More so than any place I’ve ever been to, Beijing is a study in contrast - it feels as though the city is continually at odds with itself. 

The most obvious manner in which this clashing culture manifests itself is in the city’s architecture.  Deep in the heart of the city, ultra-modern skyskrapers that prominently feature multinational corporate logos sit adjacent to narrow hutong alleys that spider between courtyard residences.  On the outskirts of Beijing, partially demolished slums are slowly being overtaken by industrial parks.

There’s a huge emphasis on individual health and well-being, yet environmental health is given little consideration.  People seem to focus on eating nutricious meals, and the television is inundated with commercials touting the latest medicinal beverage.  Early mornings find the local parks teeming with both old and young practicing Tai Chi.  Yet spitting in public is socially acceptable, and by spit I mean thick gobs of yellow phlegm.  Of course, there’s the constant haze of smog that blankets the city, to the point where locals go out of there way to comment how blue the sky is on windy days.

Family is an incredibly important social institution, and friends here treat each other with astounding courtesy.  Yet when in public and interacting with strangers, there’s total disregard.  Cars tend to ignore traffic signals and pedestrians, and the notion of a queue doesn’t really exist - at the train station, whoever can cut, push or shove their way to the front gets to purchase their ticket first.

Though my heritage is Chinese, I will readily admit these conflicting values confound me.