I visited Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City yesterday, with Roger Moore as my pre-recorded guide. (He really didn't have much of interest to say, unfortunately.) After leaving the Palace, I wandered around to a beautiful little teahouse a stone's throw from the City's west gate, where I spent the afternoon and the rest of my day's budget drinking tea and eating bizarre little sesame and bean paste cakes.

The Forbidden City was even more impressive than I'd imagined. I wandered from one awe-inspiring hall to another, imagining the courtyards below filled with kowtowing officials. The entire city was built in 14 years, early in the 15th century, but because it was built entirely of lacquered wood, it has burned down and been rebuilt in the original style many times. The southern part, or Outer Court, is designed on a grand scale. The Emperor conducted official business here. The northern part, or Inner Court, is much more intimate, full of smaller halls and winding passages. This is where the Emperor, his wife, concubines and eunuchs lived. There's also a fantastic garden at the far northern end.

The teahouse was the kind of place you imagine spending an afternoon drinking tea in China. The small, low rosewood tables are separated from one another with beautiful wooden lattice work. The tea was served loose in the cup, and the waitress showed up periodically to refill a pot with hot water. Quiet, Chinese-style music plays over the sound of gurgling fountains, which only becomes disturbing when you realize that the music is actually elevator-music quality renditions of Western pop tunes (ranging from Simon & Garfunkel to John Lennon to Chariots of Fire) in a Chinese style.

I've started pretending to speak only French or Spanish when confronted with hawkers, pedicab drivers or "art students." I figure there's not much risk of running into anyone who speaks either language well enough to blow my cover. My favorite such enterprising locals were the two claiming to be a Chinese history teacher and his student who were appalled to learn that I'd never even heard of "the second Forbidden City," south of the original, but they kindly offered to show it to me. (I declined.) My least favorite were the art students who accosted Westerners in the Forbidden City about their art exhibit. (They were lingering outside the Starbucks there, which is actually one of many touristy stores inside the Forbidden City, none of which actively harass you about visiting them.)