Blissed out in Beijing

I was game to try cupping and scraping, both ancient Chinese healing remedies said to stimulate the flow of energy (or chi) through the body, but the staff discouraged me (the skin bruising turns off most Westerners), suggesting I first observe the treatments before booking any. To begin his cupping session, The Peninsula’s Dr. Peter Zhang lit an alcohol-soaked cotton swab and poked it quickly in and out of a round glass cup, sucking out the oxygen to create a vacuum when he pressed the glass down firmly on his client’s back. Beneath the glass, the skin rose into a swollen round mass that soon turned red, a desired effect that means stagnant blood has been brought to the surface. After a few minutes, Dr. Zhang carefully slid the glass to another spot without losing the suction and then added three more cups on both sides of the spine, working the meridians on the back to clear blocked energy, increase blood circulation, lymph flow, and metabolism, and relieve muscle tension. Although the client clearly wasn’t in much pain, his back was covered with round purple bruises, which, I was told, usually disappear within four to seven days.

Scraping, a remedy with benefits similar to cupping, can be done on different parts of the body depending on the ailment. For about 20 minutes, Dr. Zhang scraped the pressure points on another patient’s back with a smooth piece of ox horn until he looked like he’d been flogged. I have to admit I lost my courage.

Hours later, once I had regained my adventurous spirit, I set off to explore another ancient healing method at Beijing’s largest medicine shop, Tong Ren Tang, which has been dispensing traditional remedies since 1669, though the practice in China dates back thousands of years. There I bought a few of the company’s best sellers: Black-Bone Chicken and White Phoenix pills, an invigorating, revitalizing remedy for women; Dog Skin Plaster for back pain; and Bone Strengthening Yellow Wine, which reportedly helps men “strengthen their kidneys,” a term I later learned meant “increase vigor.” Out of the question was a hunk of ginseng root for $2,000 — apparently some cures don’t come cheap at Beijing’s oldest pharmacy.

There are Tong Ren Tang shops all over Beijing, but the best is their enormous original store south of Tiananmen Square on Dashilan Street, where you can watch doctors in white coats scoop herbs, blossoms, seeds, berries, and minerals onto a large piece of paper from tiny drawers that line the wall from floor to ceiling. The ingredients and measurements are double-checked against the prescription by another doctor who bundles and labels the concoctions, which are typically imbibed as teas, soups, and herbal infusions.

In Chinese healing, herbs are classified by the four energies — cold, hot, warm, or cool. A cooling herb would be used to treat an illness of a hot nature and so on. Herbs are also categorized by the five tastes—sour, bitter, pungent, sweet, and salty, and these tastes have different effects on the organs and body functions. Only by understanding the capabilities of individual herbs did physicians learn the benefits of combining them. I wished I had time for a consultation with one of Tong Ren Tang’s physicians, but I had a doctor’s appointment at the St. Regis Hotel, Beijing.

“Sun damage, freckles, wrinkles around the eyes, face dry and a little flabby.” That was the brutal truth according to Dr. Li Ting’s diagnosis. A translator explained these facial flaws were caused by “high pressure of work, a lot of travel, insufficient sleep, and irregular daily life.” I certainly hoped that this Chinese herbal facial would give my face, if not my ego, a lift. Based on her evaluation of my skin, Dr. Li requested a selection of herbs that were quickly brought over from the Beijing Oriental Traditional Medical Science Clinic — rose for lightening my freckles and soothing the skin, angelica for skin whitening, Chinese wolfberry to make the skin more radiant and to brighten the eyes, chrysanthemum to reduce inflammation (puffy eyes) and balance the skin, cockscomb to diminish redness and enhance capillary function, and ginseng to nourish the skin and slow down the appearance of aging.

After cleansing my face, Dr. Li put the herbs into a steaming machine, and I drifted off to sleep while soaking in the prescriptive mist. Next, she blended a customized facial mask, using lavender, chamomile, angelica, licorice, chrysanthemum, root of red-rooted salvia, pearl powder, and water from the spa’s underground hot spring, a 5,000-foot-deep source for pure thermal water that feeds the spa’s pools and laces its treatments. While the creamy blue mask dried — so tight it felt like plaster of paris — Dr. Li massaged my neck and shoulders. The mask wiped off easily with hot washcloths, and when Dr. Li applied eye control cream and moisturizer, I felt red carpet ready even without lipstick. The translator said Dr. Li advised I get more sleep and drink more water but not before bedtime, which would cause swelling around the eyes in the morning. I should also steer clear of spicy food to avoid skin problems, eat an apple every day, and drink more fresh juice instead of coffee or Coke. As we said good-bye, Dr. Li said, “Keep good mood. Be happy every day.”

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