们不能去。”
“我就是要去阿森纳商店也不行吗？”
“不行。”
“难道你是热刺的球迷？”
就在这又一场与混乱的力量进行的卡夫卡式谈话中，我的朋友提到我们并不是要去西单，我们的目的地其实是西单东面300米处的有名的民族饭店。
“哦，民族饭店。你要去那里？”
“是的。”
“那可以，直着走，不要在西单停。”
问题解决了。但过了一个街区我们就碰上了一个巨大的警察警戒线，其中三个人在为我们录像。
“你们去哪？”
“民族饭店？”
（向对讲机说话。）
头走了过来。毫不夸张，他全身穿着完全像老虎伍兹：耐克毛衣、墨镜、耐克帽子。他打量着我们，又问了一些寻常的问题然后与他两个穿制服的随从聚在一起商讨。
无论如何，这位老人还是让我们通过了。他的注意力转向训斥一位背着硕大背包的外国旅游者。那个可怜的家伙大概正纳闷他那本《因此我旅行》是怎么和为什么把他带进这么可怕的境地。
多想了几步，我们问道：
“你能告诉他们我们是去民族饭店，别总是挡我们的路吗？”
（向对讲机说话。）
“没问题。”
这好像很管用。我们又走了一个街区，现在我们到了那里的广场。广场被一些上星期在王府井的麦当劳商店门口出过风头的蓝色施工篷布围着。一些警察试图拦阻我们，但他们的对讲机响了起来，我们听到民族饭店的字眼，然后他们就退下去了。
我们觉得“民族饭店”已经成为一些符咒的神秘回归。
不过当我们走过西单来到一段比较安静的街道时，我们注意到我们不仅被录像，而且还被人步行跟踪。还有一辆警车慢慢地跟着我们，随走随停。这令我们很紧张，我们在民族饭店门口停了一会儿，好像我们真的要进那里去一样。
其实从那里我们已经又拐弯向北了。很快我们就在星期天下午的金融区的空空荡荡中变得孤独。没有人，没有警察，只有平静的散步。
即使是在我们走过实际的中共中央楼房时——从现在的日历你会觉得那里会戒备森严——那里也是空空如也。千真万确。我们可以在那个停车场进行一场飞盘比赛。只有两个人在看守那一大片所在。
对最近发起抗议活动的匿名号召的目的已经有很多猜测。这个星期芭芭拉·德米克认为这件事就是一场让中国安全部门疲于奔命的精心骗局。
我不认为那是原来的初衷，但在头两次“抗议”都没有成功出现后，一惊一咋地看警察跳脚也成为一场新游戏。
今天警察显然高度戒备着，政府在没有什么真正值得它害怕的威胁时的反应也正漫出出受惊的猫撒出的尿的骚味。
我们得看下一个星期天会发生什么。
A Sunday stroll with the forces of (in)security
Today being a beautiful day in the ‘jing, I thought of nothing better than a long hutong ramble, a bit of urban hiking if you will. We started at Xinjiekou, wormed our way through the Sihuan wet market, around Houhai,* down Gulou Dongdajie (stopping for burritos at Amigos), and then south along Jiaodaokou to the National Museum of Art, and then further south still…and that’s where our springtime stroll turned interesting.
I had — perhaps naively — assumed that since no protests materialized last Sunday, and the overwhelming security response had brought so much attention to a non-issue, that this Sunday would be comparatively mellow. A few cops, some red armbands, but mostly just NPC bullshit and nothing like the street sweepers and broom beaters of last Sunday’s debacle on Wangfujing.
Yep, I was wrong.
We made it past the first checkpoint, just north of the cathedral, by putting on the ‘dumb laowai’ act. Since most cops assume foreigners are idiots anyway, this ruse is not too hard to pull off. After a few “We don’t know anything we just want to look at the church, Mr. Police Officer” lines, we were through…only to be stopped just north of the pedestrian mall by a literal phalanx of security forces (at least 20-30 plus plainclothes). Chinese shoppers were coming and going at will, but within a minute we were pulled aside and surrounded by police officers, asking for our identification and passports, and who we were, and where we were going, and did we like Justin Bieber’s music or was it just his hair…usual cop shit.
On one hand, you had to feel for the poor bastards. We asked them why we couldn’t go forward and they knew why, and they knew we knew why, and they knew that we knew they knew why…but they couldn’t say why. They had to stick to the “it’s not convenient” line as they grew more and more pissed and we were having trouble keeping straight faces.
“Come back tomorrow.”
“Is there something going on today?”
“Nothing going on today. Just come back tomorrow.”
“Not today?”
“No. It’s not convenient.”
“Why”
“Because tomorrow is more convenient.”
As this charade was being played out — and as would happen a little while later by Xidan — several Chinese passers-by stopped to gather around and watch the cops and the foreigners arguing in Chinese, and when they started asking the cops why the foreigners couldn’t go through…well, that was the end of that.
Our ‘conversation’ lasted another two minutes before it was clear that we were not going any further. They forced us to cross the road and head west towards the Forbidden City.
Going through the Forbidden City East Gate and then turning south and out Tiananmen, we naturally assumed we’d run into more police interference, but no…the closer we got to the Hall of the People the fewer cops we saw.
Thinking that was it, we walked east along Chang’an Dajie. Even in front of Zhongnanhai there was the usual contingent of PAP and a few plainclothes guys but nothing out of the ordinary…and then we hit Xidan.
Even in my naivete, I had a hunch that Wangfujing might be problematic, but Xidan was a “back up location.” I mean…you bring your big guns out to guard Lebron, not Mike Bibby.
But about two blocks east of the shopping area, a group of cops made us from 50 meters out and gathered us in.
“You can’t go to Xidan.”
“Why?”
“Because it is not convenient.”
Of course, even having this conversation was difficult because we were caught in a massive crush of Chinese people, all of whom were headed to Xidan.
“They can go, why not us?”
“According to relevant regulations, you cannot go.”
“What if I want to go to the Arsenal store?”
“You cannot.”
“A Spurs fan, eh?”
In the middle of yet another Kafka-esque conversation with the forces of disorder, my friend mentioned that we didn’t want to go to Xidan, our final destination was actually the famous Minzu Fandian, located about 300 meters east of Xidan.
“Oh, Minzu Fandian. You want to go there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, go straight. But don’t stop at Xidan.”
Problem solved for at least one block until we ran into a huge cordon of cops, three of whom were filming us.
“Where are you going?”
“Minzu Fandian?”
(Talks into radio.)
Now, the boss comes over. He was dressed — I am not making this up — exactly like Tiger Woods: Nike sweater, shades, Nike hat. He looks us over, asks the usual questions and then huddles with the two uniform guys who are his minions.
For what it’s worth, the old guy did let us pass, focusing his attention instead on berating some poor foreign tourist with a huge backpack who was probably wondering why and how Lonely Planet had steered him so horribly wrong.
Thinking ahead, we asked:
“Can you tell them we’re going to the Minzu Fandian so they don’t keep stopping us?”
(Talks into radio.)
“No problem.”
This seemed to work. We walked another block, now we’re in front of the actual square, which had been cordoned off with the blue construction tarp made famous last week outside the Wangfujing McDonald’s. More cops try to stop us, but their radios crackle, we hear the words Minzu Fandian, and they break off.
Now we’re thinking that “Minzu Fandian” is a kind of mystical incantation like “confundo,” “You shall not pass,” “These are not the droids you’re looking for,” or “Two tequila slammers and the check.”
But as we walk past Xidan and onto the quieter section of the street, we notice that not only are we being filmed and followed on foot, there was a police van slowly shadowing us, stopping when we do, going when we go. This is unnerving enough that we hunkered down for a moment outside the Minzu Fandian as if we actually meant to go inside.
By that point though we could turn north again, and soon we were alone in the desolation of the Financial District on a Sunday afternoon. No people. No cops. Just a peaceful stroll.
Even when we walked past the actual CPPCC building — which, you know given the calendar, you would think might have a security presence — there was nothing. Seriously. We could have played a game of ultimate in their parking lot. Two guys were watching the whole place.
There have been a lot of theories recently about just what these anonymous calls for protest want to accomplish. Barbara Demick argued this week that the whole thing is an elaborate ruse to burn out the Chinese security response.
I don’t think that was the intention originally, but when the first two “protests” failed to materialize, then the idea of making the cops jump every time somebody online posted the word “hop” has become a game unto itself.
Certainly today, the cops were on high alert, and the government response is starting to take on the cat-piss stench of fear when in reality it has little to be afraid of.
We’ll have to see what next Sunday brings.
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