I booked a taxi for 5:30 AM and the driver was right on time. In fact, he got me to the Seoul airport before 6:30 AM, when the check in desks open. In addition, my flight was an hour later than expected, so I thought I had time to kill as I waited at the front of the line. It turned out to be a good thing. I had only confirmation codes and no e-ticket number for my flight, it hadn’t been a problem until now, but China Eastern couldn’t find the number in their computer. They took me aside and put about 5 people to work on the problem, we even called my travel agent in San Francisco (where it was still Sunday afternoon, so the offices were closed), and they let me get on their computer to see if it was in a saved email file. No dice. I had to buy a replacement ticket. Luckily it’s a fairly short hop and it only set me back about $350; thank god for visa cards. I spent some of my last Korean won on a Western luxury: an Illy cappuccino and scone (the coffee was pretty good, but baking just isn’t one of Korea’s strong points).

The flight to Beijing took only about an hour and a half. As soon as we entered the airport, we were greeted by two larger-than-life Olympic mascots or “friendlies.” I couldn’t help but smile when I saw them wavingand jumping around, so I came up and gave one a happy high-five. Immigration and customs were a breeze and as soon as I walked out into the arrivals hall, I saw a young woman holding a sign with my name on it. She escorted me straight to a car with an Olympic credential and we sped down the highway into Beijing. The whole area is decked out in Olympic decorations: every lamppost has Olympic flags hanging from it, every building has a banner, whole buildings were covered with images of athletes ten stories tall.

But after a couple of days of much-anticipated blue skies, today was cloudy and hazy just the sort of day Beijing has been trying to avoid with their pollution controls. They have taken half the cars off the road by designating days to odd and even license plates. I could tell that this was an even day by the license plate numbers on private cars. Taxis with both odd and even plates were on the road, plus lots of busses, some using the specially designated Olympic lane. The haze seemed as much humidity as smog, but maybe this will be a lesson to the world that you can’t reverse pollution so easily.

Traffic was relatively light for Beijing and we arrived at the Capital University of Physical Education very quickly. A short drive past guards (Olympic athletes are training here) and beautiful sculptures of athletes in motion, and we arrived at the campus hotel. Student volunteers helped to check me in and I was shown to a beautiful hotel room with a marble bathroom and brand new furnishings—all for only $60 a night. The hotel rules were funny to read, though: guests who bring “an unpeaceful feeling,” “fruits that cause pollution to the room” or otherwise act “contrary to social morality” will be refused.

I flipped on the TV and saw an ad for a skin-whitening cream called “White Beauty.” It showed pictures of runway models in Milan or somewhere, then it showed Asian women putting the stuff on to make their skin whiter. I already had the impression in Korea that women there were overly concerned with outward appearance, I didn’t think the Chinese had the same issue—but it looks like I was wrong. What’s more, the idea of whitening one’s skin seems part and parcel of an unreflective Chinese desire to be more Western. They seem determined to make all our mistakes (i.e hyper-consumerism) as well as to imitate our virtues (i.e. social liberties). I guess freedom to choose means freedom to choose unwisely…

For dinner I wandered across the highway to a working-class neighborhood restaurant where two guys were making hand-rolled noodles in the window. I went on my own, which may sound courageous, but after a week in Seoul I feel pretty comfortable in Asia and, anyway, there’s something about the Olympics that just creates an atmosphere of peace and friendship. I was seated at a table for three in a medium-sized dining room that was still mostly empty at 6:30PM. There was a basket with a head of raw garlic in it set out as a condiment. The waiter stood by patiently as I leafed through the menu/catalog with pictures of various dishes. It was a little awkward to have him just standing there, but I guess that’s why they call them “waiters.” The writing was all in Chinese, so I had to guess. I chose a plate of greens with rice-noodles and a plate of what looked like chicken or beef sautéed with peppers. I also (stupidly) asked for “rice.” This is a noodle place! The waiter politely pointed at the picture of a bowl of noodles encircled by little dishes of shredded raw vegetables: carrot, celery, radish, beans, etc. I said “OK” (the most universal word on the planet), not knowing if I would just get the noodles or the other stuff, too. If I got all three it would be too much…and it was…but it was good. First came the greens which were delightfully seasoned with garlic and hot pepper. Then came the meat dish, which turned out to be bacon rather than chicken or beef, but the crispy soft peppers and green beans were sautéed to perfection. Finally came the noodles, and in a noisy ritual of clanking plates, the waiter dumped all the little vegetables inside the big bowl and motioned to me to stir it around. How could I have asked for rice!? These noodles were great, especially with a bit of the savory meat sauce that came on the side. I ate all I could, which was about half of it, and asked for the bill—40 yuan, about 7 bucks!

On the way home I stopped into a convenience store to buy toothpaste, bottled water, and something sweet. The Chinese don’t really eat dessert, but I like a little something sweet after my meal. At first I picked up some dried peaches, but passing the ice-cream freezer I couldn’t resist a drumstick style cone. I ate the sweet treat, strolling through the warmhumid evening, among swarms of Beijingers, feeling almost at home.