Back to Normal Thank god that’s over. It’s been a struggle living at the geographical center of a once-ina-decade leadership transition in the world’s most populous nation. Trying to keep pace with the reams of news coverage devoted to speculation over who would make it into the Politburo Standing Committee, and what it might mean should such predictions prove correct, has been a constant struggle, and all just to keep one’s end up in conversations over beer or coffee. Journalists and analysts everywhere will be breathing a huge sigh of relief now they have some tangible facts to deal with, and know who the magnificent seven actually are, while the rest of us can resume the business of our daily lives as usual. The small business owners of Beijing who were told to keep a low profile during the Congress, will quietly begin turning the lights back on, or taking delivery of the truckloads of produce kept outside the city limits for a full week. Visiting businessmen who have as yet failed to attain the social status of “car owner” will once again be able to wind down the rear windows of their cabs and drink in the crisp autumnal air, now there is no danger of in-car shenanigans disrupting important meetings. Soccer players can stop smuggling balls under their sweaters when traveling to a kickabout in the park, now that hot air balloons and the like can once again be legally carried in public. Mothers in Shunyi district are now able to complete their Christmas shopping by visiting the toy store and purchasing the remote controlled helicopter their children have been clamoring for without giving their address, name, rank and ID number. More importantly for the city’s Chinese residents, the 1.4 million volunteers mobilized to keep order and make sure nothing untoward spoiled the atmosphere of the conferences can take off their eiderdown jackets and bid a less-than-fond farewell to the cold street corners they have called home NEWSCHINA I January 2013
Illustration by Xiang Zhaohui
By David Green
My protective instinct towards my adoptive city always kicks in when I’m gearing up to showcase Beijing to the uninitiated.
for a fortnight. Traffic, the bane of every Beijinger’s life, will also hopefully improve now that drivers are not required to either register or provide identification when entering areas close to government headquarters. I’m glad things are getting back to normal. I haven’t lived in Beijing for five years without forming an attachment to the city, its people and lifestyle, and I have little time for events which cause massive disruption to this vibrant city’s daily life. However, it was amidst all the palaver of the Party Congress that I prepared to host two good university friends who were making a flying visit to Beijing on their way back home to the UK after a stint in Taiwan. My protective instinct towards my adoptive city always kicks in when I’m gearing up to showcase Beijing to the uninitiated – many of whom make no secret of their bafflement at why I should choose to live here. Naturally, my friends wanted to visit the Great Wall and, as they didn’t speak a word
of Mandarin between them, it fell to me to be their guide. But what obstructions would we find on our way there? Checkpoints? Border patrolmen armed to the teeth? The choking, snaking tourist crowds of the National Day vacation? As it turned out, none of the above. Our trip turned out to be a delight, hassle-free and well worth it from my point of view when my friends greeted the sight of the wall itself with gasps of awed wonder which were enough to force me to reappraise a spectacle I’d long since come to take for granted. The driver who ferried us to and from the bus stop to the Great Wall village of Mutianyu also displayed a touching sense of responsibility by waiting for us at the bus stop to make sure we caught the express back home, rather than fall victim to the achingly slow local route that carried the same number. Later in their stay, my friends once more confounded my expectations by thoroughly enjoying a trip to Tiananmen Square in the pouring rain. Even when security around the site was at its peak, a journey I’d cried off attending for fear it would be next to impossible proved a breeze – indeed, there was no indication that the police were inclined to ruin anyone’s holiday, regardless of what was happening behind closed doors in the Great Hall of the People. My friends’ final assessment was that they found Beijing to be a much friendlier place than they’d dared hope, and a lot less oppressive than they’d been conditioned to expect by reading about it. That they could form this opinion while visiting at the height of the thick atmosphere of paranoia surrounding the 18th Party Congress does much to put things in perspective. Now, with my Internet once again chugging along at a snail’s pace (rather than simply not working altogether), I can, swaddled in my winter wear, get back to business as usual in the city which, for all its faults, I have grown to think of as home.
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