Back in the ’Jing of Things

By JEANNIE IVANOV

Back in the ’Jing of Things

By JEANNIE IVANOV

LI SHIGONG

I’ve just returned to Beijing after a fiveweek stint at home for Christmas. Of the many questions thrown at me by friends and family about the merits of living in the East, the most common by far was, “What do you miss most while you’re not living in the UK?” It was closely followed by, “Do they really eat dog there?” and “What does it taste like?” My standard answer to the “what do you miss” question—especially when asked by my mother—was “friends and family.” This answer is true of course, but one night as I was enjoying a combination of roast beef and bad British TV, it occurred to me that a far more pertinent question was,“When you’re at home, what do you miss about living in Beijing—are you looking forward to going back?”

I think it’s safe to say that aesthetically speaking, unless you’re a skyscraper engineer, modern Beijing is not a city that immediately charms you. I come from a place with lots of hills and old buildings so it took me a while to get my head around the geography of parallel streets and flatness. Merely getting from A to B could drive a newly arrived resident to utter distraction, especially if their grasp of Mandarin is not what it should be (like mine), and on some days the pollution, the crowded pavements, the crazy traffic and the break-neck speed at which the city operates can be rather overwhelming. I certainly had my share of these days during my inaugural four months and they did give me moments of uncertainty as my flight home approached—Would I be excited about coming back? Would I want to come back? Was moving here the right decision? Where is my life going?

These dark moments were compounded by threats about the Siberian-style weather to which I might return. When I left in December, it felt as though it couldn’t get much colder and the snow had already visited twice. I was literally wearing almost everything I owned to walk to work. I got a bit caught out—balmy autumnal weather until October 31 and then it went sub-zero with three inches of snow. But every time I mentioned the plummeting temperature to a veteran expat (somebody who’s been here for more than 12 months) or a local, they’d chuckle happily and say, “It’s only November now, wait until winter really sets in.” Perhaps I would come back to the new ice age.

So for a while I sat at home thinking about frozen pavements and bonkers traffc and whether I would fnd a new apartment quickly and if I had a valid entry left on my visa. But then I had a really terrible English-posing-as-Chinese convenience meal, and it made me think about a good dumpling place that I found by accident behind a building site during my frst week in Beijing. That one thought led me to the gradual conclusion that Beijing, and China, slowly grows upon you while you barely realize it’s doing so.

Admittedly my improving Mandarin and ability to recognize more ingredients in the supermarket have helped as time has gone by. But the moment I stepped back off the plane and out into China I realized that at some point I had become fond of Beijing. It helped that the sun was blazing and the air was crisp, and the security official was so cheerful that I pressed the big smiley face button on his customer satisfaction key pad. It also helped to know where to go to get a nice breakfast and that I could get to my apartment on a cheap, clean subway train (if you’ve ever commuted in London you’ll understand this novelty), or, if I was feeling lucky, with a taxi driver who might or might not understand my request. Mind you, the frst time I went to the wrong place by taxi I ended up in a lovely park where there were lots of couples dancing and playing games, so not a bad result.

My resolution now that I’m back is to pay more attention to the charming, unexpected and entertaining aspects of Beijing, rather than some of the less appealing things I found myself whingeing about to friends back home. My other resolution is to get to know more local people—I live in an area where the expat bubble is a temptation—and perhaps seek out more pretty, green spaces now I know that they exist. But yesterday I was pole-axed by a “welcome back to China” stomach bug so my only social engagement for the next few days is with the bathroom.

I love being at home, but Beijing never allows things to become predictable.

The writer is from the UK and lives in Beijing

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