Back to Beijing

It could have been difficult to readjust to Beijing. Many times during the weekend, while eating cheese and bread from the grocery store or finding buyable dresses, I thought, “Why do I live in Beijing?”

There were three reasons, luckily, that answered my question.

The first thing that stood out was the money. Shanghai is crazy expensive at every turn. Ok, it’s still not as expensive as New York, but in New York, I’d be in NEW YORK. Why would I pay next to NYC prices to live in China? At the rooftop “beer garden” at my hotel (the quotes are there because they only offered Tsingtao and Heineken), they charged ¥30 for a small Tsingtao! I can get a double-sized Tsingtao from my deli for ¥5. Even with a gorgeous view of The Bund and the rooftop all to ourselves, it was a little painful to fork that over.

The second off-putting element for me was the pretention. I love a fancy city, but I’m not really a fancy girl. Kelly and I went out for a fancy dinner one night. The steak was absolutely amazing, melting like butter in my mouth. You can imagine my joy, as I haven’t had American-style steak in almost a year.

The problem was, we weren’t allowed to share a pot of tea.

I can guess that you’re not exactly dropping your jaws and flailing your eyes in shock and horror. That’s fine, but this was a moment for me where I realized how good Beijing has been for me. The idea of having to order two pots of tea for two people goes beyond the price (which, of course, was ridiculous.) The point was, we’re in CHINA, Land of Tea-Sharing. China is built on family-style food for every meal, from dim sum to dinner, never mind the drinks. When you order a beer in Beijing, it comes out the size of a 40 and they bring small glass cups for your whole party, whether you’ve asked for it or not. That is the China I know and love.

The third reason came to me later, once I was back in my own city. I went to the Temple of Heaven, one of Beijing’s most well-known attractions. Set in the middle of a large park where, unlike the windy paths of others, everything was made in controlled squares. Unlike the youngsters hanging out on the grass in People’s square, crowds of Chinese locals gathered to dance, sing, and play games. As I stared at the intricate three-tiered cylinder, rising circular out to represent heaven out of the squares of Earth, I was as glad as ever to be living in Beijing. I didn’t move to China to eat delicious cheese and overpriced beer, or to pretend I’m in New York. Shaghai may have that Western feel down, but Beijing has history.