Tiananmen Sky

My first trip to Beijing was in 2001. It was also my first trip to China, and my first trip to Asia. I had been abroad in Mexico, Europe, Canada – all of the usual destinations, but stepping out of the airport in Beijing that first time, a palpable sense of something different hit me.

There was something hanging in the air, and I couldn’t help but think, They are living under a different sky. But that night there was no time to contemplate such things as there were more practical considerations like, how do we get to our hotel? Will I be able to sleep tonight? What are we going to do tomorrow?

The next day, the first shock of being in Asia faded in the light of day, and we set out on the day’s wanderings from our hotel. We soon found ourselves in a network of little hutongs (small, alley-like streets that were traditionally residential areas in old Beijing) and of course, got good and lost.

After not too long, we emerged onto a large thoroughfare. I looked up and saw an imposing-looking gate and, walking on, craned my head to see a huge traffic sign with the words “Tiananmen” and an arrow. The feeling produced by accidentally stumbling upon Tiananmen Square is one I can’t describe – it was my first real “I’m in China” realization, it was the feeling of stepping out of the airport into Asia, only from a different angle.

I’m usually not easily bowled over, so when I do find something heartily impressive, I really savor the experience and roll it over in my head again, again, and again.

But familiarity does breed contempt, so I hadn’t been to Tiananmen Square in nearly seven years until last week. I needed a reminder of the feeling of being impressed to be here, a visceral experience of some sort. So on my way somewhere else, on a horribly polluted day near dusk, I went a little out of my way to take some unre-
markable pictures, watch tourists fly kites, and remind myself that I am in Beijing.

It did lift my spirits, it did give me a tiny taste of that feeling of first being here. I was relieved to know that that thing that drew me back still exists, though in a different and significantly smaller way.

I probably won’t go for another seven years, and when I do, I hope it’s still under that sky.