Welcome to the first edition of my online travel journal. As you know, I have spent the past several months in Beijing, China. Since January 11 of this year, I have been studying abroad at Peking University, located a few miles northwest of China's capital city. I've been having a wonderful time, and I have finally written a few travel journal entries and short essays about my time in China. Please follow the links below to the site, all accessible through this new journal.

I'm quite excited to share my experiences thus far with you all, and hope to have a second edition written shortly after I return to the U.S. near the end of May.



Welcome to China - Day One in the Middle Kingdom
After a roughly twenty-three hour plane flight (with a layover in Tokyo), Michael Wagner stumbled off the Northwest flight into the dark of China. Slightly dazed from the lack of sleep, he was still excited as he left the plane, went through customs, and found his luggage. Will he survive the next four months away from America? (Spoiler: the answer is yes).

Playing Tourist - Jingshan Park, the Forbidden City, and Tiananmen Square
The first weekend consisted of a grand tour of Beijing's most scenic locations. Jingshan Park, perhaps most infamous for the site of the suicide of an emperor several hundred years ago; the Forbidden City, the awe-inspiring hub of power in China for millenia; and Tiananmen Square, site of both a testament to Modern China's influence, and the site of a less-inspiring "incident" in 1989. All in all, not a bad way to start a trip.

Peking University
Peking University is the oldest and the most famous public institution in China. Popularly known as the "Harvard of China," this entry details the basic layout of Peking University (PKU), where I live, and a bit of history of the University since its founding in 1898.

Spring 2007 Roster
A short entry on my classes. The challenges of learning Chinese, and how learning about political reforms differs when your professor is a member of the Communist Party.

Chinese New Year
I remember back in middle school, when driving back to Michigan from Indiana, that we always would want to stop at the fireworks store to circumvent the law. No such restrictions existed here, in what is possibly the biggest celebration on the planet . . . at least in February. I also had the pleasure of eating with a local family, and the adventures in trying bread that looks like a fish.

Pingyao - China's Greenfield Village
Pingyao, roughly one and a half thousand years old, is both a United Nations World Heritage Site, a preserved museum of ancient China, and a fully functioning tourist destination, complete with bad food, cheap hotels, and street vendors galore.




Where's the McDonalds?
As many of you know, I have an infamous opposition to Chinese food and a (some would say unhealthy) infautation with western fast food. This essay details my attempts to eat Chinese food, along with the much-anticipated photos of me eating. Also included is a paragraph on my hunt to find the local McDonalds. (Hint: It's very close).

The Language Barrier - Or, why a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl has to explain that I was born in South Korea.
Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised, I figured that Koreans look somewhat different from ethnic Chinese. Not the case--as I continually repeat the phrase "wo shi meiguo ren" (I am an American) to the locals asking me questions, presuming I automatically understand Chinese. All fine, unless the dorm room in which you live stops you because they think you're a local student. Funny the first time, not so much after the first month.

Chinese Traffic
This could have been titled "Why I will never complain about a D.C. traffic jam again." This essay covers my near-death experience traveling the wrong way in a two way street, drunken cabbies, and the realization that traffic laws mean absolutely nothing to me anymore.

Chinese Weather
A friend of mine is in Ireland, and all the photos from there are green. I came to the depressing realization that the basic color of China--at least during the winter--is grey. The pollution may have something to do with that. In fact, it took me two months to realize that I should be able to see a mountain range from my window.

---

Michael Wagner

How's the Weather?

“How’s the weather?” is a standard small talk question, although in China, it can take a serious turn. As I mentioned in the opening, a friend of mine is studying in Ireland this semester, and it struck me all of the photos from there are a bright green in basic color, with perhaps a bright blue for the sky. Looking at my photos, the colors that stand out are . . . well, there are no colors that stand out! The country is grey, although I will freely concede this has much to do with the fact we are here during the winter. This also has much to do with the air pollution. On a scale of 0 - 400, China’s air quality on average measures 250 (this is a rough estimate). In other words, it’s bad. Below are two photos from my window, trees from campus, with a scenic coal factory in the background spewing smoke into the air. The second photo was taken about two months into my stay, and it was the first day I noticed the mountain range. That’s right, the air was smoggy enough to prevent me from seeing a mountain range from my window for the first few months. However, as the spring months approach, the air has gotten both clearer and bluer, although this morning was still the stark shade of grey we all know and love.

The second thing to comment on is the dryness. Beijing is basically a desert, much as Washington, D.C., is basically a swamp, and I can tell. In the weeks here, it has rained precisely twice–and both times in the past month. The first rainfall was actually accompanied by a snowfall the very next day, and the second rainfall was a light drizzling only a few days ago. So, it’s dry, polluted, grey, and cold. Charming–although I’ve heard promises the spring, when the air warms and the clouds sort of clear up, makes the city quite beautiful. As the Cherry Blossoms (yes, they are here as well) begin to open up, I can see hints of why this is considered one of the city’s most beautiful spots.

Traffic

Chinese traffic is an experience unto itself. It occurred to me today as I was walking to lunch, that I have absolutely no regard for the Chinese traffic laws or signals anymore. Crossing streets consists of looking, and dodging between traffic jams, trying to avoid being hit by a) a car, b) a bicycle, c) other pedestrians, or d) any of the oddly constructed, wholly inefficient vehicle/bikes motoring or pedaling around the city.

My first experience came the very second day. The whole program was headed to the Sanlitun area, and I had the (mis)fortune of riding in a taxi with one of Beijing’s crazier drivers. We had just gotten off the highway, and headed down a street. To reach our destination, we had to turn left. The left turn arrow had just turned red. Did that stop our driver? Not for a second. Ignoring the light, we turned left . . . into the oncoming lane, as two other taxies headed straight at us. Our driver decided to swerve sharply to avoid the cars . . . and swerved left. Onto the median. We traveled this way for the next fifty feet, until a hole opened up in oncoming traffic, at which point our driver proceeded to hit the accelerator and swerve back across oncoming traffic into the proper lane.

The other defining experience came from riding the program bus back during rush hour. Having taken public transportation out of D.C.’s city center at rush hour, I thought I was no stranger to busy traffic. I was wrong, as seemingly as many of the 14 million residents cram themselves onto buses, subway stations, and cars as possible when work ends (at a generous five o’clock).

I shouldn’t be too harsh, traffic isn’t all that bad. The cars are small enough and going slowly enough that most of the time it is possible to dart out in front of traffic and stand a reasonable chance of surviving. I’ve adopted the “local” rule, which is to say if a local crosses the street, regardless of how many oncoming cars there are, it’s safe to cross. My major concern is that when I return to D.C., I will disregard traffic and traffic lights in a similar manner, and end up a big wet smear on Massachusetts Avenue.

The Language Barrier - Or, why a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl has to explain that I was born in South Korea

“They will probably think less of you for not speaking the language,” warned Steve Wasiura, regarding the fact that I look Asian, despite being about as culturally American as you can get. Quick primer, I was born in South Korea, adopted when I was six months old, and lived in Illinois and Michigan my entire life. Many a person has also related this story to the closest Beijing resident, attempting to explain why, despite the fact I look very Chinese, I can’t speak the language!

I knew I had a problem the first week on campus. Our building, the University run hotel, is essentially a location where foreigners only stay. The building is manned twenty-four hours a day (nominally, I’ve seen the doorman fast asleep at later hours), and the employees can theoretically ask for your ID. Because I look like, yes, a Chinese, I was stopped the first day trying to enter. I had my student ID with me, and simply showed them, and they let me pass. I thought that because this is the system at AU, I would just have to show my ID every day. My first clue this wasn’t the case was coming back one evening with several of the folks, and realizing that I was the only person being carded. Charming.

Anyway, this continued, to the point where two employees rushed out after me one morning to try and identify me. I was leaving the building. In the morning. And I was still “carded.” At this point, the building employees, as well as the campus police guarding the international studies building, all recognize me and my trenchcoat (my first idea was to strap an American flag patch on my shoulder), so there isn’t any trouble.

It also makes for some relatively entertaining situations for my comrades here on the program. The girl referred to, Katie (Gordon College), speaks Chinese much better than I, and at lunch with her and several other friends in Pingyao, we struck up a conversation with the waitress. She spoke passable english, a benefit of serving mostly foreigners at the western-style restaurant, but my friends took the opportunity to chat with her in Chinese. At this point, although I knew maybe 10% of the words, or less, I was able to pick up a great deal from context. At one point, as I knew would happen, the waitress looked squarely at me, and asked something like, “What about him?” “Ta bu shi Zhongguo ren,” she explained (he is not Chinese), “ta shi Meiguo ren.” (He is American). This led to a lively ten minute conversation, attempting to explain South Korea, adoption, and Michigan, all in Chinese. I’m close to memorizing “I was adopted and was born in South Korea.”

Fortunately, there is one benefit–I am not automatically swarmed by local vendors hoping to make a fast kuai (currency) off of the rich Westerners. At the Silk Market, that bastion of cheap, negotiable (and fake) goods, I recall walking down a hallway with two friends behind me. No less than eight shopkeepers jumped out of their stalls, came right at me . . . and then passed me by, to shout “you buy, cheap, good quality!” at my (caucasian) friends behind me.

Although the humor wore off a long time ago, the program folks still get a kick out of it. The reality is that it happens all the time. Last week, our classroom was locked, and instead of asking our (clearly Chinese) professor, the night guard looked at me and rattled out what I presume was “which room do you need unlocking?” This Sunday, as is apt to happen, in a cab, the cab driver looked at me after one of us butchered the destination, expecting me to magically know where to go and how to tell him. I laughed, and said “I don’t know.” (I don’t know).

Where's the McDonalds?

I think it’s no secret that I don’t like Chinese food. I once tried to explain my food preference using the “distance from America” theory. Start in America, land of the free, and home of the double-cheeseburgers, steak, and fried chicken, and proceed to the east. The farther away from America, with some exceptions, the less I like the food. Hence my general enjoyment of English, Mediterranean, and Italian food; Middle-Eastern food less so; Indian food even less; and Chinese rounding out at the bottom.

Still, now living in China, I had no choice but to “do as the locals do,” and had my first fully Chinese meal the next day after arriving. It was . . . decent, although less than filling, as I would find most Chinese meals to be. In general, Chinese food is okay. Rice is a substitute for bread, and most food is salty, so I’ve taken a shining to chocolate chip cookies, comprised of dough and chocolate. Chinese also don’t serve much water (hot tea is customary) with their meals, and water can be more expensive than coke, so each meal I can be underhydrated. That first time, I had my camera with me, and thinking of all you good people back home anxious to see whether I would burst into flames eating non-American food, I proudly present the first photo of me eating Chinese food. (The first in several years, I honestly believe). Each photo is paired with the food I am eating.

The second major experiment is a food form known as “hotpot.” Essentially, each customer is given a pot of water, set to boil, occasionally with spices or flavoring. The customer orders his choice of meat, veggies, etc., and then dips the food into the boiling water to cook it himself. The beef was enjoyable, although without some Masterpiece BBQ sauce, it was a bit lacking (just kidding). The second photo is Jenny, attempting something I figured I was okay not trying: bull testicles.


The one local food I think I really enjoy, and in fact look forward to having again, was the famous Peking Duck. I’m not sure why it’s famous, but it is quite good. You have the roasted duck, and various toppings. Prepare by taking a dough wrap, place the duck, onion, and celery, and cover with soy sauce. Roll like a taco, and eat. (I omitted the celery on my second helping).

Dumplings, also known as “jiaozi,” is another mainstay. Depending on how it is made, it is quite good, but like any other common food, can also be quite bad. One evening, Dr. Youli Sun, the program director, invited us over to his (very nice) apartment to make dumplings. Essentially one takes a small circle of dough maybe one and a half inches across, and places a meat or vegetable filling on the circle. Press the dough into a half circle, trapping the filling, and steam or fry. Eat when hot, preferably many at a time.

The experiment in food cracked before the end of the week, as half the program suited up to find McDonalds. As it turns out, there are two within walking distance, one approximately ten minutes to the south of our dorm room. McDonalds, it should be noted, has hundreds of outlets operating in China. Unlike in the United States, McDonalds directly operates each restaurant, not allowing franchising for quality control reasons. As the fifteen or so of us descended on the counter, we all noted with delight that there was a picture menu conveniently for non-Chinese use. A double cheeseburger never tasted so good.

Pingyao

Our trip through the Shanxi province also included a two night stay at Pingyao. Strike that–we had a layover in two interesting spots, Jinci Park, and an old residence owned by a very rich Chinese family, the Qiao Family, somewhat akin to visiting the house of J.P. Morgan. Also to note is this house was the filming location of the movie Raise the Red Lantern. On the right is our group doing our best horsemen-warrior impression, although we look slightly less imposing.

We then arrived at Pingyao. Pingyao has beared this name for approximately 1,500 years, although the city itself is much older. Archaeology suggests men first congregated and lived in this region tens of thousands of years ago. What is known is that for several hundred years B.C. the city was built up as a strategic garrison location and passed between control from emperor to emperor as the years wore on. Originally “Pingtao,” the name was changed in 424 AD to avoid bearing the same name as the emperor at the time, Tao. During the Qing Dynasty, the city grew very prosperous and famous for its advanced banking industries, many of which still survive in the form of preserved buildings. Finally, in 1997, the city was named a “World Heritage Site” by the United Nations.

Today, Pingyao exists as a curious combination of one of the oldest cities in the world still standing, and modern tourist destination. In between the ancient temples and offices, preserved meticulously as museums, lie modern bookstores and tourist shops. Street vendors hawk their wares at you, while just down the road is a city wall built hundreds of years before America. Hotels, including the one we stayed in, combined beautiful old-style architecture, with modern plumbing, and in some places, wireless internet access.

We stayed for two days, experiencing the perverse pleasure of riding golf carts through crowds of people. Highlights include walking the city walls, something that offers a great view of the city and the exterior. Pingyao is probably the most visually interesting city I’ve visited so far, so I will let the photos speak for themselves. Here is the city at night.

The walls of the city, according to my guidebook, were first built several hundred years BC, and built to their present dimensions in 1327. No word on what kind of renovations go into the walls each year, but they afford a pleasant, relatively smog free walk during the morning, as well as a great view of the city.

One of the more interesting things was a recreation of life in the “old times.” One of the complexes that was preserved was an old government/administrative center. In addition to offices such as the military attache, agricultural administrator, bank liaison, and other government posts, was the center of the complex, the court. We managed to make it inside in time for a recreation of an old Chinese-style pre-trial hearing, complete with actors in the traditional garb. As a student of law, I was fascinated to see how the mechanics of the trial were in some ways identical–the judge staring imposingly down at the defendant, who sat meekly behind a table, guarded by “bailiffs.” Whether he was presumed innocent or guilty was not made clear.

Possibly the strangest fact about Pingyao is the fact it is still a fully functioning city, with local residents. Some of the more remote (read: non-tourist) parts of the city, especially near the wall, resemble the developing nation many people say China still is. I remember thinking, I thought I was in China, not some third world desert country!

After two days, we had basically exhausted our shopping options, seen enough temples, and missed hot showers in the morning, so we packed up and headed back to the bustling city of Beijing. I, however, remain glad I had the chance to glimpse life as it might have been for China, in the years before it was touched by western civilization.

Chinese New Year

One of my conversations with my friend Nick Miller (BEIDA, ‘06) centered around the Chinese New Year. “It’s the biggest celebration ever,” he said, or something close. After listening to fireworks go off for what must have been nearly twelve hours with absolutely no let up, I am tempted to conclude he’s right. The Chinese New Year, aka the Spring Festival, is approximately a half-month-long celebration that starts in the end of February (February 18 this year), and ends in mid-March. It is the functional equivalent of Christmas/Holiday/New Year in the west, and in fact most of BEIDA was emptied out as students returned to their homes for most of February. This year, 2007, is the year of the pig.

Our trip started with an early morning drive out of the University, and approximately an eight hour bus ride through the Chinese countryside. Highlights include looking out the window and seeing absolutely grey as fog and smoke combined to make for unpleasant viewing, looking at miles and miles of desert, and seeing the cooling towers of a nuclear reactor powering a small city uncomfortably close to the bus. No word on the safety features employed on these reactors.

After a less than overwhelming lunch, and a few choice movies on the bus, we arrived in Taiyun, the capital city of the Shanxi province. China is divided administratively into twenty-two provinces, roughly analogous to U.S. states in both political concept and (for most) size. Shanxi is about two provinces over, so think of it as a trip from D.C. through Virginia to North Carolina–or for the Michiganders, from Michigan through Ohio to West Virginia. Shanxi is somewhat renowned for having a great number of (dirty) coal mining operations and plants, and is sometimes blamed for the high levels of pollution in the surrounding provinces. Taiyun is the capital city, and it was certainly capital in size, as we drove through (once again) rows and rows of massive apartment and housing complexes, and into the downtown.

The program was given two choices, we could eat as a group, or we could eat with a local family. Feeling adventurous, I chose to eat with a family. Amanda (AU), Josh (Hampshire College), Kari (AU), and I thus drove across town, to a massive apartment complex, following a middle aged lady up the stairs. The apartment buildings were spacious on the inside, but on the outside looked both cramped and small–six stories of dirty exterior. Regarding our hosts, I had rationalized that, well, as we were American students, and initially it was just supposed to be Amanda and myself, both first year language students, we would have english speaking hosts. Not the case!

Still, they were lovely people. The father, maybe early forties, worked in a firm in the next province over and commuted to work (I think!). The mom seemed to stay at home. They had a teenage daughter, seventeen, I think, and a friend of hers from school was also over for the new year. We asked later, and sure enough, the friend was along just to “see the Americans.”


Given my rather finicky tastes, the dinner was. . . interesting. I am certain the food was all traditional, much as ham and cranberries might be around for a Christmas dinner, although this was rather indescribable–both figuratively and literally. Josh and Kari, although advanced students, couldn’t figure out how to translate the more advanced words for the food, only getting the fact it was “meat” of some sort. Hmm. The most interesting, I think, was this . . . bread, pictured here. It is in fact steamed bread, but shaped like a fish. The significance was lost on me at the time, although according to later research I think it was supposed to be a “koi fish,” symbolizing additional wealth for the new year. It tasted like steamed buns, despite its rather fishy appearance.

The evening was great, despite my lack of language skills. We conveyed my life story of being born in South Korea and now living in Michigan (a perennial favorite to tell to the locals), and in general had a good time. Additional festivities included watching the New Year’s broadcast on TV, and trying some opera dance moves. Needless to say, they were much better than us. As an explosive ending, if you will, we all went outside and set off the traditional firecrackers. As we walked out of the complex to get back to our hotel, the skies were already flashing with fireworks, as a low rumble could be heard all around me.

We arrived back at the hotel, where a number of our group had bought their own fireworks. As promised by Nick, when the clock approached midnight, the “city exploded.” I’ve never heard or seen so many fireworks in my life, and despite the warmth, kept my hat on to try and muffle the sharp explosions from all around me. I’m not sure what the safety regulations are on fireworks in China (probably non existent) as large fireworks–the real fireworks that blow up mid-air, not just sparklers–were shot in front of our hotel, no more than twenty feet from the entrance, and from rooftops and balconies above us. It was surprising to see the fire(balls?) hitting the sides of buildings. All in all, it was a fantastic show. The fireworks kept coming, and when we woke up seven hours later, were still going off here and there around the city.

Spring 2007 Roster

The “Beijing Program of Asian Studies,” the full name of my program, was established in the mid 1980's as a cooperative program between Peking University and American University. The program is now open to students from other universities, hence the smattering of students from such exotic locales as Boston College, Kenyon College, Linfield College, and Miami University of Ohio.

The program offers a language component, and several “regular” classes structured like an average American University course–that is, reading, class discussion, and a midterm examination and final paper, or perhaps two term papers. The courses are all conducted in english, and the professors are all Peking University professors. As for me, I’m taking Chinese language, Chinese Political Reforms, China in the Global Economy, and Sino-U.S. relations.

Chinese language is, as you might expect, the toughest for me. I don’t have a natural serious aptitude for learning languages, so it’s hard work. Compared to Spanish, say, I worked out it is, mathematically, three times as hard. Spanish, you learn the language Spanish to English, and English to Spanish. With Chinese, because the language is written using characters that bear no relation to a word’s pronunciation, you learn English to Pinyin (pronounced), English to Character (written), Pinyin to English, Character to English, and Pinyin to Character, Character to Pinyin. Thus, with six linkages, instead of two, it is three times as difficult. At least that’s how I justify it!

The other classes are fine, insightful, and interesting to hear. Chinese Political Reforms is taught by a professor who is a full fledged member of the Chinese Communist Party, a notion that made me laugh immediately. On a more sobering note was his warning not to publish or attribute anything he said in class, in the event the authorities read the discussions. While freedom of discussion was something he valued on campus and in the classroom, he noted it may not be fully acceptable in the “real world.” Sobering indeed. The other two classes are routine, if insightful, looks at China’s emergence as a global economic power and accession into the World Trade Organization, complete with case studies and exposure to various economic theories; and a look at contemporary Sino-U.S. relations with an emphasis on the past two hundred years of history, and how it helped form the current Chinese attitudes to the United States.

Peking University

Peking University (PKU) is generally regarded as China’s number one non-technical university, the “Harvard of China.” Indeed, this University, founded in 1898 as part of the Chinese reformation to bring the country into the modern era, admits only the top candidates from around the nation. The University houses approximately 20,000 or so undergraduate students at any one time, studying various disciplines. Most of the students I’ve met have been business students, eager to earn their degree and then study in the United States for an MBA. In Chinese, the University is Beijing Daxue, abbreviated as “BEIDA.”

PKU is also renowned as the nation’s top center for political movements. The May 4, 1919 movement against foreigners and the Japanese; the Cultural Revolution in part; and the 1989 Tiananmen Democracy protests all originated or had an important stage at Peking University. More recently, after the United States bombed the Chinese Embassy in Yugoslavia, PKU students took up the banner of protest again and marched to the U.S. Embassy in protest. (A more cynically minded individual noted that the next day the students went right back to applying to American graduate schools). It is interesting to be at an institution that has played part of so many of China’s important historical events in the past 100 years. The best AU equivalent was President Kennedy’s “We breath the same air” nuclear test ban speech in 1963, although to the best of my knowledge the only protest at AU in my time here was after the Boston Red Sox won the world series.

PKU, as you might expect, is a large university. I live in a University-run hotel, essentially, in the northwest of campus. To my north is Weiming Lake, easily the most beautiful part of campus, with a traditional pagoda overlooking the lake. During the winter, as you see, the lake freezes over, and hundreds of students ice skate around.

On a related note, PKU has very little parking space. For a major university of tens of thousands, in a city of fourteen million, this can be a problem. A friend of mine here remarked that most of the local students called it “Parking University,” and given how many times I’ve had to dodge a truck or car on the way to class, it seems entirely appropriate.

To the south is the library, the largest repository of books in the nation of China, actually. Other areas of note are the massive academic buildings, including the very new School of International Studies, which houses our program. The campus is a lot like any other major campus, with plenty of grocery stores, cafeterias, restaurants, laundry shops, and street vendors hawking fake DVD's and uncooked food–well, so not quite like U.S. Universities then.

Playing Tourist - Jingshan Park, the Forbidden City, and Tiananmen Square

The first few days went by really quickly, as one can imagine. The very first day, Saturday, was a tour around campus, combined with a “get to know you” and my first Chinese meal in, what I would guess to be several years. More on that later. Saturday, January 13, the next day, was the beginning of the program in earnest. We boarded several buses in the morning, and headed to downtown Beijing.

Beijing, composed of the two characters for “bei” and “jing” roughly translates into “north capital,” referring to its historical status as the administrative and power center for the Chinese empire, stretching back thousands of years. Today, Beijing is a major city, a province (the rough equivalent of a state), and the capital of the People’s Republic of China. The city measures roughly 1,700 square miles, and the greater metropolitan area houses roughly fourteen million people. All in all, a lot larger than Washington, D.C.’s comparatively small 67 square miles and 700,000 people. I got this sense traveling downtown, crossing four major highways and taking over a half hour–buildings, high rises, office complexes, restaurants, and more.

Our first stop was Jingshan park, which I wrote at the time, is a “sort of cross between Rock Creek Park and the National Mall.” In retrospect, it wasn’t quite the same, but was still a fascinating visit. Upon entering, we were greeted by one of the most unique art forms I think I’ve seen yet. Taking advantage of the cold, artists used brushes dipped in water to write words and make shapes on the cement, which promptly froze into ice, creating a (for the time) permanent image. Later, we ran into a group of locals doing what looked like aerobics, to bad America pop music. I had to laugh. The park is also notable as the location of the last of the Ming Dynasty’s emperor’s suicide site, as he hung himself as rebels overtook the capital.

After lunch, we stepped into the Forbidden City. Ornate, grandiose, and insular, I could see how an emperor could feel at home–but only during the summer. It was freezing at the time. Looking around, it was quite the site, although marred by the presence of several construction points. As Beijing gears up to host the Olympics in 2008, it seems every part of the city is undergoing renovation or reconstruction. Travel books do this place justice more than I will, but it was clearly awe inspiring, with over 800 buildings and 9000 rooms.

Leaving the “front” of the Forbidden City took us to our third and final destination for the day, Tiananmen Square. This, I thought, was much more of the “National Mall” for China–although I feel D.C.’s is much nicer (and greener). Tiananmen is known as the world’s largest public square, and I believe it, taking ten minutes to walk from one side to the other. To the north lies the Forbidden City, complete with a large painting of Chairman Mao overseeing the square, to the east the Chinese National Museum, to the west the Great Hall of the People, the rough equivalent of their Capitol Building (the National People’s Congress recently completed another session in this building), and to the south is the Gate of Heavenly Peace–but not before one passes by Chairman Mao’s mausoleum (closed for renovations until 2008).
This is also the site of the aborted democracy protests (and killings) in 1989. Needless to say, I cannot envision anti-war protesters gathering in this environment, not with armed soldiers every few meters. Although we have a monument to George Washington at the center of our public space, I still think it would be just a bit creepy if we hung a large portrait of Washington–or more appropriately, Franklin Roosevelt, on the west lawn of the Capitol to oversee the Mall. Regardless, the square was a neat place, reflecting some sense of the power and majesty of the Chinese as a people and as a nation.

Welcome to China - Day One in the Middle Kingdom

I remember talking to some of my friends who had gone to China (aka Steve Wasiura and Nick Miller) about at what point I would think, “What am I doing here!?” The consensus was that the plane ride would be draining enough, it might be after I stepped into the cold Beijing air, or perhaps even the morning after I arrived that it would “hit me.” It’s possible it still hasn’t hit me, as I approach two and a half months in China.

Both my parents had studied abroad, and in today’s increasingly “global” world, it was only natural that I should study abroad as well. I could afford it credit wise, I was on good track to finish my major, and could take a full semester off. When I finally picked China, my friends were surprised, to put it mildly. “You’re not going to, I dunno, London?” asked Anne Bradley when I first told her I was going to China. I laughed at that. As I explain now, I picked China because the program emphasized my areas of study–that is, Chinese politics and international relations, because the program did not have a language requirement (my year of Spanish in High School having long since abandoned me), and because the program was proctored directly through the University. I also picked China because, as a citizen, I thought it was important to learn more about a country some call America’s only rival in the next generation. (Anyone surprised?)

Thus, after a great deal of work, I had packed my bags and drove with my parents to the Detroit Airport one cold January morning. We ate at Bob Evans, a hearty American breakfast (one of the things I miss the most), and at the airport, I found the local McDonalds and grabbed two double-cheeseburgers . . . for luck, if you will. An hour later, I was seated in between what I presume were two Chinese nationals, and was headed to the skies. In flight entertainment consisted of four full-length movies, a great deal of reading, sleeping, and a bit of writing. Although the plane was listed as the same flight through to Beijing, the layover in Tokyo’s Narita airport required me to change planes. Visions of my luggage getting lost in Japan hit me, although I made it onto the plane easily enough. My one pleasure while passing through the security was the rather odd realization that I was actually taller than all the security guards–something definitely not true during my time at the White House.

As promised by my predecessors, the airport was clean, well lit, and had english signs alongside the Chinese characters. I flew in with a group of students from Augustana College, interestingly enough. I’d say the only moment of hesitation came at the customs border, wondering whether I should get my passport stamped with the seal of a communist country. The moment left just as quickly, as I stepped into the terminal to find my luggage.

Waiting for me right outside the inner terminal was a kind looking man with a sign bearing my name, along with a few other names I recognized from the program itinerary. Another guy from Boston College was waiting, as well as Li Hong, the program coordinator. After two other girls arrived a few minutes after me, we all got into two cars and started our drive to Peking University.
The airport is located in the upper northeast of Beijing, and the University the upper northwest, so we drove across the highway over the top of the city. I remember looking out the window, wondering what I could see. In short, I could see nothing. The highway lights were on over the highway, illuminating the road well. However, as I looked into the air, I realized just how dirty the air was. The lights were reflecting off of the smog and dust, and back onto the highway. No matter how hard I looked, all I could see was an orange haze beyond the highway. Great, I thought. My first time in China, and I can’t even see the country. We arrived in good time, however, and I walked up the five flights of stairs to my room at the top floor. (This walk would soon be joking dubbed “the Long March.”

In a final note, my roommate had locked the door, and I didn’t have a key to the inner door, so after pounding with my third roommate (located in the single) for a few minutes, I finally stumbled into my room and promptly went to sleep.