Arriving in PEK

It's massive. The gigantic triangular terminal building looks like something from the future. White steel girders align the roof while see through glass panes decorate the sides. It's awe-inspiring, breathtaking, and very empty. I tread carefully on the ground, and took my first steps in the People's Republic. 

Passengers alighting from the flight from Narita seemed to be the only passengers in the terminal building, and it was only a little after eight in the evening. I rode the people mover from the international section to the domestic side to the baggage claim area. It took over ten minutes to traverse one of the largest (hu)man-made structures in the world.

Immigration was efficient, and the lady smiled at me as she flipped through my passport, which bears various entry and exit stamps from Taiwan. I was somewhat apprehensive, for there was always the fear of being denied entry at the border, particularly as I have always been a very outspoken critic of the Chinese government. A month earlier, when I applied for entry to the People's Republic, I wrote "Taipei" as my place of birth. That was where I was born. But that was not enough. The lady at the visa office sternly told me to put "Taipei, China". To the Chinese government that makes all the difference. To some, a word makes all the difference. In the section asking if I held another passport, the lady insisted that I declare myself as being Chinese. "Taiwan is a part of China, you must say you hold a passport of China." 

In an Orwellian world where manipulation is information, where an untruth repeated a hundred times becomes holier than the truth itself, where Big Brother is your friend in need and can be your worst nightmare, an individual cannot object or argue. There is no individual to speak of, no individual thought or dissent that can be tolerated. 

The question is do you disobey your conscience and conform without protest? Is conforming forsaking your beliefs and a betrayal of your very identity? Is not protesting a sign of agreement? These are questions that I wrestled with even before I stepped foot in the countries I planned to visit.  

The greatest irony of all is that my Chinese visa was issued on the page opposite my previous visa for Taiwan. A picture of the Great Wall of China face to face with a Formosan Blue Pheasant.  

At the time, I said nothing, but felt this rage inside. This was a test of my personal pride, challenging the fundamentals of me as a human being. Even before beginning my journey to the People's Republic I wrestled with my conscience and beliefs. Technically, my country of birth is at war with China, and I staunchly refuse to buy products that are Made in China (partly because of politics, but partly they are simply substandard and often made under terrible labour conditions). Are my beliefs being compromised simply by entering a country whose politics and policies leave a sour taste in my mouth? 

If this were the case,  then my travels to Burma/Myanmar, Israel, the United States or even Singapore, may have made me a hypocrite. If this were the case, then certainly visiting China (and then north Korea) would undermine the core values of individual freedom, democracy and freedom from fear that I subscribe to. I am not trying to justify my wanderlust or brush over the choice of countries I travel to, but as I grow older I do feel one should differentiate between endorsement of a particular regime and the destination you wish to visit. You are after all, visiting the country, the people (if you can even speak to or approach them...), even though at times traveling somewhere as a tourist means you are effectively bankrolling a regime. 

"China warmly welcomes you !" a massive sign said in English, and the message was repeated in a variety of languages. As I waited for the airport people mover, an automatic train that spans the length of the massive terminal building, I heard soft classical music emitted from hidden speakers. Classical music? Is that not, according to Mao and the Chinese Communist Party at one point in time , western and  bourgeois culture that needs to be uprooted and eradicated? Little did I realise that this would be the first of many contradictions and surprises on my maiden voyage tot he People's Republic of China. 

The half an hour taxi ride to downtown Beijing went without much conversation, except for the initial outbursts from the driver in heavily accented Mandarin I was not used to. I told the driver where I would like to go, and said a friend recommended that it would most convenient to a taxi. "Your friend is so bad! Very bad!" The driver kept on shouting. "(S)he  gave you bad information! Why is (s) he so bad?!" He was outraged that I could have taken the airport express and was somehow duped into taking a taxi. The driver then went on a rant about how bad the traffic would be, how it might take over an hour just stuck on the road. I sat in the back and listened to the strange outburst and tried in vain to find the seat belt fastener.

Luckily, the roads were relatively smooth, unlike the dreaded jams that I have heard so much about. with the growing middle class, large cities Iike Beijing has had to contend with growing car ownership and ever worsening traffic and smog. One measure was to institute an alternative day driving scheme, whereby cars with certain number plates are only allowed on the roads on certain days (Sunday's all the cars can go on the road...). Suddenly,  the driver cranked down his window and without asking just lit up a cigarette. It had been a while since i last visited a place where people smoke anywhere and everywhere, and where it is still common (for men) for the newly acquainted to offer one another a cigarette. Little was I prepared for the coming three weeks, in which every day at the end of the day I and my clothes would reek as if I had been smoking all day. 

I admired the broad streets and avenues lit with neon lights and colourful advertising billboards. The closer we got to Beijing, the more highrises there were. Modern, futuristic skyscrapers all vying to reach the heavens. And if they were not enough, there were bushes of construction cranes and scaffolding ready to unveil even more glitzy highrise buildings. Cities like Beijing (and Shanghai) has in the past decade constructed many more skyscrapers than its counterparts in North America and Europe.