Being in Beijing

My experience in Beijing was absolutely surreal. I've grown more and more exhausted as the days gave gone on, but I find that all of that is worth it. I've noticed that many of our planned endeavors are designed for us to spend more money, and I have spent more than I should have. I bought several souvenirs and knick-knacks that I hope I can give as gifts. But I'm bringing home more than souvenirs. I have a new sense of humility and insignificance. There are so many people here, and it's hard to believe that their culture can be so different. My dissonant mind has always subconsciously decided that America is the best, and anything unamerican is gross and tiny. But now I realize that the way of life for more than four times the American population is guided by completely different principles, and participates in completely different forms of happiness. I have only ever been concerned with Western ideals and customs, which I now realize is sad. Being in China has brought to my attention more toils of the human race that cannot be solved with American methodology. And I admire the courage and dedication that the millions of faces I see walking past have to a Chinese way of life. There is an impossible expression of the feeling of being in Beijing. Thus far in the trip, trying to summarize my experiences into any kind of words is too challenging. This is because I cannot accurately translate the beauty of tastes, sounds, scents, sights, or textures into language. Every moment of the day was spent in complete awe at a new experience, all of which lie in a category of extreme perfection. There is an invisible essence about Beijing that is only available to one who is there. I believe this awe is easy to fall in love with, but also easy to grow tired of for impatient people like me. I am inspired and amazed by the short-lived, entirely tourist activities that I was a part of. And I only hope that the memories and feelings of supreme happiness will remain with me for the rest of my life. There is a final note I want to make about Beijing. Sadly, it will be forgotten, which is why I'm writing a out it now so as to preserve the potency of the memories. When I first arrived, I mentioned the difference in scents. The chemical stench of the outdoors became a common scent for me whole I was in Beijing. The smell of food being prepared somewhere nearby was almost always filling the air I breathed. Wherever I walked with the tour, I came across a familiar scent on several occasions. It smelled a bit like food, a lot like the smells that occur when a chef is frying something. It has a tang to it as well as the smell of cooking bread in hot oil. The tang is made my taste buds swirl and beg, the bread smell made my stomach ache with emptiness. Mixed with the mild smog chemicals, the cigarette being smoked twenty feet away, the unique trees, hedges, and flowers, and the cleanliness left by the countless patrolling litter crews, I believe this is the smell of Beijing. This scent had been the most profound of all my experiences in China thus far. It will always be in my memory, but sadly it will likely never be smelled again. That is, unless I want to return.