Lost in Beijing

In which our correspondent attempts to get to know the Chinese capital but only ends up learning what he does not want to know

IT HAPPENED AGAIN the other

week… I woke up and for about a minute, I did not know where I was. Instinctively, I reached over to my left to find the master panel above the nightstand, and after the light was turned on, I still couldn’t remember where I was. It did not help either that upon opening the curtains, there was only haze, but gathering enough focus to gaze through that pollution, I realised I was in Beijing. Yes, it’s another day in the Chinese capital where the pollution index is labelled as “hazardous”.

Not surprisingly I’ve found myself in China a lot for business trips these days. But I still don’t really know China. I arrive at the airport, find my driver, and then I am at the hotel. And after that, it’s back and forth between the hotel and meetings. People ask me,“Which city do you like better, Shanghai or Beijing?”And I say,“Our office in Beijing is newer and bigger.”

Because of scheduling changes, I ended up with a day on my own in the sprawling city. And although the air was dodgy, I decided to head out for some exploration. I searched online for a nice place to eat, and thought maybe after lunch I would head over to Tiananmen Square for a stroll. Things did not begin very well – I got the concierge to help me tell taxi drivers the address of the restaurant, and the first two didn’t have a clue where it was. So the hotel staffer went back into the hotel to print a map. But even with the printout the third taxi driver seemed confused. Eventually the fourth taxi driver – and that was after almost an hour – seemed confident and signalled for me to get into the cab.

I speak rudimentary Mandarin, but not enough to actually carry a conversation. The problem is, I am Chinese by descent and everyone expects me to speak the language. During the ride, the driver started talking to me, and I just said: “Bu dong (don’t know)…” but he kept going on. So I just stayed silent while he yakked away by himself. After battling the famous traffic of Beijing for another hour, the cab finally pulled over, but I looked outside and there was nothing that remotely resembled a restaurant. “Nali (Where)?” I asked, and the driver said something I didn’t understand again while pointing his finger in three different directions.

“Heck, I will just use my iPhone!” I thought. So I turned on data and Google Maps and tried to search for the restaurant. What I did not realise was the way addresses are written in China means they are often unsearchable on Google Maps, and so I ended up with eight pins all over Beijing. One of them was in the lake.

I saw a government building where there was a guard, and thought I would show him the map. Before I could pass the gate he shouted at me and put his hand to his left hip, seemingly to draw a weapon. That universal gesture of hostility had me back away immediately.

After that experience, I decided maybe it would be better to seek help from unarmed civilians. But although less life threatening, my dealings with them were equally unfriendly, especially when I tried to speak English.

Finally, I decided to do what I should have done from the start – call the restaurant. As it turned out, it was located in an old temple at the end of a road where vehicle traffic was blocked. After their instructions and US$10 in roaming charges, I reached where I wanted to be, and was seated with a glass of wine waiting for my first course before long.

As I looked out to the courtyard from the full-length window to admire the tranquil Chinese monastic ambience, I thought to myself, that was enough China for a day.