Monkey Business

by James Edmonds

There are few things more satisfying than seeing something really disgusting in a safe and culturally respectable environment.

The Beijing Natural History Museum thus offers as much value for money as any attraction in town. It combines an educational experience with a stomach-churning horror show and a strong dose of sick humor. And at the end of it all, you can buy an ice cream and sit next to a rubber dinosaur. What more could anyone want?

The visit begins quietly enough in the aquarium, the only oddity being the improbable size of the catfish gliding to and fro in the first tank. As you penetrate farther into the exhibition, however, a curious odor fills the air. While slightly sickly, the scent seems no big deal until its source comes into view. Whereas most of the aquarium is devoted to living creatures, one room has been set aside for two gigantic carcasses. These mutant aquatic monsters hang suspended in cloudy formaldehyde like some putrid piece of avant-garde art. Transporting them from their former home in Heilongjiang had clearly taken some time, and the rot had set in before they were preserved for posterity. Damien Hirst's shark looks pretty tame by comparison.

Hanging on grimly to my lunch, I fled upstairs to where the dead things aren't quite so smelly.

One of the advantages of natural history museums is that the exhibits are so cooperative. Have you ever been frustrated by the pandas at the zoo? You go all that way, pay good money to get in, and then the cuddly black-and-white darlings won't come out to play. They're in a bad mood and just want to stay in their house and sulk.

No need to worry at the Beijing Natural History Museum - these pandas aren't going anywhere. You can enjoy their glassy stares and lifelike postures to your heart's content, or admire the rapidly vanishing Manchurian Tiger, frozen in a powerful stride across a re-creation of its natural wilderness. A row of stuffed primates demonstrates the miracle of human evolution, while representatives of nature's supreme achievement giggle tastelessly at the sight of Pan Troglodytes Blumenbach (a chimp to you and me) obligingly holding up his own name card.

On the ground floor, the murky light and fusty atmosphere create a truly unusual ambience. Fish are stuffed into specimen jars two sizes too small, and many of the mammals look about as healthy as Chairman Mao in his mausoleum. The semi-decayed state of the square-toed jumping rat makes it look even more alarming than it would have in real life.

Upstairs in the anthropology hall, however, cleaner windows and shinier floors brighten things up. Visitors are greeted by an amazing piece of prehistoric socialist realism - a group of life-size bronze Neanderthals ape the inspiring style of the heroic workers, peasants and soldiers of a thousand municipal sculptures. At their head stands a Model Hunter, brandishing his dinner like a red flag.

The rest of the room doesn't quite match the Žlan of this opening exhibit, giving a fairly sedate lesson on human history and evolution, particularly in China. No one could possibly guess what awaits on the next floor.

In 17th century Britain, it was the custom of some people to take their children to the mortuary, the idea being that it was healthy to gain an understanding and appreciation of the meaning of death at an early age. Perhaps a similar philosophy inspired the museum's directors to install three full human cadavers in a room at the top of the building. It certainly seemed to be a winner with the kids, who were keenly studying the insides of a corpse whose stomach had been helpfully removed.

Around the walls, further ghoulish items were arranged with the apparent intention of persuading visitors to adopt a no-child policy. Vivid photos of diseased sexual organs, big-breasted hermaphrodites and deformed foetuses in jars were all the subject of horrified fascination. On a stage to the left of the entrance, a particularly jaunty skeleton, who looked as if he'd died while executing a scene from "Top Hat," was surrounded by various pickled body parts. Adult opinions were divided: "I prefer the fish," said one.

"A little kid showed me a baby with one eye," enthused another.

Whatever your reaction is likely to be, this room is probably best not left until last on your itinerary. I returned gratefully to the bowels of the building, where clapped-out video games and put-your-face-on-a-hundred-dollar-bill machines compete vainly for attention next to the fabulous new "Dinosaur World."

At first sight, it looks a little disappointing, but first impressions are deceptive. These are not just ordinary model dinosaurs; these model dinosaurs move and talk. As you approach, the carnivorous Yangchuanosaurus cranks to life, issuing a bloodcurdling roar in the general direction of a peaceable Mamenchisaurus, at which the long-necked vegetarian whirrs its head up and down slightly and says, "Help, help, this dinosaur wants me for his lunch. Thank you for coming. You have saved my life." I'm not telling you what happens next, because I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I can reveal that the exhibition climaxes with an animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex that roars as it shakes its latest kill in its jaws, while the next course wriggles helplessly beneath its foot. Dinosaur World is great light relief after all the dead bodies.

I emerged blinking into the daylight, a wiser, better person. A superfluous dinosaur standing in the bushes was patiently doing battle with a six-year-old's new toy Godzilla while his parents sat on a nearby bench, wondering if they'd done the right thing.

Beijing Natural History Museum(bei jing zi ran bo wu guan)

Time: 8:30 - 17:30 daily

Admission: 30yuan (adult)

Address: 126 Tianqiao Nandajie (directly south of Qianmen), Beijing