On my last day in Beijing, I took the subway to meet friends for dinner. It had just rained but was otherwise a beautiful night: the Air Quality Index was low, and the sky was clear and dark. On the way to the subway, I was hyperaware of my surroundings: there was the little old man with the equally tiny (unleashed) dog, the young girls (women?) strolling together in meticulously chosen outfits, the grandparents playing with their grinning grandchild. I dipped into the Wu-Mart (the Fred Meyer of Beijing) to see if they had ribbon, but was disappointed; I bypassed the McDonalds and hopped lightly out of the way of the car driving on the sidewalk.
It all felt so wonderfully normal, and I thought of myself at the beginning of my time here: out in the suburbs, too scared to take public transportation, with nary a Chinese word to my name. Things have changed.