On the plane flight in we'd read that a traditional Chinese breakfast consisted of fried pork or beef, dumplings, and beer. We walked downstairs that first morning expecting the worst, but with amazement we saw "American Breakfast" on the menu. 2 fried eggs, 2 slices of white bread, instant coffee, and a glass of Tang. Not exactly Martha Stewart, but it sure beat fried pork and beer.

Our plan was to tour the Forbidden City, so we flagged down a taxi (Y10 or $1.50 for almost anywhere in the city) and had him drop us off at the gate. We jumped out into a teaming mob of Chinese tourists.

I had always thought of the Chinese as poor, downtrodden Communists. I pictured rows of people in blue shirts and slippers shuffling along with bent heads, stewing over mistakes they had made in the Cultural Revolution and wondering where they could scrape together a bowl of rice for dinner. I thought that if they had any fashion at all it would be the cheap, overly-makeup'd look of Russian women.

I was dead wrong. All around me were fashionably dressed people, trim and pressed. At worst, some looked like Midwestern junior-high boys on a Sunday morning -- ill fitting dress pants and a button-down shirt coming un tucked in back. Most were far more stylish and better dressed than I ever am, though I guess that's not saying much.

We bought our admission tickets, picked up our headphones for the audio tour (narrated by 007 himself, Roger Moore) and headed through the front gate. The word to describe the Forbidden City is IMMENSE. It's a walled compound right in the heart of Beijing. Inside are hundreds of temples, living quarters, banquet halls, and all the other buildings that an emporer and his eunuchs used to rule China for the last thousand years or so. As you wander from the South Gate towards the north, you move from what were the more public areas into the emperor and empress' private living areas. First you walk through great courtyards where the noblemen were received, then a hall where he met his ministers, then another and another. It's like lining up 6 or 7 Versailles in a row, separated by courtyards. Running the entire length of the complex is a marble walkway that only the emperor could walk on.

Eventually you reach the living quarters which have a slightly cozier feel. My favorite section, in fact, wasn't the gigantic temples and gates but rather the small gardens that lay in the north. The gardens are laid through a series of connecting courtyards and are filled with winding stone paths, small trees, sculpted rock formations, and small gazebos.

Eventually, Roger Moore's silky voice announced that we'd reached the last stop on our tour, but Sarah and I continued exploring some of the side buildings and courtyards, which were just as interesting as the main structures down the middle.

Our first glimpse of the Forbidden City had been back in Seattle, when we rented "The Last Emperor." Great movie, but a few things were misleading. In the first part of the movie you see the palace as it used to be, staffed by thousands of servants and filled with priceless treasures. Unfortunately, when Chiang Kaishek fled to Taiwan he helped himself to most of the furnishings and riches, so today the Forbidden City is startlingly empty. The Grand Reception halls are beautiful buildings, but inside they've just put a few antiques brought in from elsewhere in China.

At the end of "The Last Emperor" you see the aged emperor, now just an everyday comrade, pay an entrance fee like every other tourist to go back and check out his old home from decades past. The old man enters the palace and walks up to his throne in the middle of complex. Then -- and this is the funny part -- he quietly slips away from the crowd and walks up to his throne. To find the humor in this, you might just need to experience the bone crushing mass of humanity in person. In the side buildings you may find some breathing room, but anywhere near the main sites you are jostled and elbowed and herded like a long-haired teenager at a general admission Metallica concert.

Making matters worse, we toured it on a national holiday, a day when (as the TV announcer happily announced later) they sole "well more than the 50,000 tickets they're usually allowed to sell." Almost worse than the crowds was the crowd control. Old ladies in stern uniforms shouted into megaphones at point blank range. You'd be stuck in a mob of bodies, and then inches from your ear would be the screeching blare of high-pitched Chinese woman yelling at you.

None of the crowds, however, even came close to the shame I felt on behalf of America when we rounded a corner and saw, in the heart of the complex right at the base of the imperial palace, that familiar green and white logo. A Starbucks.

We'd already seen US franchises all over Beijing, not just McDonald's but KFC, A&W, Kinkos, TGIFridays, 7-11, Dairy Queen, Baskin Robbins. Understand, though, that the Forbidden City is sacred ground to the Chinese. It's a place that until recently most people weren't even allowed to see. I felt dirty, like I'd seen a condom shop in the Vatican.