Oct. 2020; I don’t like crowds

After living in the glorious PR of C since 2010, you start to be asked the same questions by differing souls whilst going about your day to day routine. And after hearing the same questions time and time again, it becomes useful to have an immediate, machine gun quick, go-to answer to whip out with blazing speed and cease all further lines of questioning regarding such matters. I couldn’t imagine the number of times I’ve been asked “have you been to our capital city, Beijing?,” and therefore over time I’d figured out my machine gun answer. “No. I don’t like crowds.” Strangely enough, this never ceased to be met with the courteous nod and knowing “mmmm” from said questioners. But now, thanks to a rather exciting opportunity I was given, I know different. Beijing isn’t crowded at all. I mean, no more than any other humongous world city. In fact, compared to my part of China, being Shenzhen and Hongkers, it’s really quite equanimous. I now see how Beijing is really quite misrepresented in the media. All I’d seen before was nightmarish photos of the great wall, usually with about half the people of China all huddled in the same spot. Or the forbidden city, coincidentally housing the other half. But this is not the case at all, or at least, it wasn’t how I saw things…

I’d never been to Beijing before, purely because of only 2 such reasons;

1. The time/money conundrum. If you’ve got the time, you haven’t got the money, and vice versa. (This year I’ve had a lot of time and… well.. you know...)

2. Travelling in China IS NOT cheap. When you budget for flights, a reasonable hotel to hang your hat, food and beers and buying terribly rubbish souvenirs, you can quite literally visit anywhere within a couple thousand kilometre radius. Hence why I’ve been to Cambodia, Vietnam, Philippines and Japan a bunch of times, but never once been to the Harbin ice festival. (Oh, and that it’s bloody cold and I’m a real pussy now in cold weather.)

But the heavens smiled upon my lowly self, and offered me the chance to go stay in Beijing for 10 days, to help teach some photography and take in the sights and smells of the magnificent capital. But what did I actually know about Beijing? I’d seen pictures of the hutongs and I really wanted to go take some photos there. The Great wall, forbidden city tourists tourists tourists. Boss man chills there. And that was about it. So for the golden week mid autumn maxo relaxo I packed my case and jumped on a plane. And this, my friends, is my travel journal of how it all went. But first, *side note; Planes. I don’t like flying much. I get a bit sick and a bit scared and I really don’t like being caged up with strangers eating, coughing, picking their noses and dribbling as they sleep. But the worst thing is the size issue. I’m 196 tall. After a couple of hours on any flight I start to get painfully achy, trying to somehow squeeze myself into a space designed for someone 3/4 of my size. Yes you can pay for extra leg room, but this is what makes my blood boil. How can airlines legally justify charging extra to discriminate against tall people? It’s not like I’m some cake monster who needs to buy 3 seats because or their width, I’m just naturally bloody tall. Your damn plane doesn’t fit me and you think I should pay more to be somewhat comfortable. I’m sorry, do tall people earn more salary?! Do we get a yearly bonus for dealing with height disadvantages? I hope one day the worlds airlines will think a little more with their heart and a little less with their wallets. But I digress.

After arriving in the big beautiful BJ airport I was immediately whisked away to the first leg of the trip; Campsite. The first few days were to be spent there with some lovely VVIP lady photo students, wandering gaily amongst the trees and sniffing the flowers, basking in the Autumn sunshine and casually snapping off some frames whilst passing on morsels of knowledge to these keen camera girls. Wonderful. Somewhere in the far corners of my mostly empty mind I recollected the expression “glamping.” This was becoming quite a thing around the world, kind of halfway between staying at a hotel and in a tent. The great outdoors with heaters, outdoor buffets and wifi (a.k.a camping for wimps.) I am a wimp, and glamping sounded magnificent. People around the globe pay reasonably large chunks of change for glamping, telling others how “darling, you feel so close to nature” when in all actuality they spent the day glugging wine, gossiping, screaming at wasps and eating barbecued shrimp. Not exactly Bear Grylls, but hey, I’m not exactly Bear Grylls either. I’m more like Paddington bear. But horror, there was a small problem in my assumptions. Our glamping had forgotten the “GL” and just had a plain old “C.” No wifi. No buffet (but Baozi big as footballs.) Stone cold showers. And some absolutely brain dead chimpanzee hadn’t packed warm clothes….

I checked the weather before I left Shenzhen. Beijing, around 25 degress, daytime. Right. So, Shenzhen is around 29 degrees daytime, and around 24 or so at night. So if Beijing is 25 degrees daytime, it must be around 20 at night. Perfect. (Yes, I can almost hear what you’re thinking now. And yes I agree with you, I am often really unfathomably stupid.) The daytimes at our camp were warm, even hot. But that first night, and the successive nights after, I was like a giant frozen prawn, shivering in my sleeping bag meant for someone 30cm shorter than I. Being sleepless because you are so cold is really no fun at all, I sincerely do not recommend it.

But, much to my dear readers amusement, the third night was even more fun than that. The daytime had been windy, chilly, and the weather report had warned of “big wind.” Oh dear, big wind. We’d had dinner, my days lesson was done, and I decided to take a walk around the campsite, ease down and have a couple of beers. I found a large bar-tent thing, showing “the big band” on a bed sheet from a projector. The beer was good (but pricey) and I relaxed there for a while, talking to the sweet bar girl, sipping my brew and taking in the music. Super. Finally, I was feeling good. After some time, the aforementioned “big wind” picked up. And picked up some more. And more. People outside started shouting as tents were taking off, flying into the yonder, blown away like empty plastic bags. The beer tent wanted to join his friends, so bar girl and I grabbed the pegs and ropes, hammered down the corners, it felt like as soon as one side was secure the other side wanted to take off. This went on for about an hour possibly. Bar girl decided it was time to take the tent down, this was getting too risky. I helped her pack it up, then thought it best to make my way back to my own quarters. Along the way back I stopped to help people whose tents were all attempting flights across country. That’s what you do, right? If you see people that need help, you help them.

After some time I made it back to my own day-glo inflatable castle of a tent, which thankfully was still pretty much in the same place. I climbed in, grateful that big wind had decided to bless me with a place of slumber. I wrestled my way into the too-small sleeping bag, and thanks to the sound of the wind (I love the sounds of storms and wind) and the several pricey beers I’d partaken of, drifted quickly off. Blissful sleep. Now, what happened next has to be imagined by the dear reader, but its memory will stay with me for some years. Think back to the movie Titanic; Some people were in their beds, dreaming of fantastical voyages to far-off lands, when their world was turned upside down (quite literally) by the big boat taking a nose dive. Well, that’s what happened to me. I was woken by the feeling akin to being a pair of dirty pants in a washing machine. My world was also quite literally upside down, and my camping stuff, clothes, shoes, camera gear at al was raining down on me like I was churned up in a hurricane. Being thrown around, even for just a few moments, with a face full of 2 day old worn socks is not something you should wish on your worst enemy. People came to help after hearing my macho screams, and due to being upset and, in truth, momentarily really bloody scared, I raised my voice a bit and swore at people, and for that I’m truly sorry. My belongings were found and gathered, and I weepily skulked off to go sleep in the car. (Me, 196 tall, trying to origami myself to sleep on the back seat of a small Japanese family car. This I also do not recommend.) *Side note; Over the years many, many people have called me a drama queen. This I am not, but by my own admission, I am very emotional. I laugh easily. I cry kinda easily. I can lose my temper kinda easily and I’m very sorry kinda easily. I apologise to those who’ve had to deal with me during such times.

The next day was the final day of camp. I had my morning lesson with my super VVIP lady, and hallelujah it was time to go back to the city and snuggle in the warm bosom of a nice hotel. That first hot shower in there felt like I was a sinner being reborn into the world, every inch of my dirty frame was being kissed by warm soapy angels. I desperately wanted to take a nap. I’d barely slept for the last 4 nights, but I could hear the sweet tones of the city beckoning me outside. If I nap now, I’ll be dead to the world until tomorrow. Instead of a nap I had a black coffee (usually I’m a de-caf guy, too much caffeine makes me shake) but this was the fuel I needed to get my self outdoors, to the streets. I grabbed my camera, and I walked. I walked miles. And I loved what I saw. Although it was nearly dark the streets were still alive, people making their way home from work, others laughing with friends and queueing for restaurants, bakeries, cafes, noodle shops, people walking dogs. Life felt a little slower than Shenzhen. People were enjoying themselves. They were meeting for fun, for pleasure, not for business meetings with clients or hurrying home to gorge on delivered rubbish food. Strangers smiled and said hello. A police officer talked to me very politely, shook my hand and said “it’s nice to meet you.” Several people held the door open for me, and for each other. These first few hours was the initial hint, the bubbly fuzzy butterfly feeling in your tummy you get when it happens. I’m a little bit in love with Beijing.

The next morning I was up early, this was my first day to explore the city. I’d wanted to go experience the Hutongs, and a super cool guy named Toby at the big wind camp had suggested where I go. He was born in the Hutongs, so I couldn’t have wished for a better person to advise me. The metro journey there felt a little like the tube in London, a bit old and shaky. The Shenzhen metro is of course new and very clean, just like Shenzhen itself. Another difference being that guards on the Beijing metro actually looked and felt like how guards should behave. They patrolled each carriage like soldiers, barking at those whose face mask was pulled down below their nose. (Why do those selfish people refuse to help keep everyone safe? Ugh….) And they actually looked like security guards. They were bulky, strong, a bit like human bulldogs. A lot of the Shenzhen metro security guards look like skinny willows who would blow over if you pointed a hairdryer at them. I arrived at the first Hutong area. Now, in my mind I’d built up this mental image of some run down old shanty town shacks, barely still standing in the middle of one of the worlds wealthiest and greatest cities. Old people scurrying around dirt track paths, like time had frozen still for 50 years. Oh how wrong could I be…

That day I took my time and again walked miles upon miles, around 4 or 5 areas of Hutongs. And they were nothing less than charming. Some were a little bit old but all looked strong as an ox, narrow alleyways like a labyrinth, but all very well kept and extremely clean. Some were converted to small shops and even boutiques, some were cafes, eateries, even a tattoo shop. Again, the residents were polite and welcoming, always agreeing with a smile for me to take some photos. Truth be told, I was a tiny little bit disappointed. I’d had visions of travelling back in time, and here I was amongst Mercedes cars and graphic design studios. I wanted more (or less, actually.) The Hutongs were great, a superb experience and a very interesting way to spend a day, but if you’re in search of run down old housing areas I can show you much better/worse here in Shenzhen, truly. That evening I was invited out for dinner, and enjoyed mexican food that would be twice the price here in Shenzhen, with three divine ladies. Tomorrow; camp number 2; The Great Wall.

Now this was going to be the test; Teaching photography for 3 days, with a dozen kids. As I’ve mentioned previously, I do really like kids. Or should I rephrase, I like good kids. In a gang/pack of a dozen young ones, there’s always a few crazy little monsters. But, after only a few hours with them I realised that once again the heavens had smiled down upon me, and they were all really awesome little people. One of the girls explained to me, in flawless English, how photosynthesis works with underwater plants. As the others were playing video games on their phones, she was reading Jane Austin and gave me a concise book review on that and some other classic novels. (When I was her age I was laughing uncontrollably at farting on my friends.) We did the wall and it’s gigantic steps that are steep enough to give this city gentleman a hernia. *Side note; Upon seeing the Great Wall for the first time I had a rather unusual feeling, best way to describe it as being moved. To see something that old, that majestic, is one of those times you stop and just look on in wonder. I had the same sensation at Stonehenge in England. Now that’s a real enigma. We strolled around a local small village, ate nuts, took photos and watched the kids turn into sugar bombs as they filled themselves up on candy and sodas. We stayed in a gorgeous little guest house villa kinda place at the foot of the Great Wall, with good food, heating in each room and a bed big enough for 3 people (which I unfortunately didn’t get chance to try.) The days passed all too quickly, and when It was time to leave I wasn’t alone in feeling a little sad it was all over. The bus dropped us off back in the city, we had our goodbye hugs, and that was that. Those few days, with the kids, and the organiser lady who was like an adorable mother hen, and the other lady photographer who was so great to talk and laugh with, will be among the happiest memories of my time in China. That evening I met with a ravishing Shanghai friend of mine for catch up chats over coffee. I got lost walking in a straight line. I drank some superb imported beers, and I slept like a tipsy bear.

Before I knew it, it was Friday. My flight back home was Saturday afternoon, so I had a full day ahead to take in a little more of this place that, I was, by now, really quite mesmerized by. I’d arranged to meet another fantastic photographer friend of mine for the day, and she’d kindly offered to guide me around the 798 art area. We spent the day walking and talking, discussing everything from social economics to soup noodles. We said cheers over Belgian beer. We bought books and souvenirs. We went into a Leica store and both decided we couldn’t afford to even look at the cameras in there. The hours flew by, we said au revoir, and the daylight disappeared into darkness.

After all that I was just a happy tourist. More great food, more souvenir shopping that included three pairs of FaiYue shoes. I drank alone in a gorgeous low light bar with old film noir posters adorning the walls. The hours came and passed, and quick as a flash it was time to grab a taxi and head to the airport. Mama I’m coming home. When I’ve been to new cities, places, I have this thing where I give that place a one word adjective. Try it. Think of a place and give it just one word. Shenzhen, new. Hong Kong, confused. London, cold. Shanghai, elegant. But Beijing? Quaint.

I’ve been living, happily, in Shenzhen for 10 years. But if that was a relationship, Shenzhen and I are just dating. London and I are divorced. But I would marry Beijing. (Just so long as Hong Kong could be my mistress…)