| Part One
There was no mistaking our
location: we were still in an airport. Cars were rushing in to stop,
pick up people waiting with their luggage, while
other people hailed cabs or walked across to a parking garage. Most
people, though, including us, moved toward several buses that were
clogging a parking area adjacent to the road. After paying ¥16
($1.94USD) for all three tickets, we found number 12, and went
aboard this rapidly filling, swanky coach. Shortly, the bus pulled
out onto the Capitol Airport Expressway, going toward the Capital,
Beijing.
Again, I saw roadsigns in both Chinese and English.
We couldn't get enough of seeing this country, knowing
that we were in the land of the world's single greatest population.
We didn't see too many people, but an attractive green rolling
landscape of vegetation pocked by new construction which seemed
quite manual-labor intensive, much like what I've seen in
less-developed countries—bricks drying in the Sun; long, deep
trenches being hand-dug, and people carrying large bundles upon
their backs. At the same time, we were in a first-class motorcoach
on a divided roadway that easily equaled and even exceeded
interstates back home.
Indeed, as we neared Beijing, the amount of traffic was
also remarkably similar, with lots of motor vehicles belching black
exhaust. Passing one of the few gas stations we'd seen, Enrique made
a quick calculation and stated, “They're paying about one
twenty-five per gallon here.” Katarena chimed in with “That is so
cheap!”
“China is an up-and-coming nation,” I told them, “and
they have nearly a fifth of the world's population living here. They
are no different from anybody else on the face of the Earth, they
want the good life, too, which means progress. That means they want
a high standard of living, which includes a car. Think of all the
places we've been so far; only the Netherlands, Switzerland, and
Venice didn't have motor vehicles all over.”
As our bus slowly moved through the heavy traffic
Southwest into the city on this superb roadway, the green lushness
was replaced with a cityscape of rampant growth. Gone were the
scenes of pastoral construction from earlier, and now heavy
machinery, cranes, along with properly uniformed hordes of workers
scrambled around worksites. Our bus began to lurch, as if the driver
was just learning how to drive with a clutch, while we crossed the
fourth and third ring roads of Dongsihuan and Dongsanhuan, merging
into the broad avenue of Dongzhimenwai Xie Jie.
It was absolutely chaotic: cars darting while trucks and
buses lumbered in generally the same direction on the road, a
sidewalk separating a smaller lane which appeared to be reserved for
bicycles, pedicabs, taxis, plus a few other vehicles wishing to
avoid the often snail-pace on the adjacent motor route. It made Rome
look almost peaceful! At Dongzhimenwai Street, our bus
entered upon another the second ring road for a few miles before
leaving it to move along a slightly less chaotic Chang'an Jie. It
was actually orderly, and it became apparent that this was the
street, as we passed between Tian'anmen Square and Tian'anmen
Gate, with the huge portrait of Chairman Mao, ironically dividing
the road between “East” and “West”. Our bus finally stopped at the
telecommunications center, where we disembarked in a light rain. We
jogged to a McDonald's restaurant next door, and, thinking of lunch,
entered through the door.
Getting inside was a challenge. People were seemed to be
stalled on the stairway, and, once we had made it to the second
floor, humanity was tucked virtually everywhere. We pushed, as
politely as possible, to what appeared to be an empty table far back
on the streetside, and plopped our bags underneath. While Katarena
and Enrique returned to the swollen crowd in front of the cashiers
to order food, I thought I might be able to round-up a few chairs to
go with our vacant table. I should not have been surprised to see
the chairs appear, along with occupants, who apparently made
excellent use of them--not only did it make the table useless for
us, but also made it easier for them to sit and wait for
their food. I didn't squabble about the table; they had the
chairs, and had sat down, shifting our bags to a vertical stack and
then leisurely enjoying their long awaited meal.
They knew to whom the bags belonged, and I think it was
a repeat of our Swift(less) Ferryboat from Dublin to Holyhead:
“Sorry, mate, but satchels don't mean the same as bodies.” It was
obvious to me that they knew the only other two well-traveled
gringos belonged to me, who had just started to wait to order food.
They knew they had ample time to finish their own meal before
relinquishing the table to us. They knew, all right, and as soon as
my children arrived with lunch, they vacated, giving us the table
and both chairs. I still stood, half-sitting on the window sill as
rain slowly moved down the glass.
We ate our small sandwiches and, as soon as we rose with
our packs, another pair descended upon our table with the same
eagerness as we had. We slowly pushed our way through the crowd and
down the stairs, out into the light rain. There, we were analyzing
our my transcribed hostel information, comparing it to our Lonely
Planet China guide, and not making much sense out of either. I
figured they may be too much out of date, but a woman approached us
and, in fluent English, explained that we had come in on an
“express” bus that didn't stop anywhere close to where we wanted to
go.
“However,” she explained, “this map (in LP China) is
accurate. You need to go back along Chang'an Jie to the subway, then
go to Dongsishitiao stop. From there you can take another bus to the
Great Dragon Hotel, and find your hostel. I can take you, no
problem.”
 Continue... |
