Friday afternoon we headed back to the university where I was determined to write my next journal entry, but our good fortune had just run out. First we were in a taxi that managed to collide into a motorcycle -- why this doesn't happen more often is a wonder. No one was hurt, not even the motorcycle, but there were a great many words, and the taxi driver made us get out and pay up. Since we were along a highway it wasn't easy to get another taxi, and when a little red car pulled up (all taxis are red in Beijing) with a sign "car for hire" I didn't even think about the fact that it didn't say "taxi." We checked there was a working meter and got in, only to realize that this was not an official meter, and it was clicking away at a ridiculous rate, taking us the last two kilometers to our destination, the Summer Palace. When I realized this I got angry at the driver, told him this was no good, a no good meter, he was a bad man, and a not a taxi -- in Chinese I am not very articulate, but he got the point. He said we didn't have to pay the whole thing, just 20. We paid, 10, which should have been the price, but felt a little shaken when we got out. By this point Elene didn't want me to leave her at the Summer Palace while I went to the Internet CafÈ, so I decided it was more important for her to see China than for me to write in a journal; I am sure you understand.

Our non-taxi driver left us off on the far side of the Summer Palace, so instead of spending a relaxing hour strolling around a lake, we first had to climb to the top of a hill and then down the other side. No matter, the view from the top was spectacular, offering photo opportunities of temple gables with the Beijing skyline in the distance.

Friday night we again joined the economics professor for dinner, this time on the university campus. She had invited a young woman from the University of Illinois to join us. I was distressed to hear her seemingly perfect Chinese while I am still stumbling to remember the difference between upstairs and downstairs, but we had another fine meal, which the professor insisted on paying for -- I think it was a matter of pride to show that she could, so we accepted.

In the course of these two days we had decided to rethink our travel plan (which had been to go to Shanghai) and head to Harbin, the most northern provincial capital, in what was formerly Manchuria. Elene's mother had been born in Russia in 1910 -- not far from the Chinese border. In 1921 her family fled from the Russian Revolution and lived in Harbin. Her mother stayed here for 10 years and then came to the US for college. Her grandparents remained in Harbin under Japanese occupation, until their daughter gained US citizenship and was able to bring them to the US only months before Pearl Harbor.

So last night, we flew from Beijing to Harbin on a plane with only 15 passengers -- it probably held about 120 seats. We are staying at the Modern Hotel, which I picked because it was built in 1908, and would have been a prominent landmark in the 1920s. It was clearly once grand, and is making a valiant effort to stay afloat. I will fill you in on this part of our trip as soon as I can, but it may be a few days.