Beijing
I was a part of a huge flock of people, almost all Mandarin-speaking Chinese, returning to the homeland on a 14 hour direct flight from Toronto. There was a time in the not-to-distant past when it took months to travel to the Orient, but now, we can be transported from one side of the world to the other in mere hours. Over the Arctic, no less. In any other age, this would have been simply remarkable.
We represented the nomads of modern life. Some were pilgrims going back to celebrate the New Year with family. There were mothers tightly holding on to their babies. Curiously, there were also a handful of Caucasians in this sea of yellow people, perhaps feeling that they’ve arrived in China even before the plane had taken off.
I arrived in Beijing in the early afternoon. The air was clear and the wind only bitter when it was gusting. I noticed the billboards along the sides of the boulevards- of Chinese banks and development corporations, of cell phone and camera companies, and Western oddities like Kohler and Sports Illustrated.
My two suitcases made noise as I rolled them down the textured brick sidewalk. People largely kept to themselves- anonymous bicyclists and motorists shared the giant streets while pedestrians walked without the typical speed that usually accompanies urban life.
I’ve decided to remain here in the city for the next little while to find a place to stay, perhaps even a renovated hutong. Hutongs are old courtyard houses in the center of the city. While many are being erased to favor large, denser developments, some neighborhoods still have retained their distinct character. Hopefully, I can find one with affordable rent.
