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Our Beijing hosts Mr. and Mrs. G spent part of May walking the Camino Santiago de Compastela. Once they returned home to China, Mrs. G commented that she wished she could post photos of her pilgrimage via her Instagram account, but that it was “too late,” because it wasn’t “instant.” I told her that it was totally fine, that there was even a hashtag for when you post photos after-the-fact, but she didn’t–she doesn’t–believe me. She has always been a bit of skeptic when it comes to technology and social media.

I, on the other hand, totally believe in #latergram. We returned from Beijing about a week ago and jumped back into work and life, but China was such an amazing, rich experience, I’m going to avail myself of a few more #latergram posts.

When I heard that the National Museum collection included artifacts from ancient Chinese dynasties that were thousands of years old, I expected spearheads, bowls, and maybe a phallic fertility god or two. I did not expect to find…whimsy. I found these works absolutely delightful.

After strolling through — you know — 5000 years of Chinese history, we ended up in the “Road to Rejuvenation” exhibit, which covers 1911-the present.

[By this point in the trip, my brother and his wife had joined us. My sister-in-law grew up in Taiwan, and her fluent Mandarin was oh-so-helpful. For example, she could give a cab driver turn-by-turn directions to the Bell and Drum Tower, whereas Mr. and Mrs. G (with their more limited language skills) once had to act it out for their taxi driver. Also, we could now order specific dumpling fillings instead of just “dumplings.”]

My SIL was very interested in how China’s version of modern history differed from what she had been taught growing up in Taiwan.

There was no mention of The Great Leap Forward or the Cultural Revolution. To be fair, every culture rewrites history in its own image, but it was unsettling to have those huge events ignored outright.

By the way, we were in Beijing for June 4, the anniversary of the student-led protests in Tiananmen Square. No acknowledgment of that anywhere, either.

Beijing parks are delightful and are used delightfully. We have great parks in the United States, but here in Beijing, I’ve witnessed a whole different level of park culture.

In Beijing, parks are for group activities like ballroom dancing and martial arts. It’s also a place for friends to hang out and play games and for people to pursue their hobbies, be it singing, or Chinese calligraphy. As my pastor would say, it’s a great place to “bond without buying,” (hang out without spending money).

Ritan Park (where these photos were taken) was originally built for members of the Imperial court. Come to think of it, I think many of Beijing’s best parks were once exclusively used by royalty. They are wonderfully democratic places now.

Quotes from my pals:

Mr. G: “Beijing parks are one of the happy surprises of moving here. They are a combination living room and backyard for most Beijingers.”

Wes: It’s almost like privacy is not the same thing here because people live in such close proximity. [says the man who would never enjoy singing in public].

Mrs. G: “They are the happenin’ spot.” [she makes sure to note that she is saying “happenin'” not “happening” because she is cool like that.]

On my first morning in Beijing, the Beijinger who met me for coffee commented, “I can’t believe what nice weather you’re getting.” I thought she was referring to the sunny day and the moderate temperature, and maybe she was. But she was also definitely referring to the air quality.

We didn’t realize how good the air quality was when we arrived until today, when the Air Quality Index (AQI) went back to “normal.” These two photos were taken at approximately the same time of day, in similar weather. 

The AQI hasn’t been bad (by Beijing standards) but we feel it. Wearing contacts is slightly uncomfortable; Wes has developed a dry cough.

People sometimes use smog as a metaphor for, say, systemic racism in the U.S, but I haven’t actually been in really serious smog since the days of my childhood in Southern Cal when we had “air alert” days that kept us from going out to the playground. Smog sucks. It’s microscopic. It’s everywhere. You get used to it.

(The first photo is of the large lake at the Summer Palace — the “Versailles” of Beijing).

Google is amazing, isn’t it? I’m a devoted user of its mail, internet search, maps, and Google drive, but until this trip, I had never made much use of Google translate. The translation app has a camera function that is particularly impressive. Hold the app over the words in question, and a real-time translation appears, even mimicking the color and shape of the original text. But with all the magic of technology, Google still can’t do context, which plays such a critical role in forming and understanding meaning.

The most consequential fail of the app so far was when we thought we were ordering 16 dumplings but ended up ordering 48. The app had told us it was “16 yuan for two,” but really “two” meant “half” — as in a half dozen. No wonder the waitress kept asking us in sign language — are you sure?

For now, the art of translation still belongs to people and their people brains.

In other news, we bid a fond farewell to Kate, who left us for her summer job in Sydney. We also welcomed home Mr. and Mrs. G!