When we arrived in Beijing, our tour director, Bryan, introduced us to our tour leader, Mei-Xing. She was, I guessed, in her early forties and spoke Mandarin. She climbed aboard our bus with a cheerful Ni hao! and we were off.
Our group was made up of Cantonese speakers, Mandarin speakers and English speakers. Fortunately, the major sights spoke for themselves.
I shamelessly leaked to anyone who cared to listen that my in-laws were from Hong Kong and China. That I married in and belonged. I didn't want to be thought of as some brash American interloper. During Mei-Xing's orations I nodded and clapped along with everyone else. I picked up cues and laughed when others laughed.
Mei-Xing shook her head at my ridiculous behavior. Everyone knew I didn't get her jokes and my pretense proved as funny as any of her one-liners.
Keen to expand his career into English-language tours, Bryan attached himself to Leonard and me. Bryan had a burgeoning confidence in his English — that is, when the topic of his favorite basketball team, the Lakers, came up. Steering him off the subject was a struggle.
Shaq, Shaq, Shaq.
Okay, Bryan, we've moved on to food.
Kobe this, Kobe that.
Bryan, do you think we'll have Peking Duck on the tour?
Derek Fisher....
Really, Bryan, we're on to noodles versus rice.
My first impression of Beijing: trees. Green and full in spring blossom, rows upon rows along wide boulevards. Made more noticeable, I'm sure, after having spent a month in Hong Kong, where greenery was not commonplace. There isn't enough room in Hong Kong for parks and tree-lined streets. In Beijing elms, birches and maples stand tall and proud.
The bus drove us past city parks with artificial lakes, where people paddled in small boats. Whole sections of Beijing looked like Paris. I expected tiny Madeline to pop up at any moment.
My second impression: the cool air. We were out of Hong Kong's humidity. Beijing and New York City are close to the same latitude and share similar climates. It was like spring in New England.
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