So, this week I've been working in Beijing. I've not had access to Twitter or Facebook or even this blog, thanks to the Great Firewall so I've collected some random impressions here; apologies in advance if this entry is a bit scattered and unfocused.
I learned quite early on in the trip that the Chinese have a flexible and somewhat creative approach to queuing. Just because there's only one person ahead of you, don't make the mistake of assuming you're close to the head of the queue. Before you know it, twenty people will appear, offering exuberant greetings to the person in front of you, who will welcome them warmly into the queue. There's nothing you can do to stop it and complaining will get you nowhere - just grin and bear it.
Beijing Airport is the very definition of chaotic. Always assuming your hotel remembers to send a car for you (mine didn't) it's just going to be one of a thousand pick-ups, so seeing your name in a veritable forest of signs is tricky. In the absence of the car, I had to get a taxi. Getting a taxi at the airport is actually pretty easy; getting the taxi to take you to where you want to go is harder.
If you plan to use a taxi in China, there are a couple of things you must do. Firstly, make sure you have the name and address of your destination written down, in Chinese - this is vital. Your driver won't speak or read English. Secondly, it's very helpful to print off a map showing your destination because the odds are, the taxi driver won't know where it is, so any clues you can give him will save you time in the long run. While lacking a sense of direction, your driver will possess the driving skills (and fighting spirit) of Mad Max. Sit back and if not exactly relax, let him do his job.
Actually, outside of the airport, coming by a taxi in the first place is not as straightforward as you'd imagine. In Hong Kong, taxis are two a penny and hailing one pretty easy. In Beijing, it doesn't seem to be that easy at all. It took me an hour to get one - and that included standing at a taxi rank with six other people for half an hour while several empty taxis sped past, studiously ignoring us.
For the capital of a communist state, Beijing has a surprisingly liberal attitude to traffic rules, with drivers of vehicles of all types taking a fairly laissez fair approach to lanes, traffic lights and one-way signs. Technically they drive on the right but, again, that's more of a guideline than a rule. This can be rather disconcerting until you realise that, fifteen years ago, many people now driving a car were riding a bicycle - the behaviours have just carried over from one mode of transport to the other.
There are still a lot of bikes (I didn't see nine million but there could've been) and a lot of scooters, including the one I saw on its side, wedged under the front of a 4x4 in the middle of a junction. How more people aren't hurt on Beijing's roads I'll never know, given the general free-for-all nature of the traffic.
Once I got there (after abandoning my taxi in a five-lane traffic jam two kilometres long), Tiananmen Square is really, really big and is really, really full of people - at least, it was the other evening when I went. It's hard to convey size - how do I describe a vast space, bounded on three sides by vast buildings and on the fourth by the vast Forbidden City, in a way that communicates the sheer scale and, well, vastness of the thing? Everything in Beijing is on a pretty massive - and massively intimidating - scale. The roads are wide, the pavements are wide, the grounds of the buildings are wide and the buildings themselves are huge but alongside this, just a mile down the road, are tiny ramshackle shops and stalls, narrow streets and small buildings - in Beijing, even the extremes are huge.
I did the usual tourist stuff - took my picture with Mao, of course - but it was an odd experience. I thought there'd be more foreign tourists there but instead I was one of the few westerners around. Consequently, loads of people came up and said hello, asked where I was from, wanted to chat. Now I'm a pretty open and friendly guy but I didn't know their intention in doing this - did they just want to practice their English? Were they just being friendly and welcoming? Were they just curious? Or was there some other, darker purpose?
In situations like that, I get really uncomfortable and conflicted. My natural inclination is to say hello back - ask Mr L and he'll tell you the number of times I ended up chatting to prostitutes in Shanghai purely because when someone says hello to me, I automatically want to be polite and reply. But it's a big city and I don't know the rules and it's possible that some people aren't just being friendly. It made me sad that I couldn't just chat and so I went back to the hotel wishing that I hadn't ventured out.
On the second evening, I went out the the shopping mall next to the hotel, just to have a look around. It was an impressive place, full of Prada, Gucci, Boss and Armani but oddly devoid of customers. Mostly, the place was full of bored shop assistants, just like several brand-new Malls I saw in Shanghai. Now I know that China's economy is supposed to be booming and I'm taking advantage of that - I have work booked through to December - but I swear to god I can't see what's holding it up!
Now I'm back in Hong Kong which, for all its size, feels nice and cozy. I liked Beijing and I'm hoping to spend a bit more time there on my next visit but I guess it's true what they say: wherever you wander, there's no place like home...
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