We Westerners may remember the Beijing of old in which the streets
swarmed with bicycles and few people drove cars. And although Beijing now places
strict limits on automobile ownership (one must have a permit to purchase a car
and there are long waits) cars rule the roads, as is true most places. More
common than cars are electric motor scooters and, as the middle class in China
continues to grow, these have become widely available. So here’s what happens:
as cars and buses clog the roads, slower-moving motor scooters use the bike
lanes, making cycling somewhat hazardous. Bikes (and motor scooters) move onto
sidewalks (when sidewalks are even available), leaving the poor pedestrian
little space to safely navigate. Despite the wide prevalence of walking,
pedestrians are probably the least-safe travelers – often having no choice but
to walk in the roads with bikes, scooters, cars, and exhaust-belching buses.
These problems are compounded by a
dearth of traffic signals and a nearly universal disregard for the signals that
do exist. Cars and scooters beep their horns to warn the bicyclist and
pedestrian, “I’m coming, I’m not going to stop, and you’d best get out of my
way!” Admittedly I’ve only been in China a few weeks, but I have yet to
experience an instance of a motor vehicle yielding to a pedestrian – either in
urban Beijing or Guilin or even in smaller villages in the south.
Many Beijing cyclists use electric-assist bikes, allowing them to move faster than
traditional bikes. Although Beijing is very flat, perhaps people travel far
distances, as this city sprawls for many miles. I’ve been staying on the
northwestern outskirts of the city (if you look on the Beijing subway map, my
stop is Life Sciences Park on the pink line). Getting to central Beijing, even
on the very efficient subway system, takes at least an hour and often involves
as many as five trains, depending on my destination. While traveling above
ground I pass miles and miles of new development – huge apartment and office
buildings springing up everywhere.
Yet it’s only when one is close
to the ground that one can truly experience the juxtaposition of the old and
new Chinas. Clean modern buildings and shopping malls featuring a full capitalist
consumer extravaganza rub shoulders with old-style shops, narrow lanes, and
less-than-savory sanitation practices. If I travel on foot between the modern
office building where The Cycling Yogi is working to the subway (a mile by
road, slightly less by footpath) the route takes me through a dirt path to a
crossing of two sets of RR tracks, the other side of which is a narrow,
trash-strewn lane. A small village of tiny shops, eateries, and street-food
sellers fills several square blocks. Between this remnant of “old” China and
the subway is a modern shopping mall which includes a Starbucks and array of
stores, many of which are indistinguishable from those in any American city
(aside from the language on the price tags).
Very few bikes here are fancy. Most
look old and well-worn. Old-style tricycles (I think of them as truck-cycles), built to haul large loads, abound
and they move quite slowly. Street sweepers move about on these cycles, and use
brooms made of branches to clean the streets. Children ride on the back of
bikes or on little seats in front. People cycle while holding an umbrella in
one hand. Many bikes are equipped with rain covers to protect bike and rider
from the elements.
I was fortunate to be able to
borrow a bike from The Cycling Yogi’s work colleague - the gracious and incomparable Meng-Qiu - who has helped in every way possible (even giving me the shoes off her feet). I have enjoyed riding
her adorable orange cycle with pedals shaped like flowers. Its one
gear is perfectly adequate for the flat terrain. As my feet have suffered from
enormous blisters (the result of a week of mountain hiking in the heat) and an
aggravated bunion, being able to navigate between The Cycling Yogi’s apartment,
office, and other locations by bike has given my feet time to heal before my
next adventure.
