I have arrived safely in Beijing.

Traveling on a plane always seems like a dream to me. Not quite the waking reality of earthen world but not the suspended consciousness of sleep. Somewhere in between, a portal linking worlds.

I spent the 15 hours sharing three seats with one other person, a boy from Madison named B.J. who spent the early years of his life in a small log cabin in Spring Green. The similarities of our characters included interests in rock climbing and folk music, a mutual friend named Sarah Burton, and enlightenment, resulting in a discussion on time, science as religion, and the concept of the individual in language and math. Perhaps it is no coincidence that we were seated next to each other. Regardless, 'twas nice to find such a familiar friend before entering such a seemingly unfamiliar country.

Upon arriving at Beijing international airport we picked up our luggage, said goodbye, and I wandered away to start my adventure. Step one: contact Matt, the friend I was planning on staying with.

I enjoy airports. While often times there is much worry and hustle in their metal innards, there is also a lot of waiting, relaxing, with really no place to go and nothing to do. I took my time wandering around, looking for a phone. A female airport employee approached me and smiles led to talking led to me explaining my plight. (I can't imagine how difficult it would be to try and navigate this country with as little planning as I subscribe to and no language skills. Thanks to all my teaches at UW-Madison.)

The woman, whose name I never got, was 29 and from Hebei. She sold me a phone card, used her cell to get a text message from Matt, wrote the directions to his place on a scrap of paper, and even set me up with a private driver. With my dear friend Sasha's advice ringing in my ears, "Don't go with strangers," I told her I wanted to take a taxi. She said the driver was her boyfriend, and though she'd been very helpful, I was wary of getting into an unmarked car. She laughed and seemed a bit put out when I explained I was afraid, but directed me to where the taxis were waiting.

(Though I know it's a satirical spoof, the Simpons' Street Car Named Desire song often comes into my head while traveling: "You can always depend on the kindness of strangers...da da da da deet da da da..." )

In fact there were about four different women who offered to help me in the airport, all them smiling and quite kind. I in turn let a woman from QingDao use my phone card to call her mother and say she was safely on the way to Singapore and helped a Russian man withdraw money from the ATM. As the perspicacious Robing T would say, when you help others, others help you.

What little I saw of Beijing in the dark from the airport to Matt's apartment on the 4th ring was very different from the last time I came. There were many new cars, and things seem much cleaner. Matt's apartment is modern so much so it could almost be from the U.S. until you step outside and the concrete halls greet you. There is also that smell of China. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but if you've been here, you know.


Matt and I studied abroad together in the summer of 2004 and he now works for a sort of translation company that converts electronics from English to Chinese. I think. He is "doing the corporate thing in China." While he doesn't make a lot of money by American standards, because he is a foreigner, he's paid about three times as much as a Chinese person, doing the same work, with the same level of education. As he explained his situation his said, "The Chinese people are second class citizens in their own country. And they're pissed about it."

I'm rather exhausted but very happy to here, speaking and hearing Chinese, and learning. Hope you are well! 晚上好！（Good night.)