The Air

With all the talk about how bad the air is in Beijing, I half-expected the sky to resemble the above-ground scene from “The Matrix”. As it turns out, we had blue skies all three days in Beijing. Granted, it wasn’t quite as blue as what we usually see back home in North Carolina, and around dawn you can definitely see a layer o pollution in the far-off horizon, but it definitely wasn’t as bad as many reports have made it out to be. Perhaps our being here in the middle of winter has something to do with it. Oh, and we walked around Beijing for three days without masks, and so far we feel fine. No shortness of breath, no respiratory problems, no grimy taste in our mouths.

Restrooms

It used to be that you didn’t set foot inside a public restroom in China unless you were about to embarrass yourself in public. The restrooms we stopped into so far on this trip have all been drastic improvements over what I saw when I last visited China in the mid-90s. They are still not the cleanest of places, but they are now no worse than public restrooms in America. Of course, we stayed mostly in well-developed, touristy areas, so who knows what lavatories in other parts of the city are like. The biggest shortcoming of Chinese public restrooms — the lack of toilet paper — remains for the most part. Some places have it, but mostly it’s still BYOTP. The other trademark of Chines restrooms — the squat toilet — remains as well. I think that’s more a sign of cultural differences than anything. The nicest public restrooms we saw had automatic urinals, sensor-activated faucets, gorgeous sinks, and hand dryers, and yet still had squat toilets. I don’t mind the squat toilets as much as I mind the fact that faucets at many public restrooms had very low water pressure – almost a trickle at some places — and no hot water even though it was frigid outside. Also, there were no paper towels at most public facilities, and the hand dryers, when there was one, only worked less than half the time.

Customer Service

One big change I’ve noticed from when I was last in China is the increased number of smiling faces from service personnel. It used to be that you should be thankful to get service, much less expect a smile or any pleasantries. So far on this trip, the waiters, hostesses, porters, doormen, and sales clerks have been mostly courteous and smiling, and I’ve heard “Thank you” everywhere.

There are still some traces of the old tendencies here and there, however. For instance, when we walked into our hotel for the first time, we were witness to a shouting match at the front desk. A man, presumably a customer or would-be customer, was yelling at a woman — perhaps a supervisor of some sort — who was telling him, to no avail, “We’re trying to take care of it for you now.” She wasn’t quite as loud as he was, but there was no mistaking her demeanor and words for the restrained, “would like to punch you in the face but can’t because you’re a customer” smile you see in America. At one point, he said something about her attitude, and she retorted, “Well, what kind of attitude would you prefer?!” In the end, he stormed out of the hotel in a huff.

Just remember, in China, the customer is not always right.

Commercialism

Beijing has plenty of  historical sights for tourists, but perhaps the most historical tradition on display is hardly unique to China. It’s a custom practiced around the world since the first tourist attraction came into existence — fleecing tourists. In Beijing, this seems to have been kicked into hyperdrive. Street vendors selling all sorts of trinkets, knick-knacks, and memorabilia flock around newly arrived tour groups like sharks in a feeding frenzy. The moment you step off the bus, you are swarmed and offered a map to the attraction you’re going to, a hat/scarf/pair of gloves, or some sort of Olympic memorabilia. If you’re lucky, the vendors move on after you tell them no once or twice. Some, however, are more “committed” than others. While waiting for our bus after finishing a hutong tour, we were accosted by a swarm of vendors. One woman simply refused to take no for an answer, perhaps because she thought that Courtney, being a foreigner, might be talked into a purchase. She was peddling Olympic-themed trinket and was offering us a big handful for 10 yuan ($1.50). We kept saying no, and she kept adding more stuff to the deal, pulling out one pack of Olympic crap after another from her seemingly bottomless backpack. “If I sell it all, then I can go home,” she kept saying.

Alas, her doggedness went unrewarded. Sometimes, we are told, while one vendor tries to hard sell you on something, somebody else would sneak up behind you and swipe your wallet or slice open the bottom of your purse. So if you ever find yourself in a swarm of vendors, be extra careful.

The rampant commercialism wasn’t limited only to independent street vendors. The travel agencies, and the government, are in on it, too. For instance, our tour guides in Beijing took us to several places that were designed specifically to get tourists to spend money: a jade-carving factory (and gift shop), a cloisonne factory (and gift shop), a Chinese pharmacy (where doctors offered diagnoses and wrote prescriptions that can be filled in the drug store downstairs, while others offered massages for 10 yuans), and  a Chinese foot massage school (10 yuans a person). As we found out from talking to the bus driver, the travel agencies get a kickback for every group they send to these places. The kickback is a pretty important source of income for the agencies, as they aren’t making much money off the actual cost of the tour, since they have to keep their packages’ prices down to get people to sign up.

Flying in China

In addition to all the good things it does, Air China also serves water in pre-packaged, Jello-esque cups.

Compared to its American counterparts, Air China absolutely rocks, and not just because it serves squid as part of your in-flight meal. We took Air China flights from Tokyo to Beijing and from Beijing to Xi’an, which took four and two hours respectively. We were served lunch on both flights, with multiple drink services. Compare that to American flights, where unless you’re on the plane for half the day, you’re lucky to get a cup of soda and some pretzels. The Air China p lanes also had in-flight entertainment on their monitors despite the short duration of the flights. Each seat also had a pillow, a blanket, and a headset resembling a toy stethoscope when you come on board (no need to ask for those things). The rows of seats felt slightly closer together than on U.S. planes, but it’s one of those things where airplane seats anywhere are cramped, and one inch won’t really make a difference. The only real complaint I had was the luggage policy. Each economy-class passenger only gets one checked luggage no more than 44 pounds and one piece of carry-on no more than 11 pounds. There also didn’t seem to be much overhead luggage space, as I barely fit my carr-on suitcase into one of the compartments on my flight from Tokyo.

Beijing Capital Airport

The airport in Beijing is just magnificent. It’s huge and boasts an impressive, all-glass design. The best part: No lines, at least not while we were there. When our flight from Tokyo arrived on Sunday afternoon, we spent more time on the tram to get to luggage claim than we did waiting in line for immigration and customs — a huge departure from the Tokyo airport. When we left Beijing for Xi’an this morning, we left the hotel at 8 a.m. for a 10:50 a.m. flight. We arrived at the airport at 9 a.m., and by 9:25, we were sitting at our gate awaiting boarding. There were no lines (and in fact, almost no one) at the Air China check-in counters. Security checkpoint took all of 30 seconds. I’m sure it’s more crowded at other times, but there were  many more people manning various stations than the bare minimum needed, making it a very quick process. It might have something to do with the difference between China and America in their perception of time. In America, people expect to be a little late in most things, especially in air travel. In China, when  you say a flight leaves at 10:50, then you should plan on moving at 10:47 (which our flight did). To further illustration the point, our plane moved around the runway for a bit and stopped at 11:00. A flight attendant announced that the departure was being delayed and promised updates. Not even two minutes later, our plane was speeding down the straightaway. In China, they called it a delayed departure. In America, it’s called leaving on time.