Beijing Trip

We cruised down 5th avenue. The bus lumbered around a corner. I was travelling for the second time with the Chinese National Baseball Team. I glanced around the bus and recognized the players, the coaches, my dad included, and Kang Kang, a journalist from China Central Television. Enthralled in my first visit to New York, I sat; taking it all in. “Beijing is better.” Said a voice behind me. I turned to see Kang Kang grinning back at me. I was utterly confused, “Much cleaner, much safer,” he continued. I detected a slight hopeful tone in his voice, almost melancholy. I casually pushed the comment aside. “No way was he right!”
Flash forward two months later. I sit across from a complete stranger; the only empty seat in the building, eating my McDonald’s chicken nuggets. People swarm in and out of the fast-food restaurant. At that moment, it sunk in. “I am in Beijing.” Beijing was nothing how I imagined, and now I believed Kang Kang. Beijing was the busiest, most-crowded, strangest city I had ever visited. But also the cleanest, safest, and most authentic city I’d ever seen. For the first 12 days of my vacation, I piled in and out of subway cars, watched endless baseball games, and ate the Chinese version of ballpark food. I was truly living the city life. Two days later, I visited Tian’anmen Square, the Summer Palace, and the Great Wall. My China trip was really a once in a lifetime event. Beijing during the Olympics was beautiful and welcoming. Out of all the moments I had in Beijing, only one stands out in my mind. Driving on the freeway at 10 o’ clock at night, the last day of the Olympic Games. We saw the glow of the bird’s nest. Inside the great building, the closing ceremonies were in high swing. Red and yellow lights radiated behind the shiny twisted metal. So much had been accomplished the past two weeks. China made its debut and dominated, winning 51 gold medals; The Chinese National Baseball Team made history and beat its rival, Chinese Taipei in a double-overtime thriller. We didn’t get into the medal rounds and only won a single game, but I couldn’t have been more proud. The van pulled ahead and massive dark silhouettes of buildings, shimmered with a million lights. All of Beijing was lit up. In my mind a faint song played and I heard the voice of Louis Armstrong gently singing, “What a Wonderful World.”