September 19th 2004. A couple of days after arrival, I slide out of Beijing at dawn in good company of humming fellow bikers. There’s enough space for all on China’s number one parade boulevard. Biking east for now, between the Forbidden City and Tien'anmen Square, but soon I'll make a left, heading north for the next couple of weeks.





New construction around the capital consists of rather depressing stuff, low quality copy/paste with dorky ‘traditional’ roof details, built with the same level of detail as the average highway bridge, but advertized as the Versailles of the East. Very poor communities too in terms of public spaces: some gated, most lacking sidewalks and other facilities, all of them designed on cars – preferably Volkswagen ("the car of the people") the nation’s favorite (Audi for party officials).






the Versailles of the East



the first sight of the Great Wall, and a crumbled section at Huahuacheng


Surprisingly quickly though, only a couple of hours north of Beijing, I find myself pedaling around in rural China: big trees lining fertile valleys, the one-size-fits-all brick houses, the village people, the smell of coal fire, donkeys, and the rest of the bucolic painting that will keep me company over the next three days. Hardly any nature in Hebei province, every inch I see of it is cultivated, every valley terraced.






at Chicheng Middle School, the entire class sings the Titanic song "My Heart Will Go On" for me



meanwhile, on the countryside...





The Great Wall might never have been a waterproof protection system, at least it served as a road, a very steap one, in difficult terrain. It seems like communist engineers built their roads on that tradition – Hebei roads are good, well-maintained by lots of hands, but steap. Before the end of day one, I am already suffering on a strenuous mountain pass. It takes me only a couple of switchbacks to discover why Bei Jing (“Northern Capital”) and He Bei (“northern province”) make up the northern edge of traditionally inhabited China...





On the mountain passes, there's plenty of time to wish myself a buddy, to try to adapt to the loneliness. In the valleys, the first alienating contacts with the Chinese countrymen, more reasons to wish myself a buddy. But then, north of the Northern Province, well beyond the Wall, finally the valley widens, mountains flatten out and gently roll onto the highlands. Expanding horizons, no more worries, no more wishes.





A Pasta Marco Polo with the first grasslands in sight. At the edge of the pastures of the Mongols - looking forward to meet some fellow nomads...





Jan
September 2004