The Streets of Beijing

It is impossible to predict the moment when you will realize you are somewhere foreign. Not simply different. But alien. Beijing, like most cities, can lull you into a sense of familiarity. A quality of almost-New York. Concrete imagery that seems so familiar despite the 7,000 miles of earth that separate the two capitalist outposts. New York's china town seems a portal to this place, whilst parts of ritzier Beijing lead you right down Fifth Ave.

Yet, there is a moment when it hits you. Perhaps it is crossing the street with a thousand jet-black haired Beijingers (with the occasional Korean's flare of purple), indifferent to the blaring horns of yellow -striped green taxis and looming buses. Perhaps the smell of street food is different. No longer saturated with the familiar tinges of cumin and paprika from the Halal carts, instead replaced with the distinct tangy spiciness of da la or the sizzle of jian bing crepes being poured onto a hot griddle.

Or, it could be the sense of fracture. Of explosive potential and incendiary like growth that fueled the transformation of a once developing nation into a capitalist power house. Where it's newly moneyed citizens gawk at diamonds and authentic Gucci in hyper-modern malls instead of their parents' street vendors who still pawn their Louie Vuetton and Channel down in the Hutongs.

It is hard to describe the experience of being in Beijing, especially during these times of economic uncertainty. As a Westerner who is only visiting here it looks to be an up and coming cultural playground not unlike New York. Yet, there is a hesitancy. Behind every gleaming building there is a ghetto of sorts being unbuilt brick by brick, bulldozer by bulldozer. On the half-finished tracks of a new subway, piles of trash emerge several stories high.

Despite its occasional urban similarities, we have arrived in a place thoroughly new. A city still seemingly in its infancy despite the paradoxical presence of the artifacts of an ancient empire. It is this mix that best captures the feeling here. It is something akin to the vendor's antiques, those trinkets that bear the bizarrely perfect patina of antiquity. It seems that Beijing is an ancient city still trying on the botoxed facade of somewhere far more modern. And while it succeeds in fooling most, we can look to the wrinkles and cracks to find a much more interesting place.