Beijing Aquarium is a relaxing place to enjoy submarine life without even getting wet.

The aquarium is actually located on the campus of the Beijing Zoo, so after buying your entry ticket to the main complex, beeline like a flying fish for the aquarium. I think the average aquatic wildlife fan can get their money's worth with around 2.5 hours spent with the fishes, unlike Luca Brasi. Then, the rest of your day you can spend with your fellow landlubbers, admiring the birds, bears, boas and boars … and the rest of the Ark survivors … at the zoo proper.

There are simply so many regularly scheduled shows at the aquarium, that if I were to spell out all the events and timings here, my column's allotted length would be kaput faster than a guppy getting too close to a lantern fish.

Many of the shows are worth a garfish gander. At last count I believe there were seven which involve, in no particular order — big fish feedings, procession of well-choreographed youth beside a massive tank of deep-sea critters, daring divers hand-feeding dangerous-looking marine life, a lionfish feeding frenzy, mermaids serenading rays, dolphin/beluga/orca/seal/sea lion feats of finesse, and, if you're lucky, a tank-side seat to a couple exchanging vows of holy matrimony amid the starfish and nurse sharks.

One advantage the aquarium has over the zoo is that the former is mainly indoors, and well air-conditioned. But that leaves the hot afternoon to go sun yourself with the crocs at the big reptile pond.

Another benefit the aquarium has is that with so many shows to choose from, when you need a break from the walking, all the performances provide ample seating to rest.

Admittedly, I haven't been able to get a selfie with the shellfish since before the pandemic, so I am hankering for a redo.

Watching nature's diversity of marine life can be a very soothing elixir to calm a restive urban psyche. Standing beside the main tank as giant manta rays, stingrays, dangerous sharks and iron-gripped octopi glide silently and effortlessly past is a restorative way to spend a half day, as their movements are truly poetry in motion. Of course having full confidence that the glass is sufficiently thick adds to the overall serenity.

Speaking of poetry, the Chinese ancients didn't have much in the way of modern aquariums, and most poems about fish were either admiring carp in palatial gardens, or dropping a hook in a stream and trying your angling luck. But here's one that's right to the point, and easy to commit to memory, written during the Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD).

Jiangnan (South of the River)

South of the river, you can pick lotuses,

How like a field are lotus leaves!

Fish play in lotus leaves:

Fish play east of lotus leaves,

Fish play west of lotus leaves,

Fish play south of lotus leaves,

Fish play north of lotus leaves.

Beijing Aquarium is located at B 18 Gaoliangqiao Xiejie, Haidian district. Entry is 175 yuan ($24.4) for adults and 87 yuan for students above 1.2 meters but under 18. Summer opening times are from 9 am to 5 pm.