The first week, part one

Ni hao! I’ve well and truly arrived in Beijing, and have finally been able to type out my impressions of the first number of days. There has been interesting food, even more interesting toilets, panics have been had, an apartment has been found, and lots more things have happened. I will be adding more entries as soon as possible as there truly is a lot to tell. Hope you enjoy reading!

6 January 2008, somewhere over Europe

The true meaning of the phrase no way back

So there we finally were, me and my boyfriend (wretched in between myself and what had to be a relative of Helmut Kohl), on a Lufthansa flight from Dublin to Bejing via Frankfurt. After planning this move for a year and spending countless hours talking to the world and its cousin about it, it did feel a bit surreal actually doing it. After my arrival on Monday morning, I was scheduled to meet a representative of my new company, EF, who will bring me to my hotel. During the first the week I would begin my training as an English teacher, and will be standing in front of a class within two weeks after that. Himself will be in China for ten days or so- after spending the first couple of days in Beijing with me, his plan is to fly to Shenyang to look at his own new job which he will be starting as soon as he gets his visa sorted. Since there was two of us flying, we were permitted 40 kg of check-in luggage between us. I, however, contributed 56 of the total 64 kilos we did have, and Lufthansa kindly would have charged me EUR 30 per kilo had I wanted to check both of my bags in. (Don’t calculate that if you faint easily.) I ended up having one of them shipped with DHL for about one-third of the airline’s price, and was left hoping my big blue case would safely arrive at the Chinese address I’d scribbled on the form in Roman letters. (Sound risky? You don’t know half of it!)

I’d truly savoured my last German-style roll at Frankfurt airport, very much aware that it’d be a long time before I would see anything like it again. Unfortunately it was impossible to bid farewell to decent beer as all they had on offer was Hefeweizen and Radler. Those southern savages.

The flight was more than smooth, with impeccable service, decent food and reasonable entertainment (I gave The Martian Child a miss in favour of the Johnnie To-produced romantic comedy Hooked on You which turned out to be quite a pleasant watch.)

When, after a total eleven-and-a-bit hours in the air and not a bit of sleep, the captain announced the landing approach, I suddenly understood that the dodgy feeling in the depths of my stomach had nothing to do with my special vegetarian in-flight meal but that the realization was finally kicking in. Realization that touching ground here meant goodbye to cheddar cheese, Dublin weather and all things Irish and, worse, my home country, my way of living, my family and everything I had ever been about.

7 January 2008, morning

Jaysus, the size of the place!

After an emotional but smooth landing it was straight back to business- after coming to a standstill on the largest runway I’ve ever seen and picking up our luggage from the largest belt I’ve ever seen I met my contact and hopped on a cab towards my hotel. During the ride the sadness became sheer awe, and I found myself not conversing with the lovely lady but gawking, with my chin as far down between my feet as it’s ever been, at the sheer scale of things around me. The streets are wide, vast stretches of concrete as expected. Nothing, however, could have prepared me, from a town of 300,000 inhabitants, for the unbelievable height of the buildings around me. As soon as we got past the fifth ring road, all I could see around me was huge, madly huge, shiny, imposing skyscrapers around me. Literally as far as you could see, you were blinded by the sun reflecting of the glass surfaces of all this stunning, crazy architecture. Think Manhattan, and then think a hundred times the size, with lots of sun and a million times the amount of people. The amount of people! At every crossing, I was stunned at the masses of bodies moving across it into all directions. Sure, it’s a more than common fact that China is the world’s most populous country and all, but it’s not until you see the hordes over hordes over hordes streaming across the streets that it truly hits you.

That said, I was awed and humbled by these first impressions, but not put off in the slightest. For as majestic as the environment is, there is a kindness to the place. I was greeted warmly at the airport, met with the most intrigued friendliness by the cab driver, and the people in the street seemed to have an efficient but positive attitude to them. The city also gave an impression of quaint chaos- or the traffic did, at least. With hundreds of thousands of new drivers taking to the streets in recent years, experiencing Beijing traffic is something else (and this from somebody who at this stage is well used to Irish driving). The sound of beeping replaces that of the radio, indicating is nothing more than a gimmick, overtaking is done from all sides and angles and preferably with little space.There seem to be funny concepts of transportation around too- there was the obligatory cyclist with their own weight on the back of their vehicle, and I spotted another guy on a bike who was pulling a little trailer which had another fella sitting in it, covered in a blanket and having a fag. The pedestrians, trotting along with the pace of the city, had an efficient but warm aura to them. Within the large and overpowering, Beijing has something that’s small and friendly, quaint and welcoming.

As I stepped out of the taxi into the freezing cold, my gut feeling told me I may just be able to make this place my new home.

7 January 2008, evening

Swapping Riesling for Ricewine (*)

After a very big sleep, we decided to check out one of the nearby restaurants for our first proper Chinese dinner. And we weren’t disappointed- between the four or five small plates we ordered, we got a selection of silky smooth tofu, wonderfully savoury cabbage, fatty but tasty meats and one or two mysterious pieces of seafood. No rice, no sweet and sour, and no chips (thank God for that!) (When eating out in China, rather than having a piece of meat with sauce and rice all on one plate, you order a set of different smaller dishes to share.)

First meal in Beijing!

The discovery of the evening, however, turned out to be the baijiu. Advertised in the English section of the menu as Chinese White Wine, we were well aware that it wasn’t wine by our understanding of the word, but still we had no idea just what we were letting ourselves in for.

Feeling very brave, I ordered a large bottle for the two of us to share, thinking, “I’ve had the Korean stuff, and I’ve had the Japanese stuff, how bad could this possibly be?” Oh foolish me! It is hard to describe the sensation of the clear, innocent-looking stuff first hitting your mouth cavity. Swallowing petrol and having it lit up inside your mouth probably sums up the taste and afterburn best.

With the hairs on the back of our necks, our heads, and probably inside our noses, standing at a 90-degree angle, we found ourselves gasping for air for a few minutes after the first sip. How I managed to finish most of the bottle myself remains a mystery to me (I remember babbling something about being polite)- all I remember is falling into the hotel room, crawling across the floor and heaving myself into bed.

I do remember (translation: would like to think that) my last thought before passing out was,
"Welcome to Beijing."

(*) Technically baijiu is not a ricewine but a sorghum spirit, but the alliteration was just too good, and accuracy is overrated.

Bis bald,

Nadine