The first week in Beijing has been interesting if not a little unsettling. Anytime you find yourself plonked in a unusual part of the world, you need to allow for some significant alterations to your day to day reality. Simple, basic things like a new bed. The king-sized bed in my room at the Century Towers in the Chaoyang District of Beijing is great, if not a little hard. This would explain my grazed knees and elbows after a fitful first night of tossing and turning. This was not helped by an air-conditioning unit that has two settings; 42 degrees and off. I opted for 'off' and felt almost Scandinavian with a healthy norwester blowing through the open balcony window.
But I awoke to clear blue skies, something I'd been led to believe did not exist in Beijing. In fact, the first 48 hours could be classified as 'beautiful'. Little did I know that my first day and a half in Beijing would be the only 'free' time I would get in the next 9 days. And within 48 hours of my arrival the rains came and the temperature dropped dramatically. I know it was cold as I usually guage how chilly it is by the number of times I say 'fuck' between my morning shower and getting dressed. So while the sun was out and before I started each day with a few dozen expletives, together with fellow "B-Team" members, Olly and Kristen, I set off to explore my strange new world.
After a wander around the lakes in the Shichahai district (above), and the mandatory stop-off in a bar to watch a Socceroos match (against China) we weaved our way through Jingshan Park (great views of this mega-metropolis) to Tiannamen Square. Each day, at sunrise and sunset, a flag ceremony is performed by Chinese soldiers in a ritual that seems to attract the attention of Beijing locals more than the tourists. After milling around among the increasing number of eager-beaver locals, a regiment of soldiers left the main building and stomped their way with immaculate precision to the flag pole, only momentarily disrupted by a sole Tibetan, waving a small flag in protest. He was quickly set upon by six soldiers. In true foreign correspondent style I whipped out my camera, but then thought better of it, considering my life a tad more important than a possible Press Photo of the Year award. Poor chap, probably dead now.
By the next afternoon we found ourselves at BOCOG headquarters, where we were to remain in solitary confinement for the next week, getting our collective heads around our plan to succesfully stage an Olympic Games. 132 days and counting.
I'll spare you the work detail, suffice to say we managed to find wee windows of opportunity to eat and sleep. Our second evening was spent dining in a traditional Spanish Tapas restaurant, called Mare. Our hosts were Kristen's cousin and ex-pat Beijinger, Tom and his lovely fiance, Ivy. Tom, who has been part of Beijing in one way or another for the past decade, has proven invaluable with his knowledge of the city and his incredibly fluent and 'shooshy' Mandarin.
Other notable vignettes of Beijing in this somewhat turbulent first week:
But I awoke to clear blue skies, something I'd been led to believe did not exist in Beijing. In fact, the first 48 hours could be classified as 'beautiful'. Little did I know that my first day and a half in Beijing would be the only 'free' time I would get in the next 9 days. And within 48 hours of my arrival the rains came and the temperature dropped dramatically. I know it was cold as I usually guage how chilly it is by the number of times I say 'fuck' between my morning shower and getting dressed. So while the sun was out and before I started each day with a few dozen expletives, together with fellow "B-Team" members, Olly and Kristen, I set off to explore my strange new world.
After a wander around the lakes in the Shichahai district (above), and the mandatory stop-off in a bar to watch a Socceroos match (against China) we weaved our way through Jingshan Park (great views of this mega-metropolis) to Tiannamen Square. Each day, at sunrise and sunset, a flag ceremony is performed by Chinese soldiers in a ritual that seems to attract the attention of Beijing locals more than the tourists. After milling around among the increasing number of eager-beaver locals, a regiment of soldiers left the main building and stomped their way with immaculate precision to the flag pole, only momentarily disrupted by a sole Tibetan, waving a small flag in protest. He was quickly set upon by six soldiers. In true foreign correspondent style I whipped out my camera, but then thought better of it, considering my life a tad more important than a possible Press Photo of the Year award. Poor chap, probably dead now.
By the next afternoon we found ourselves at BOCOG headquarters, where we were to remain in solitary confinement for the next week, getting our collective heads around our plan to succesfully stage an Olympic Games. 132 days and counting.
I'll spare you the work detail, suffice to say we managed to find wee windows of opportunity to eat and sleep. Our second evening was spent dining in a traditional Spanish Tapas restaurant, called Mare. Our hosts were Kristen's cousin and ex-pat Beijinger, Tom and his lovely fiance, Ivy. Tom, who has been part of Beijing in one way or another for the past decade, has proven invaluable with his knowledge of the city and his incredibly fluent and 'shooshy' Mandarin.
Other notable vignettes of Beijing in this somewhat turbulent first week:
- Couples dancing on a dimly lit footpath near Worker's Stadium, a group of fifty or so over 50's foxtrotting and waltzing their hearts out to a dodgy mini PA in the dark
- The largest pizza I've ever seen (it was a 'medium') at the Kro's Nest, to farewell a mate, Big Al, as he sets of to do 2,364 countries in a few weeks as part of the Olympic Torch Relay
- Breakfast at Shin Kong Place department store (complete with a reasonably good coffee) Searching for an apartment with a six-person strong entourage (very rock n' roll)
- Being disgusted at how Starbuck's and KFC are housed amid the traditional Beijing architecture, and;
- Counting the hours spent peering out of the rear window of a dozen taxi cabs (18.5 hours)
One of the most notable aspects of life here is the incredible amount of traffic. Not surprising when you tally up a population close to 18 million. The cars seem to be in a constant state of suspended animation. Crawling and beeping. Beeping and crawling. A Formula 1 race at 15kph. A journey that would take 20 minutes in most cities is chewing up a good hour and a half in Beijing. The monotony broken by laptop DVDs in the back seat.
Yesterday I woke to unbelievable smog. The cab to work seemed to be driving through one enormous storm cloud, the buildings of Beijing passed by eerily popping out of the gloom like gigantic, silent monsters. The acrid smog, burning the back of my throat, was utterly abysmal; the worst I have ever seen. Today it was worse.
With the endless chinglish, amusing to say the least, and unnervingly high doses of static electricty (you get a shock touching just about anything) Beijing is slowly starting to feel normal.
But it's the little things you miss, like toilet paper that tears along the perforation! Grrrr...
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