United Flight 888 leaves Beijing for San Francisco every day at noon.
You fly for 11 hours or so, with a tail wind. You eat three meals (or not); you watch four bad movies (or not). You sleep a little and suddenly you're in San Francisco. It's 8 am, four hours before you left Beijing. Jet lag? I think so.
In the old days, there was also something called "culture shock".
For foreigners, visiting Beijing in the early 1980s was like going to Mars. Everything was different, and usually not in a good way. The people were friendly, but the living conditions were primitive. Foreigners camped out in small enclaves and greeted each other like lost explorers in the streets.
Coming home, you were overwhelmed by how clean and fresh and great things seemed. After a year in Beijing, we escaped to Hong Kong and ran to the nearest McDonald's something I haven't done before or since.
Today not so much.
By 9 am I'm on the curb at San Francisco, looking for a ride. I've been in Beijing for six weeks, long enough to get accustomed to the sparkling new subway that takes you anywhere for 2 yuan ($0.29), or the ubiquitous Beijing taxi, where a short ride costs $1.50.
Here in San Francisco, the taxis are pricey it would cost me $60 to get home. BART, the subway, now reaches the airport, but it doesn't go where I'm going, so I'm reduced to haggling with Super Shuttle.
Super Shuttle used to work. The dispatcher bundled together four or five passengers who were going in the same general direction and the driver delivered them, one at a time, for about $15 apiece.
Like many things, however, Super Shuttle fell victim to the Bush economy. The drivers are now independent contractors who pay for their own gas, and none of them is going my way. "Try him," says a Russian driver, pointing at a van that would be right at home in a Third World country.
Eventually I strike a deal with an amiable, black driver, who senses that I need a ride and am not in a hurry. We tour the city for nearly an hour before heading toward home. We visit some snazzy hotels, but along the way there are potholed streets, shabby buildings, and homeless people pushing shopping carts down Market Street.
Some things don't change. We have a ritual, "welcome home" breakfast at Mel's Diner on Geary. It doesn't get any more American than this: 1960's rock n' roll on the jukebox and photographs of George Lucas making American Graffiti on the walls. Like everything in the US, however, it has gotten more expensive in the past year: breakfast for three, just the basics, costs $50 with tax and a tip.
Mostly I stick to Chinese food, not wanting to challenge the digestive system just yet. I try a dumpling place on Taraval $9 for a plate of 12 nondescript jiaozi and a bowl of rice, with tax and tip. I reminisce about our jiaozi place in Being, where endless platters of superb dumplings, plus a couple of vegetable dishes and a beer, cost $4 apiece.
There's no place like San Francisco "Baghdad by the Bay", Columnist Herb Caen used to call it.
If there ever was a melting pot, this is it: people of every race, creed, culture and persuasion, doing their thing without a lot of interference. They've discovered brothels in the Sunset district, a residential neighborhood. The police are working with the landlord to get the proprietor evicted; no one's even talking about arrests.
On the other hand, Beijing has become a lot less provincial. In the summer of 1981, I rode a bicycle there in short pants (it was hot). People almost fell off the curb, staring at my legs (they have hair). Today, you'd have to ride naked down Chang'an Avenue to get a look.
You notice the little things when you've been away. Fewer people use cell phones in San Francisco than in Beijing. The drivers are more aggressive, but the traffic is more orderly. You're less likely to get killed crossing the street in San Francisco; there's more fog, less smog.
The big things, you don't hear much about. I've been home for three days and no one has mentioned the election. The war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, the threat of war in Iran, Pakistan, and Georgia no one mentions these. The struggling economy hangs over the US like a dark cloud.
Culture shock? Maybe in reverse.
The author, John B. Wood,?was one of China Daily's first foreign experts in 1981. He returned recently to help with the paper's Olympic coverage
(China Daily September 23,2008)
