CCTV, state-sponsored TV station
Temple of Heaven, BeijingI returned to Jilin on Monday morning at 7:15am after a weekend in Beijing. We took the overnight train-- not a bad way to travel for a 12 hour trip.
If you asked an American to name Chinese tourist attractions, I bet that most of them would be in Beijing—Tiananmen Square, the Great Wall of China, and maybe the Temple of Heaven. The Ming Dynasty’s Imperial Palace, more commonly known as the Forbidden City, is also there. Built in 1420, it has all of the opulence and luxury of Louis XIV’s Versailles, in an entirely Chinese style.
With 17 million residents, it is the largest city that I have visited. From what I have heard, it has transformed in the past 20 years. To prepare for the 2008 Olympics, the government pumped billions of dollars into development and infrastructure. Despite the smog, the city has avoided turning into a concrete jungle by maintaining trees along most major streets, flowered walkways beside canals, and expansive parks for tai chi, martial arts, and the occasional group of elderly polka dancers.
There are many more Westerners in Beijing than in Jilin—mostly tourists and businesspeople trying to get a piece of the excitement and expansive growth in capital city. It’s about as crowded as you would imagine; car owners are only allowed to drive on specified days (which are marked on their license plates). Many of the main streets are divided by small white fences to protect the pedestrians who would otherwise ignore the specified crosswalks.
One of the more bizarre experiences on the train occurred shortly after I boarded my car on Sunday night. To pass the time before climbing up to my third level bunk, I was reading a book (thanks to David Monteith) by a journalist who studied abroad in China as a college student and later returned to the country as a reporter. Just as I was concluding a chapter about a certain government crackdown in 1989, and the journalist’s subsequent arrest and expulsion from the country, the book was pulled from my hands. I looked up to see an unsmiling policeman standing above me, who proceeded to spend several minutes flipping through the pages. Of course, I immediately began envisioning the hours of intense questions and preparing my responses to the authorities—“No, I didn’t buy the book; it was a gift. No, I’m not involved in politics, and I don’t even know anyone in the government.” He closely examined the few pictures, and then pointed to the one white guy on the cover. I then pointed to the name of the author written across the bottom. He never spoke to me in English, so I had no idea whether he could understand anything that he saw or read. Finally, he shoved the book in my hands and walked away.
He probably saw a white girl on the train and was curious, like many of my fellow passengers. Just a few years ago, I would have been considered a threat to the system and the party, but these days, the government spends much less time worrying about the negative influences of 24-year-old American students. The political, social, and economic transformation that has occurred in China over the past 30 years is incredible. Everyone—including the people—are still trying to figure out the good, the bad, and the ugly from these changes. The impact of the most significant factors—from membership in the Party to the one-child policy to state-sponsored media—is not always obvious to Americans who cannot speak the language and who bring very different assumptions about “the way things are.” But, through watching, listening, and talking with my new friends, it has been fascinating to try to understand.
