So, there’s been a bit going on since I last posted about our adventure in Beijing.
I am no longer afraid of taking a taxi in Beijing. In fact, I can now direct a taxi back to our flat in Mandarin.
I can order food in a restaurant, ask for a bag at the supermarket, and even have a small chat with the check-out chick. It’s limited but it’s approximating a conversation.
Oh, and I now have a baby on board, ETA the end of May.
I’m blaming several months of feeling a bit ‘ick, combined with two months back in the UK escaping the bad air, for my lack of postings. Also pregnancy has made me lazy, even lazier than before.
After this extended intermission, the blog is back.
Biking in Beijing
One of the first things I did when we arrived for our stint living in Beijing was buy a bike.
Well, it was almost the first thing. First, I scared myself silly spending hours reading blog posts about biking here. The highlights were an American girl’s account of a very close encounter with a bus and a guy who said cycling in Beijing was best described as being in a real-life video game.
Undeterred, myself and my mate Suzy headed off to get ourselves bikes. After riding almost every one in the shop up and down the pavement outside, it didn’t take long for me to go off the budget black cycle I thought I should get and plump for the exact same model Suzy had her eye on. It’s a beauty.
That first ride home in Beijing took about 10 minutes, but we felt so ridiculously pleased with ourselves for still being in one piece, we stopped on the way home for a celebratory jug glass of sangria.
Two-wheeled adventures
Although Beijing was once the city of the cycle, it doesn’t feel like it anymore.
The car definitely rules – even in the bike lanes. So you might be pedalling along and suddenly get a huge four-wheel drive beeping from behind you. I need to learn how to shout in Mandarin ‘Excuse me, this is a bike lane!” That’ll make them think twice, I’m sure.
Needless to say riding here can feel quite scary but also really exhilarating, and so reminiscent of that feeling of freedom I felt heading off on a bike as a kid.
And you end up seeing places you never would if you were in a car or on the subway.
A few weeks ago riding back from an expat get-together we stopped to explore a section of the river and then took another detour to check out a great deli and little supermarket, where I found vegetarian Bisto gravy!
Giving it a go
I’ve met so many people who say cycling is the only way to get around the city. So if you feel like having a go, here are a few tips I’ve picked up along the way. Of course, I am hardly the oracle in this area, but they might be of use!
1. Wear a helmet. No-one here does, but there’s no way I would risk it without one. I’ve seen a couple of mangled bikes sans rider lying in the middle of intersections. As in any city, accidents do happen.
2. Take your time. A few people have stressed this. The bike traffic flows at a very leisurely pace and apparently you are less likely to have a prang if you’re also taking it steady.
3. If you get a bit scared, find someone who knows what they are doing and do what they do. I had a terrible time the second time I went out. It was driving with rain and very busy. But I spotted a woman ahead who knew what she was doing and she unwittingly guided me all the way to our apartment. She will forever be my purple-ponchoed guardian angel.
4. Use what you’re got. A fantastic American lady we met at a newcomers event told us to use our ‘different-ness’ to get the attention of drivers and make them stop. I’ve seen Suzy (who as you can see above has blonde hair and is in the process of finding a helmet) stop cars as we’re crossing the road just by putting her hand out. It’s like a superpower.
5. Lock your bike. Bike theft is apparently one of the only petty crimes you need to worry about in Beijing, but it is rife. There are places near subways where you can pay a few kwai for an attendant to watch your bike. I got my sister to bring a big lock over from the UK – but I’m still expecting the bike to be nicked at some point.
Banking in Beijing
(Or what happens when you lose your Chinese bank card in Korea and have to get a new one)
I was lucky enough to tag along on a trip to South Korea with husband a few weeks ago. Seoul was simply delightful. One of my favourite places in fact.
The air was clean, the taxis were luxurious, and even the food courts were a sight to behold. (UV sanitised cup for your crystal-clear drinking water?)
And the shopping, don’t get me started on the shopping.
After one successful shopping trip, I treated myself to a Boston Creme doughnut from a well-known US chain.
(It’s been a while since I had one, and it instantly took me back to the summer of 1998 when I was a camp counsellor in New Hampshire and gained an impressive two stones largely due to over-consumption of Boston Creme doughnuts.)
So I’m sitting outside the doughnut shop with my purchases, camera, purse and handbag spread about around me. I may have attempted to take a picture of said sentimental doughnut. I then left the bench.
Hours later I realised I had left my little purse with my credit cards, my Chinese ATM card and some cash on the bench. I blame doughnut distraction, of course.
After several fruitless attempts to find the purse, with help from a lovely security guard and a random girl who came round the shops with me, I had to give up. It was gone.
I was a bit nervous about telling husband what I had done. My disorganisation knows no bounds and it was all my own (and the doughnut’s) fault.
However, he wasn’t cross with me. He knew, as I did, that trying to arrange a replacement bank card from our Chinese bank was going to be punishment enough.
The fun begins
So we get back to Beijing, and armed with my iPad I ventured into the bank.
First I had to explain to the helpful attendants that I had lost my card. A bit of ‘pantomiming’ and a Google Translate phrase helped with this one.
Next the very helpful bank clerk gives me a ticket for the queue and a form to fill in. All good. Only problem is the form’s in Chinese.
Rather than try to explain I can’t read Chinese, I sat for a good five minutes trying to guess what I needed to put in the little boxes.
I eventually gave up and with the help of another good-natured clerk, who was happy to communicate through the power of my iPad’s Chinese-English dictionary, we got the form filled in.
There followed much duplicating and stamping of forms, before another helpful clerk, who spoke English, explained they would be in touch to double check my address.
You can imagine my surprise when a couple of hours later said clerk and another bank worker appeared at our apartment door, with more forms for me to sign. That’s how they check an address in China, apparently. They pop round!
Happy days
I finally got to pick the card up earlier this week as we’ve been away again.
And the best thing about this little escapade? My new card has a picture of Jackie Chan on the front. I’m not even joking.