They say that each day you spend breathing in Beijing is equivalent to smoking 70 cigarettes. Breathing is unavoidable. Smoking an additional pack on top of the smog IS NOT. And so begins the story of how Beijing kicked my ass...
There are a number of things one should prepare for when entering into battle with China's capital and most polluted city. One, you WILL develop a cough. Whether you're a smoker or yogi, you will sound emphysemic within 72 hours of stepping onto Beijing territory. Two, nobody in Beijing gives a fuck that you're cold and prefer room temperatures nearing 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The government controls the heat in China. In Beijing, the heat is turned on November 15th. If you happen to enter into battle with the city during the potentially freezing cold month of October, that's your problem - you will be provided with an extra blanket if you bitch long enough. Three, if lack of sunlight impacts your mood, you're shit out of luck. Unless it's the day before national holiday, or Beijing's pollution levels are 'high enough' to warrant rocket smog blitzing (also controlled by the government), it will not rain hard enough for you to see the sun! PERIOD.
Understanding your opponent's advantages increases your chances of winning a battle. Come unprepared from SE Asia's warm and fuzzy paradise, like I did, and you will be knocked out...I promise you!
On day three, having developed my emphysemic cough, I turned to my wheezing Sanlitun comrades for a bit of comfort. Like most young adults, we decided to ignore our symptoms and ultimate demise. Keeping up proper backpacker traditions, we went out nightly, continued to smoke, and maintained college-like curfews. Out of the nine days I spent at Sanlitun, I went to bed after 3am on six separate occasions. There was the night market. Scorpion eating session. The bar street excursion. The KTB crazy karaoke night, yielding a 6 am bedtime and laryngitis, and, the unfortunate VICS club night...the night many of us lost hope in humanity.
On night six, I was out with the crazy cyclist, taking full advantage of the happy hour at the Den (a westerners' haven in Beijing). Four vodka tonics and pizzas later, we decided it a bright idea to ingest some Chinese shots...not sure if you've ever had one of these nameless alcoholic masterpieces, but upon taking the first sip you realize it's not the smartest move!
An obvious side effect of the Chinese concoction, Henry and I ended up having a somewhat emotional (as far as the British go) conversation regarding relationships, heartache and our newfound freedoms. The brilliant part is, we engaged in this dialogue outside, on the cold, concrete steps of a closed down bar. Such behavior sends an obvious invite to every hard working Beijing beggar. The most memorable was the five year old rose pusher who didn't take búyào (我不要) as an answer. At 4am, rose in hand, having invested one hour of concrete time, we walked home and parted ways. I felt chilly entering the tundra that was my dorm room, sure, but I didn't think about it twice. It was no different than any other November night in Beijing...
I woke up at 6:30 am that same morning shivering to death. I have never experienced a body malfunction of this magnitude before. No amount of hot showering or clothing layers ceased the violent shakes. Two blankets, three hot tea drinks...nothing, absolutely nothing seemed to work. I would've asked the hostel to turn the heat on, but it would've been a futile attempt being it was only November 9th and all.
What followed this event, a mild hypothermia attack as I later came to find out, was an ultimate ass kicking. My kidneys and liver, somewhat essential organs, felt like they were going to fall out. My lungs were so congested, I couldn't take a single deep breath without wheezing and coughing uncontrollably. Then there were the chills...the runny nose...followed by more violent coughing and stabbing chest pains.
I quit smoking immediately, of course, but at this point it was a bit late to pull out my healthy moves. Three and a half packs a day just breathing...the opponent had me at an advantage for sure!
In the battle of Masa vs Beijing, I suffered a serious beat down. I finally left the place, loss in hand, 9 days after arriving in China. I barely remember the departure in my fever ridden state. I know Henry helped me get a cab to the train station. I know I showed the cabbie my train ticket. I know I must've somehow found my way and made it to the platform. I barely recall the 12 hour train ride to PingYao, but I do know the nice Chinese family I shared a soft sleeper cabin with kept feeding me medicine, pouring me tea, and showing some citrus tasting fruits down my throat...all this as they continuously lit and smoked cigarettes IN our cabin, of course.
Every time I hear a person choking back a nasty cough in China, I assume they too must be recovering from a Beijing battle. Beijing certainly holds the title from my fight.The city chewed me up, spit me out, and sent me on my way...I ran as fast as I could, defeated, tired, and half dead.. a knockout win, if I've ever seen one!
As proud as I am, I'm not certain I'd ever be willing or able to try and win the title back...there are other warmer, sunnier, friendlier cities in China. Beijing can have its trophy case. I just hope some iron lunged Chinese Sinatra doesn't decide to write a song about making it there...
There are a number of things one should prepare for when entering into battle with China's capital and most polluted city. One, you WILL develop a cough. Whether you're a smoker or yogi, you will sound emphysemic within 72 hours of stepping onto Beijing territory. Two, nobody in Beijing gives a fuck that you're cold and prefer room temperatures nearing 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The government controls the heat in China. In Beijing, the heat is turned on November 15th. If you happen to enter into battle with the city during the potentially freezing cold month of October, that's your problem - you will be provided with an extra blanket if you bitch long enough. Three, if lack of sunlight impacts your mood, you're shit out of luck. Unless it's the day before national holiday, or Beijing's pollution levels are 'high enough' to warrant rocket smog blitzing (also controlled by the government), it will not rain hard enough for you to see the sun! PERIOD.
Understanding your opponent's advantages increases your chances of winning a battle. Come unprepared from SE Asia's warm and fuzzy paradise, like I did, and you will be knocked out...I promise you!
On day three, having developed my emphysemic cough, I turned to my wheezing Sanlitun comrades for a bit of comfort. Like most young adults, we decided to ignore our symptoms and ultimate demise. Keeping up proper backpacker traditions, we went out nightly, continued to smoke, and maintained college-like curfews. Out of the nine days I spent at Sanlitun, I went to bed after 3am on six separate occasions. There was the night market. Scorpion eating session. The bar street excursion. The KTB crazy karaoke night, yielding a 6 am bedtime and laryngitis, and, the unfortunate VICS club night...the night many of us lost hope in humanity.
On night six, I was out with the crazy cyclist, taking full advantage of the happy hour at the Den (a westerners' haven in Beijing). Four vodka tonics and pizzas later, we decided it a bright idea to ingest some Chinese shots...not sure if you've ever had one of these nameless alcoholic masterpieces, but upon taking the first sip you realize it's not the smartest move!
An obvious side effect of the Chinese concoction, Henry and I ended up having a somewhat emotional (as far as the British go) conversation regarding relationships, heartache and our newfound freedoms. The brilliant part is, we engaged in this dialogue outside, on the cold, concrete steps of a closed down bar. Such behavior sends an obvious invite to every hard working Beijing beggar. The most memorable was the five year old rose pusher who didn't take búyào (我不要) as an answer. At 4am, rose in hand, having invested one hour of concrete time, we walked home and parted ways. I felt chilly entering the tundra that was my dorm room, sure, but I didn't think about it twice. It was no different than any other November night in Beijing...
I woke up at 6:30 am that same morning shivering to death. I have never experienced a body malfunction of this magnitude before. No amount of hot showering or clothing layers ceased the violent shakes. Two blankets, three hot tea drinks...nothing, absolutely nothing seemed to work. I would've asked the hostel to turn the heat on, but it would've been a futile attempt being it was only November 9th and all.
What followed this event, a mild hypothermia attack as I later came to find out, was an ultimate ass kicking. My kidneys and liver, somewhat essential organs, felt like they were going to fall out. My lungs were so congested, I couldn't take a single deep breath without wheezing and coughing uncontrollably. Then there were the chills...the runny nose...followed by more violent coughing and stabbing chest pains.
I quit smoking immediately, of course, but at this point it was a bit late to pull out my healthy moves. Three and a half packs a day just breathing...the opponent had me at an advantage for sure!
In the battle of Masa vs Beijing, I suffered a serious beat down. I finally left the place, loss in hand, 9 days after arriving in China. I barely remember the departure in my fever ridden state. I know Henry helped me get a cab to the train station. I know I showed the cabbie my train ticket. I know I must've somehow found my way and made it to the platform. I barely recall the 12 hour train ride to PingYao, but I do know the nice Chinese family I shared a soft sleeper cabin with kept feeding me medicine, pouring me tea, and showing some citrus tasting fruits down my throat...all this as they continuously lit and smoked cigarettes IN our cabin, of course.
Every time I hear a person choking back a nasty cough in China, I assume they too must be recovering from a Beijing battle. Beijing certainly holds the title from my fight.The city chewed me up, spit me out, and sent me on my way...I ran as fast as I could, defeated, tired, and half dead.. a knockout win, if I've ever seen one!
As proud as I am, I'm not certain I'd ever be willing or able to try and win the title back...there are other warmer, sunnier, friendlier cities in China. Beijing can have its trophy case. I just hope some iron lunged Chinese Sinatra doesn't decide to write a song about making it there...
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