"China's biggest status symbol today is the automobile," proclaimed George Wang, my modest but brilliant colleague. "How ironic that Beijing has so many successful people, all buying cars and clogging up the roads. Because of their prosperity I must commute almost ninety minutes by bus to get to work."

Indeed, riding a bicycle around Beijing is often faster than anything else. I timed how long it took me using public transportation from Purple Bamboo Park in the Haidian District to the subway stop in Dongzhimen. Using just the #107 bus took exactly one hour and twenty-two minutes on a Saturday afternoon. With my city bus pass, the ride cost me four jiao; but I stood the entire time, scrunched together in a mob and all of us sweating profusely.

The same ride, using a random bus to the Xizhimen subway stop took twenty-six minutes. From the bus into the subway took another nine minutes. That ride lasted 26 minutes, crossing over to the mall used four minutes, consuming sixty-five minutes in total. The subway cost three yuan and four jiao for the bus – again using my city bus pass. But traveling via public transport meant climbing up and down substantial subway stairs, crowding into the subway, and holding on tightly as the train rocked through its subterranean tunnel. On the way out I was lucky and sat down but on returning I stood, my feet aching, next to a man with rather pungent body odor.

A taxi to the same destination would cost me about forty yuan. I'd have sat comfortably in an air-conditioned cab but surely I'd fidget because of traffic. In the US I use taxis only if I must; they’re too expensive.

The same journey, by bike, consumed only fifty-five minutes. Because it was my first excursion I stopped often to ask someone for directions or to peer at my crumpled map. Riding my bike gave me a smug awareness of using my body instead of consuming fossil fuels and a glorious sensation of freedom. The wind upon my face made me feel young and brave. A few wary drivers honked, warning me of their presence. Overall I felt safe and in tune with everyone on the road.  Several people even grinned at me as I cycled past, a middle-aged foreign angel upon wheels. 

But definite problems cropped up after I got home. That evening my throat felt as if I had smoked three packs of cheap Russian cigarettes. A paranoid fear of death by pollution overwhelmed me. Later, while watching an old chick flick, I drank five large glasses of lemon water and took 3,000 mgs of Vitamin C before hobbling off to bed. My legs throbbed and my eyes burned.

Santa Fe, New Mexico, my home, has 62,500 residents. The only crowd I've ever encountered occurs on the Christmas Eve walking up Canyon Road when tourists and residents invade the neighborhood, gaze at the religious farolitos (candles) and warm themselves around corner bonfires. Santa Fe, so quaint and full of artistic types, is also renowned for its enchanted atmosphere. The city has consistently won top awards for both beauty and the best air quality in the USA. But it is a place where everyone drives, even to the corner grocery store. The public transportation system is abysmal: expensive, slow and inconvenient. Bicycling is dangerous and considered a sport reserved for hardy souls who venture out only on the weekends.

In contrast, bicycles are cheap and widely accepted in China. Bike thieves are also plentiful; I've lost six in two years. Contrary to the US, cars in China are very expensive to buy and maintain but they are rarely stolen. You have to be rich to own a car – hawking a hot car is not easy.

As for cabs, Beijing taxis are cheap and reliable. In the US I use a cab only for emergencies; they're too dear.

Beijing's public transport system is wonderful and constantly improving. The city's bus system is extremely efficient and cheap: buses numbered up to 600 cost only one yuan; from 600-900 cost 2-3 yuan, and buses over 900 signify long haul buses. Most buses start running at 5:30 AM, stopping between 9-11 PM. Special night buses have graveyard routes that run all over the city. Anyone can purchase a bus pass and receive 40 percent off the bus fare.

Beijing's subway system, the first in China, began construction in 1965. Initially it was designed as a military emergency system; two public lines opened in 1977. These two main lines, the red loop line that outlines the ancient city gates, and the blue line that covers the central areas of the city, cost only 3 yuan. The newer lines cost a bit more and allow transfers. But even with the rapid addition of new lines the metro system remains crowded, especially during the morning (7-10 AM) and evening rush hours (5-7 PM). Since the South Korean subway fire in 2003 city authorities don't allow underground shopping arcades within subway passageways in order to keep evacuation routes clear.

Ah, the pros and cons of big city ex-pat life. How would I ever acclimate? I didn't want to sit at home, watching the purple bamboo sprout. Life was too short. "What am I supposed to do?" I wailed at George my first week in Beijing.

"Use the public transport during off hours, ride your bike mostly in the suburbs, and buy a special anti-pollution mask. Welcome to China," he replied patiently. “The longer you live in China, the more you will love it here.”

(China.org.cn by Valerie Sartor, October 8, 2007)