The difference is quite stark. Forty minutes before you enter Beijing airspace, a vast expanse of flatness extends below in all directions. Then, all of a sudden, hills emerge and before you can straighten your seat, mountain ranges crisscross the land and tiny townships sprout within their folds.
And, just as quickly, the tarmac of the Chinese capital is upon you, blazing in the throes of early summer.
I had not expected it to be warm in May; one whole suitcase was filled with winter wear, while most of my carry-on baggage was crammed with pullovers, windcheaters and thick socks. I seemed to have come prepared for early February, like in my previous stint with China Daily in 2009.
One thing that bedazzles you almost immediately at Beijing's international airports is their clinical efficiency. I had expected a long wait to get out of the terminal, but it took me just under a couple of hours to reach China Daily's foreign experts' apartment building.
Traffic seemed light, my host was extremely courteous and the car itself seemed straight out of a foreign leader's motorcade, minus the security detail, of course! Did it feel like deja vu all over again? It did not, since the deja vu happened in a previous arrival. Last time, in the thick of winter, it seemed like a homecoming of sorts — I had imagined myself as a Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) poet in a previous life who lived in the imperial palaces of the north capital as I sped along, looking at trees shorn of leaves, late in the afternoon.
This time around, there was a wee bit of trepidation, I must admit.
I asked myself: Have I made the right decision? During the farewells back home to colleagues on my last day at the office, the reactions to my heading off to China were incredulous — "Why are you going back at a time of the pandemic? You must be crazy to quit even before getting a visa … are Indian journalists even allowed to travel there?" — these were the usual questions I encountered. I tried to hide any traces of queasiness and would say self-assuredly that this would be plug-and-play since I had already worked there. I even rattled off the Chinese numerals to whomever would stop by to listen. See, if I know my yi, er, san, si … and so on, I cannot be wrong, right?
Well, as a matter of fact, I have not been proved wrong.
Right from my first day in the office, I have been made to feel at home by extremely supportive colleagues, some of whom I had known from my earlier stint. I took to Chinese food with relish. Seeing the salads and meat-filled dishes at the cafeteria filled me with nostalgia. Surprisingly, I am even better at using chopsticks now.
It's been over a month and I am taking in the sights and sounds and landmarks of Beijing, filled with a new wonder. There is definitely no "familiarity breeds contempt" at play for me. This feels both fresh and forgotten. I have resolved to travel more widely this time, understand the people and Chinese culture better and make more friends, especially of the kind who will generously gift me packets of Chinese tea!
Top of my list is a trip to Shenyang, Liaoning province, after a feature story in our own very pages piqued my interest in this city, which has quite a bit of historical significance and especially yummy street food that has become a rage all over the country. I realize now that therapy for the soul does not require more visits to malls and amusement parks, but rather long walks absorbing the milieu in a well-maintained Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) park. No more stuffy plane rides, but the sedate pace of a train or even a bus will do for me. Walk to understand, not fly to bypass culture. That will be my motto.
I have made a good beginning already — my first local bus ride along with a colleague to apply for an internet connection certainly felt better than an airplane ride. So, beware a stranger from yindu who knows how to say xiexie and nihao at the drop of a hat!
