It was a tough month for contemplating a move to Beijing. June started with the 20-year anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Protests – and deaths. In “commemoration,” the government shut down many western news sites for the week and declared June 4 national server maintenance day. Going forward, each year on this day, the government will disable select Internet sites for updating and technical upgrades. Seriously. As discussions over this latest announcement began to subside, controversy over the government’s new filtering software, known as “green dam,” heated up (this initiative has been suspended as of today until further notice).
In the midst of these front-page stories, my family embarked on its long-awaited house-hunting trip to Beijing. While our daughter’s new school is located in the suburbs, we had initially fantasized about living in the city; however, as reality set in, we reconsidered. First, we thought about our daughter’s new schedule: Beijing school days are long – our four-year will be in class from 8:30 to 3:15 every day except Wednesday. Second, friends and acquaintances warned that Beijing’s legendary traffic meant her commute from the center could take up to an hour each way. And so – not for the first time – we resigned ourselves to suburban life.
Our agent showed us several neighborhoods, which were all gated and boasting significant expatriate populations, as well as health clubs, community centers and swimming pools. When I say we “resigned” ourselves to this lifestyle, I don’t mean to imply I take these luxury, American-style neighborhoods for granted. It’s just that my husband and I generally prefer the city to suburbs and integration into the local community rather than exclusion. While the neighborhoods we visited had many Chinese families, they would not be considered typical of Beijing.
With the exception of the man in uniform following us on a bike and taking notes, the areas did feel very American. Shockingly so. Sales agents showed us brochures with photographs of children on Easter egg hunts and dressed in Halloween costumes. We passed western-style playgrounds and children riding bicycles in the street. Of course, I’m not sure under what circumstances the default striped floors in one complex would be considered attractive, but everything else seemed designed to entice a western audience. And while the new neighborhoods were flashy and modern, those a bit older were already showing significant wear and tear, a reflection of the construction standards.
I experienced a sample of the local rip and replace mentality when I noted our preferred house had a brick rather than grass yard. “No problem!” our agent exclaimed before suggesting we could simply ask the landlord to plant grass. This turned out to be a small concession. Along the way, she told us that walls could be removed, doors added and other renovations considered that would be unheard of in the US.
At the end of the day, our agent reviewed the proposed terms for our new home and told us she would also secure Internet installation, one phone line, and a water cooler free of charge. I was impressed – until I remembered that we would be able to view our favorite web sites at the discretion of the Chinese government and need to purchase air purifiers – at US$1000 a piece – to help mute the damage of Beijing’s horrific pollution. But the days we were there were sunny, clear and beautiful, so I decided not to dwell on the negative. At least for the day.