In late May, the Youth Health Centre Peer Education program was invited to Beijing China to present at the World Federation of Public Health Associations 9th Congress.

Then on August 27th, 2000, after a lot of fundraising, myself, Stacey Forrester, Becky Thompson, Danielle Nye, Francesca Chiste and Kelly Dowling (accompanied by her daughter Kylie) boarded a plane to a whole other continent.

After a hellish nine and a half hour flight, we stayed for one night in Tokyo at the Nikko Narita Hotel. While there we suffered extreme jet lag. Each of us was in bed by 4:30 PM Tokyo time and out of bed at 2:00 am Tokyo time. Of course there’s nothing at all to do at 2:00 in the morning in a hotel in Tokyo, as the only channel in English was CNN, which eventually we were bored to tears by.

Then that morning we boarded our next flight, only three hours, to Beijing.

Once in the Beijing International Airport reception area, the first thing that happens is that a pair of taxi drivers approach us, offering us a ride to our hotel for 500 yuan, which is $100 Canadian. When we called the hotel, they told us it should only be 100 yuan, so we have the hotel send a cab instead.

Our first in Beijing was to purchase postcards to send home. Forcing ourselves to stay awake, we filled out 48 postcards to the people who helped us out in getting there. So once that was done, we fell to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, only to wake up at four AM.

On our first day, we decide to go to Tiananmen Square and the Imperial Palace. Instead of taking a taxi or a tour bus, we decided to use public transit. I have no idea what possessed us to do this. Perhaps we were still thinking in dollars when we saw the “12.00” on the side of the tour bus. 12.00 yuan is only $2.50. We waited at the bus stop, hoping it was the right place. What made us worry more was the fact that there was a piece of paper plastered over the sign with Chinese characters on it, which we don’t understand. We stand at the bus stop for awhile, when thick drops of rain start pelting down on us. New we hear a clap of thunder. The comes the flashes of lightening. The sky turns into a deep gray, and the rain keeps coming down in sheets. And we stand in the rain, me in shorts, the rest in sun dresses, for a half hour. Finally a friendly old woman informs us that the sign over the bus stop says that the #2 bus will not stop here today and to take the #138.

So we head of to the main street, and finally get on the #138. We stay on that bus to the end of the line, then transfer over to another bus. This involved crossing the street. Crossing the street in Beijing is probably the biggest adventure I’ve ever been on. You have to wait for a moment when then the traffic lets up for a mere second. Then you can cross one lane and wait in the middle of the road, then you cross your fingers, hoping that you’ll make it across the next three lanes alive. You never know if a car will wait for you or even stop for you. Even the buses frequently run red lights (I was once on one that stalled in the middle of an intersection while turning left).

Our worst experience was when we had an illegitimate taxi driver. On the taxi license, which every taxi driver in Beijing is required to display, there is a picture of the car owner. I looked over at the person driving the car, who was a slouching, dirty man, then looked at the picture on the dashboard to see a pristine looking woman in a business suit. The man was a terrible driver. On our way back to the hotel he clipped the back wheel of a bicycle, sending the cyclist flying and we just kept on driving.

After our ordeals with bus drivers running red lights and stalling in the middle of intersections, we arrived at Tiananmen Square. We managed to avoid crossing the street here because there was an underpass, which I was grateful for.

The square was enclosed on the west by the Museum of Chinese History, on the east by the Great Hall of The People, to the north by the Archers Gate and to the south by Tiananmen gate. Within the square was Chairman Mao Zedongs’ Mausoleum, where his body is preserved, and the Monument to the Peoples Heroes, for all the people who died during the cultural revolution.

Walking through the square, I couldn’t help but think of the incidences of the summer of 1989. This is when hordes of students gathered in the square in a movement for democracy. Then the government was enraged by this and sent in the military, who shot these people and ran them over with tanks. I couldn’t help but be saddened by these thoughts.

However, with our rushed pace, I had little time to dwell on this and we were soon off to the Imperial Palace.

This is where the Emperor lived. With 73 acres, there are many courtyards, temples, various buildings, man made creek and much more. Although we went in a virtually straight line through the whole place, seeing only the main buildings, including the one that houses the Emperors throne.

After seeing the palace, we caught a kabuki cab to Beihei park. I now would like to withdraw the statement that crossing a crossing a Beijing street on foot was the biggest adventure of my life.

Crossing one of the street most frequented by tour buses and taxis in all of Beijing in a kabuki cab is much scarier. Largely due to the fact that we were such a large object crossing at a reasonably slow rate in front of speeding traffic.

But each of the three cabs crossed the street safely. Once we were safely off the busy street, the driver pulled us over and offered us a tour of a Beijing Hutong (which is where people lived traditionally) “For only 80 yuan”. They pestered us continually, and we went no where, despite our refusals of their ever increasing discounts. Finally Francesca said “Take me to Beihei park right this minute or else I’m getting out of this thing and walking”. So they got back on and took us to Beihei park. When we got there they tried to charge us 10 yuan per person, instead of 10 yuan per cab as they had promised. So we handed then a 10 yuan bill and walked away.

While at Beihei park, we took a boat ride on the man made Beihei Lake. From the ferry stop, we walked to the magnificent Nine Dragon Screen. As well, we watched a man making a Chinese ink rubbing of stone tablets that were hung on an outdoor wall.

By this time it was the middle of the afternoon, 27 degrees out and we were exhausted. So finally we decided to take public transit back to the hotel. We successfully made it back, even without the help of our friend who helped us get to Tiananmen square.

After resting up at the hotel for a night, we hired a driver to take us around the city for the day. The first thing we did was go to Badaling to visit the Great Wall. This is the most frequented part of the Great Wall, being closest to the city, and the tour buses started arriving shortly after we did. We had to catch a cable car up the hill to the wall and on the way I felt my ears pop. We trekked for about a kilometer along what the Chinese sometimes call “the longest graveyard in the world”, for all the people who died during its construction

When we got back to the van, our driver came back from an excursion in the shrubbery around the great wall. Reaching into his pocket, he gave us each a handful of cherry-sized green fruit. After smelling it and examining it I popped one into my mouth. It had a rather bland taste, with an apple-like texture. After eating three, I put them into a Zip Lock bag, then into my knap sack. as I was doing so, I heard a “cheep, cheep, cheep”, followed by the shrieks of the people in the back. We eventually figured out that he had also collected crickets and had them in a box. We, rather ineffectively, tried to ask him why they were there, but even after pointing to the words in our translation books, we had no explanation. Apparently the makers of these books feel that “Why do you have crickets in your van?” is a question that is asked frequently enough to merit a position in their books.

Next our driver took us to the Pearl Market, where we saw pearl oysters. We were offered a tour, during which we watched the process of killing an oyster, extracting the pearls, sorting them by colour and size, and drilling the holes into them. Then we were brought into the sales floor, where we bombarded by saleswoman peddling their wares. It was rather shocking to see how capitalistic these people are in a communist country. Not that this was our first encounter of blatant capitalism.

Next our driver took us to the Friendship store. This was an overpriced souvenir shop, selling everything from silk rugs to kites. We bought nothing there, as we were sick of being marketed to by our driver.

We did however eat at their restaurant. After feeding 7 people for $30, we were taken to the Ming Tombs. The Lonely Planets’ Tour Book for Beijing described the Ming Tombs as “about as interesting as staring at a blank wall”. With the exception of the Avenue of the Stone Animals, that description is basically true. Anything that could have been of interest has been removed from the site.

After the Ming Tombs, we visited the Summer Palace. This is where the Emperor and Empress, and everyone connected to them would stay during the summer months. This was the highlight of the trip for me. The whole place had a peaceful, pleasant atmosphere. For $2, I climbed a whole lot of stairs (alone as no one else wanted to pay 10 yuan to climb that many stairs, especially after the Great Wall). When I got to the top, there was a Buddhist Temple with a beautiful statue of Buddha that was at least twelve feet tall. I really wanted to take a photo, but then I spotted a sign that said “Please do not take photographs”. I was tempted to ignore it, but then I remembered how irritated I would get with people who took photos’ when they weren’t supposed to when I worked at Out of the Mist, so I sat and appreciated it, then moved on.

Finally, it was 5:30, and time to go back to the hotel.. On the way back I thought about all the things we had done that day, and I was absolutely amazed that I had been to do all these things. Very few people ever get the chance to experience all the things I got to in such a short period, especially at such a young age.

On our last day of sightseeing, we decided to go to the Silk Market. This is a mix of traditional goods made specifically for tourists and merchandise, such as Nike, made strictly for export.

Using our successful trip to Tiananmen Square as a gauge, we decided to use public transit once more to get there. We had directions from the Hotel staff to catch the #4 bus to the end of the line and switch to the #15. So we went back to the bus stop where we had been before, only to discover a thick crowd of Beijing commuters. We worked our way through the crowd when the #4 arrived, only to see that it was packed to the brim, even so a couple more people wormed their way in.

We decided to wait for the next bus. So another #4 came, and was also overflowing with people, in a moment of indecision as to whether to board or not, the doors snapped close in our faces. We decided the next #4 to come along would be the one. The group decided that I would bring up the rear, using the justification that I was the tallest, and the male, and make sure everyone made it on. So when the next #4 came along, I squeezed the six others onto the bus and hopped onto the first step myself just as the doors slammed behind me. As I turned around I realized that my bag was still outside the bus and I was balanced on the first step, with the door still cracked ajar. So I grasped onto the rail in front of me with one hand and with the other yanked my bag through the door, as I didn’t want it flying through Beijing traffic.

We finally arrived at the market after a lot of help from the rather friendly natives, who needed an excuse to practice their English.

The Silk Market is a totally overwhelming experience. It has a rather unorganized feel, comprised of many small booths that have an overabundance with wares ready to be peddled to us. Gap, Nike, Tommy Hilfiger were all featured prominently, although often times a similar sweater would be sold at different vendors, under many labels, from Ralph Lauren to Tommy Hilfiger. This was not the only suspicious thing at the Market, Stacey pointed out to me a shoe box that read “Keebor”, instead of “Reebok”. We went to take a picture, but a man came along and stole away the box and threw them into the trash. Then we noticed that the famous Nike swoosh was backwards on half the merchandise. It was then we began to question the quality of our purchases. Although to date, nothing I purchased there has fallen apart. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case for many of my companions, whose Silk Market clothing came apart after one washing.

At the Market everyone is keen to make a sale. I showed an interest in a pair of Quicksilver Snowboarding pants, the salesperson said they were 380 Yuan, which is $76. That is a price I could not afford, by far. So I put them back and started to walk away. He called me back and offered me a discount “Because your my friend”. Even with the discount I still could not afford them, so I offered him 125 Yuan, $25. He was appalled at this, but I stood my ground and eventually got them for $30.

To begin with I was very satisfied with my achievements in bargaining, but eventually my conscience wore on me. I looked around me and saw that I was in a place where people lived in severe poverty. Should I have been able to afford, I surely would have gone with everyone’s first price, but I had a limited budget and didn’t want to spend more than I could.

We left the Market in the mid afternoon, absolutely exhausted. After spending the day walking in 37 degree heat without adequate drink, we needed rest badly. So instead of repeating the adventures in public transit we had in the morning, we decided to taxi back to the hotel.

The next day the conference started. During the opening ceremonies, they had a procession of flags. When the Canadian flag crossed the stage, we all beamed with pride. By the end, our flag had received more applause Americas, or any other countries.

Throughout the four days we had a chance to go to many interesting and informative sessions, but at the price of having to endure nearly as many drab sessions. Sessions on tobacco cessation, a major public health problem, were of particular interest for us as the Youth Health Centre deals a lot with tobacco issues. We also found an adult run version of the Port Alberni condom police, which is a program that distributes condoms for free. We got a chance to meet other peer educators, some university aged, some high school aged. The difference between their program and ours is the involvement of youth. Ours is as youth driven as possible, with adult’s as mechanics for our car, whereas they seem to be the shiny paint job of an adult’s car. We were able to gain many resources and ideas that will supplement the Peer Education problem very well.

When we did our presentation, which I was very nervous about, it went very smoothly. When we ran through our slides, people were very taken by the beauty of Port Alberni. We seemed to be a relief to our audience, especially after all the dry medical studies that were being presented throughout the conference. Our audience was very international, with Europeans, Asians, and North Americans all represented. The general reaction was that our program was an innovative, new and refreshing approach to public health.

The conference closed on September 6th, and everyone started going back home. We had our final Beijing meal, at the hotel restaurant, for the fact that we wanted something traditional. My companions had their last indulgence at the Beauty Salon, I got my last pieces of Fried Bamboo Shoot Tips, and we all climbed into bed for our last sleep at the Beijing Continental Grand Hotel.

In the morning we got out of bed, did a final check of the rooms, and left our temporary home. When we went to meet the van that was taking us to the hotel, we were happily surprised to find that it was the same man who had taken us to the Great Wall.

After our short visit to Beijing, we were once more bound to Tokyo on a 3 hour plane ride. Once in Tokyo, I got a chance to satisfy my three day craving for Potato Chips when I found Pringles at the Airport.

We were a bit nervous about taking off in Tokyo, as a massive storm had moved in. Even so, we shuffled into the 747, took our seats and waited. The plane taxied around the runway for an hour, and the rain was so severe that all we could see from the windows was the blurred lights of our surroundings. I mentioned there was a chance that we may not be able to take off, but was quickly shushed, because that was a possibility my travel mates didn’t want to deal with. We had gotten this far, and now we would not turn back. I’m sure that we all wanted our own beds back by that point.

However, we did take off, the plane shaking, which didn’t help my mild fear of flying much. But we steadied once above the storm, and we settled in for our seven and a half our flight. During this time, I finished “Angelas Ashes”, and read one third of “Girl Interrupted”. When we were finally released into Vancouver International airport, it was a chilly 12 degrees out, as opposed to the 27 degrees we had left in Beijing. As well it was one in the afternoon, instead of five in the morning.

Next we had to wait for three hours, an unreasonable amount of time for a flight that is less than thirty minutes, until our flight to Comox arrived. Finally we boarded, excited to see our loved ones.

When we landed, we rushed inside to see our families. I went out for a western meal with my family while we waited for my pictures to finish developing, relishing in the fact that I was once more, back home. Despite the fun of Beijing, and the excitement of an exotic locale, and the adventure of being in a far off land, the words of Judy Garland ring true, when she says, “There’s no place like home”.

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