So cycling. Originally I was resisting buying a bike. As long as you have google maps and a 3G connection, you can get buses and subways from anywhere to anywhere in Beijing between the hours of 5.30am and 10.30pm. Yep that's right, despite being one of the biggest cities in the world, Beijing's public transport system shuts down after dinner. There are plenty of taxis around but, unfortunately, these are also hard to come by at night time and ... well I'll reserve my comments about taxi drivers for a later post. I secretly quite like the fact that you can't catch a bus in the middle of the night. Maybe this is because it more closely resembles my city of birth, whose population is less than 2 per cent of Beijing's, or maybe it's because my window here overlooks a busy road, where bus drivers do not hesitate to notify unwitting cyclists that they are in the way by blasting their horns. But I think deep down it actually just feels more wholesome this way. It's like the city is punishing you for staying out too late—the little angel on your shoulder gently saying YOU SHOULD BE IN BED!
Where was I? Oh yes, I was resisting buying a bike. Simultaneously, I was looking for some place to exercise, to work off the fine layer of (Peking roast duck-) fat that was starting to envelop my hips. Gyms are surprisingly hard to come by in this place. Chinese people don't use them and, for the most part, the Westerners that want them are paid a sum fit for a monarch in this city. That means gyms here are under-equipped and incredibly expensive. I scoured the internet for weeks trying to look for a reasonably priced, clean gym that was nearby to my office or my house. I eventually found one gym in the basement of the Chang'an theatre and they quoted me ¥2,000 for a six month membership. That is actually more expensive than at home, and here my income is only a fifth of what I was earning at home! Crazy!
Even though I tried my very hardest at bargaining in Chinese and, when that didn't work, my colleague called and spoke Chinese with the gym manager, they wouldn't budge on the price. So I got grumpy (as I usually do when I don't get enough exercise) and stomped off to my local bike guy. That is, a place on the street where my friends bought their bikes at slightly less of a Western-premium than those in the bike shops. I bought mine—a little rusty but totally loveable—for about ¥200. Check it out:
I explained in very broken Chinese that my friend, who had come with me, also wanted a similar standard of bike. The trusty bike guy says "10分钟" (10 minutes) and toddles off. My friend and I are left a bit confused, standing there wondering whether he his actually going to come back. Sure enough, ten minutes later he's back, with a really nice Giant bike in reasonable condition. Hmmm ... wonder where he got that from? And I wonder what sort of deal he has with the bike shop he's standing in front of for them to let him get away with this?
So I'm assuming both our bikes were stolen from unsuspecting foreigners at some point. Bike stealing is a big problem in Beijing, which is kind of to be expected when most people leave their bikes on the street without locks. Maybe this is showing my Western gen-Y origins, by why the hell would you leave a bike unattended in a huge city without locking it? To be fair, most foreigners buy shiny new bikes with shiny new locks, and people still manage to steal them. I hear that many of the locks sold on the streets of Beijing actually have uniform keys (of course! it's cheaper that way!) so that probably doesn't help, although I suspect most of the stealing is done with a trusty set of bolt cutters.
Wow have I really written this much without even getting to the actual riding part? Let's get to it.
Riding in Beijing is nothing like riding in Australia. At home, if you're a cyclist, you must be:
a) super athletic, because obviously you ride hundreds of kilometres a week (and/or up and down mountains);
b) rich, because look at that shiny silver titanium bike that you chose over a house deposit; and
c) really un-self conscious, because ... c'mon you're wearing lycra!
Here, it's completely the opposite. Everyone rides a bike, or at least remembers the time when there were no private cars, and it was the only way of getting around. Cycling is not for exercise, or for leisure, or for competition, it's to get you from A to B. That means you have to do it in a suit and tie, or a skirt and heels, or a silk dress, depending on your destination. It means there's no point in having gears, because Beijing is flat and you can't ride any faster than the traffic, which is all going under 20km/hr anyway. It also means you have to find some way of carrying around your most treasured things, like your handbag (everyone has a basket), your best friend (no problem! they can just sit on the luggage rack at the back!) or your garbage (get a three-wheeler with a trailer!). Think I'm joking? Check out these pics:
You also need to have some way of avoiding the rain:
This is how the world-class recycling system in Beijing works:
How else do you carry your mattresses?
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