My Neighborhood

I live in a cozy (read: small) flat on the 16th floor, with features such as a screened-in porch, a western toilet, and, my personal favorite, south-facing windows. The view from these windows looks down on a courtyard, where, every morning, kids play and women dance. Sounds like quite the bucolic scene, I know, but I’m not kidding. Along with the kindergarteners who come to school every day, play on the playground, and generally make happy shrieking noises, women from the neighborhood also descend upon the courtyard. As a group, they do a synchronized dance of a variety I have never really encountered to a brand of high-pitched music I can neither classify nor describe (it’s not Chinese classical music, I know what that sounds like). This dancing is a city-wide phenomenon – Beijingers like to dance! During the fall, I thought surely they would take a hiatus during the cold, windy winter, but nope. Like Rocky, they brave sub-zero temperatures, and they're out there every morning, smiling, twirling, and moving their middle-aged hips. Kudos to the dancers, who make the neighborhood happier!

I can say that I truly like my neighborhood (propaganda notwithstanding - see below). It's a fairly old neighborhood, yet with modern and foreign influences noticeably creeping in. Purists may turn up their nose, but, in my opinion, it’s not an altogether bad trend, at least for a bumbling ex-pat like myself. When I feel like having some good ol’ spaghetti and tomato sauce, for example, there's Jenny Lou's, the foreign grocer, not far from me. Also, the shuttle stop, which I often catch to teach international students, is conveniently nearby.

Thanks For Telling Me What To Do

Without signs like these, how would I know what to do?

The Air

One unfortunate fact about Beijing is its very poor air quality, officially the worst in the world, in fact. A day without clouds does not necessarily mean you will see the sky. It's gross. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

The China Open

There is a little-known tournament on the professional tennis circuit called the China Open, played here in Beijing. Because it immediately followed the U.S. Open this year, a lot of the top players who might have come otherwise were too tired to immediately fly to the other side of the world. Federer or no Federer, I was able to go one evening and see one of my favorite players play.

A couple friends, Natasha and Vinny, and I arrived at the stadium half-way through the first match of the double-header, in which the top seed, Ljubicic, was cruising through his match. When it ended, he signed a few balls and launched them up into the stands, and, as luck would have it, one of those balls landed directly into my hands. To this day, I haven't figured out how he aimed so well.

During the intermission, as we waited around bouncing our new ball, Natasha suddenly remembered: “Last year,” she said, “you could turn those balls in for something, like a Citizen watch or something.” Ooh, intriguing, I thought, I was happy just to watch tennis, but there might be a souvenir too!

After asking around, one of the ticket people indicated that, indeed, there is a prize. He leads me around the stadium, to a tent, and presents me with a . . . white baseball-style cap with a Lacoste alligator on the front. Suppressing my disappointment, I walked back with prize in hand, trying to recall if I knew anyone who likes white hats with alligators.

Neither Natasha nor Vinny, I soon found out, likes those sort of hats. The second match had already started when I returned, featuring a guy named Gremelmayr and a guy named Baghdatis. Wait a minute! Baghdatis, the fun-loving Cypriot who, last time I saw him play (on TV), made a valiant, gut-wrenching effort against the mighty Federer. I like this guy and was psyched to be watching him play! Unlike the first one, this was a close, well-fought match, and the players split the first two sets. Meanwhile, as I sat holding the unusable white hat, an idea suddenly struck me: wouldn’t the hat make a nice surface for an autograph?

I tried my darnedest to sneak my way down to the expensive seats immediately after Baghdatis completed his comeback victory in the last set tie-breaker. But no tennis ball-launching after this match, and, when I arrived on the floor, nobody was there. No worries, I thought, I’ll just wait outside the exit for him. Two hours later, to delight of me and a handful of other patient Baghdatis groupies, our hero emerged. I had prepared painstakingly for this very moment, hat and marker in hand, and had even learned a few Cypriot phrases from Natasha. He was either too tired to respond to the overtures of congratulations in his native tongue or, more likely, didn't understand them. He was kind enough, however, to sign the white alligator hat, and, thus, the night decidedly ended with a victory on multiple fronts.

p.s. Baghdatis eventually went on to win the tournament, his first ever professional title!