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Published: March 27th 2010
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Workers Stadium
I take a shortcut through Workers Stadium on my way to work each morning The roads of Beijing became a little less safe a few weeks ago. A tiny road warrior, pedaling furiously and effortlessly weaving in and out of traffic to the shock and admiration of pedestrians jumping out of her path, became Beijing's newest menace on two wheels.
Yes, that's right. I bought a bike.
As the temperature rose a few degrees centigrade and the sun hesitantly began peering out from behind the clouds, I decided I was ready to cut my subway commute time in half by purchasing an alternate means of transportation. Bicycle shops are as ubiquitous in Beijing as Starbucks are in Manhattan (although, the same can now be said for Beijing). I merely had to stroll through the hutong where my office is located, hang a left at the main street and walk 20 meters before I found my bike. And what a beauty it is. Sleek, streamlined, feminine flowers detailing the silver frame, purple handlebars. Since I've begun riding around the city, I've received many an admiring gaze from young Chinese women riding 30-year-old Flying Pigeons.
My morning commute is now 20-25 minutes, depending on how windy the day is. Although Beijing is quite flat,
the biting winds that occasionally roar in from Siberia make for an unpleasant ride to the office. Each morning I wake up at 7 AM, make myself a hearty breakfast of black sesame paste and oatmeal, shower over my toilet (Chinese style!), and stomp down the twelve flights of stairs from my apartment to the front door (if only to pay back my neighbors who just looove to move furniture at three in the morning). After unlocking my bike, I begin my daily wrestling match with the front door. Occasionally, a kind old soul will wander by and hold the door for me, but I usually find myself pushing the open-door latch, flinging open the door, and rushing out, leaving the last third of my bike to get clanged by the heavy metal door.
I walk my bike through the hutong, pausing to lift it over the old Chinese-style gate at the front of my complex. Without looking over my shoulder (which would only serve to mark me as a complete novice), I swing a leg up over the bike and start pedaling down the alleyway. Some mornings, I play chicken with drivers of pushcarts and tiny, motorized, three-wheeled
Chaoyangmenwai Street
Head straight to the turnabout taxis. I weave in and out of the throngs of parents walking their children to the nearby kindergarten, politely nodding at the red-faced youngsters who point their chubby fingers as I whiz past and shriek "Foreigner!" I am gone too quickly to acknowledge their parents' embarrassment over this faux pas (which didn't used to be the case).
Making a sharp left, I head west on Nongzhanguan Street, pedaling against traffic in the bike lane. The divided highway makes it too cumbersome to cross to the proper side of the street until about 30 meters down the road. My brightly colored puffer jacket makes me easy to spot, though, so I am unconcerned. I make sure to take a big whiff of the steaming sweet potatoes being sold on the side of the street as I change lanes.
Soon enough, I am sailing down Gongti North Road, feeling the breeze in my hair, the sun on my face, and...wham! A taxi cuts me off as it skids into the bike lane and abruptly stops to let passengers out. Unfazed, my fellow bikers and I continue pedaling, keeping a vigilant eye out for future disturbances. Sure enough, a teenager trying
Chaoyangmennei Street
The streets were recently washed- Beijing has been hit by two sandstorms in the past week out the punk look steps into the bike lane on his way to the bus stop. We lock gazes. He stares defiantly back at me, daring me to stay on a straight trajectory. I do. His eyes widen; clearly, he had underestimated this laowai. His step quickens, his faux-hawk quivering. I stay the course. He does a funny little dance step to get out of my way. I pump my fist in victory and coast to the intersection to wait for the light to turn green.
Wait, did I just say
wait for the light to turn green? I scoff at the very notion. We Beijingers wait for no light! We Beijingers go when there is no car in our immediate vicinity threatening our lives or property. When the coast is clear, off we go, lights be damned. Although this tactic is technically illegal, I find it is safer, since if I do wait for the light to turn green, I will be nearly stampeded by the crush of humanity eager to get to their boring desk jobs.
My ride is relatively uneventful until I reach Chaoyangmenwai Street. While the taxi drivers that frequent the streets
Cool Glass Building
When I see this building, I know I'm nearly there near my neighborhood are somewhat law-abiding, the drivers in this area of the city are positively reckless (aren't you glad you're reading this, Mom and Dad?). They view the bike lane as their own 'fast pass' and are not afraid to lay on the horn to make sure that any poor, unsuspecting bicyclist (such as
moi) gets the message. I especially enjoy the drivers that speed around me, only to slam on their brakes and travel two kilometers an hour as they search for an (impossible to find) address. In order to make up time, I pedal up behind a fast-moving young man and begin drafting. This technique is especially useful on days like today, when the city awoke to a sandstorm and the fierce winds did not abate until nightfall. Pedaling against the wind is tiresome; that's when drafting comes in handy.
Like any commuter, I sometimes get bored on the way to work. One of my favorite games to play is what I like to call "Stalk the Neighbor." In this game, I pedal right alongside a young Chinese man (it's always a man), who is furiously texting on his cell phone while weaving back and
Morning subway commute
*Shudder* So glad I don't have to do that anymore. Hot, sweaty, and crowded. forth in the bike lane. I match his pedaling rhythm, rotation for rotation, until he finally looks up and notices someone
thisclose to him. At this point, he does a double take and nearly swerves into a parked car. Oh, the fun that can be had.
Despite my obvious prowess on the bicycle, I have had my fair share of close calls. These usually involve a car door opening into traffic, often by a young woman who is having a heated argument with her boyfriend and is oblivious to anything around her. I have since become savvy to this phenomenon and now give parked cars (even those that appear to be empty) a wide berth. As a foreigner in Beijing, I do enjoy special privileges, one of which is that cars that may ordinarily turn in front of a Chinese bicyclist will stop for me. I think this is out of the desire to avoid an international incident. As I continue on my way, my fellow Chinese riders joyfully follow suit- only to be honked at by the now-irate driver. It seems that once the foreigner parade has passed, it's back to normal on the streets of
Beijing.
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Mom
non-member comment
What? No Bike Pics?
Hi Hon, Loved your play-by-play--or is it pedal-by-pedal--description of your bike trip to work! The only thing I missed was a pic or two of you and/or your new bike. Actually, why not include a few pics of the hordes of other bikers on their merry way to wherever it is they are going. I do remember the huge bike lane when Dad and I visited you in Beijing. As an ongoing biker, it would be fun to see your newest mode of travel as well as a few closeups of the other million or so bikers as they ride and text and ride and talk and ride and take a child or other passenger on their way! Love, Mom