Beijing to Shanghai

The city is choked by smog.
I’ve not seen anything like it, not even in Mexcico City, or perhaps they’re tied. Our days are filled with live infomercials and gray skies. Our nights are filled by a 5-star hotel and the hotel lobby bar.
We walk.
From Tian’nmen Gate, we walk through an underground cross street and my eyes surprisingly, but not really, fill with dark gray water. I realize I miss Russia, I miss Moscow, I want to say "Spasiba," when I really should be saying "Shi Shi."
I realize that I look at a tall Chinese soldier and feel instead the quickening pulse that comes from walking by any Russian man.
I love the huge portrait of Chairman Mao; I love the big public square; I love Tom, our guide, who is a little bit communist, a little bit brainwashed like we all are by our governments, a little bit wise, a little bit shocked when two of us decide to opt out of the non-negotiable "optional" tour and strike out alone.
I feel so constrained, so trapped. I got lost today in the Forbidden City. I am the only person on our bus without a buddy, without a partner; I’m alone as I always am, and so when I stopped to squat in a public toilet, I got left behind.
When I left the bathroom and couldn’t find the group, I had an exhilerating few minutes of joy. I was free! I was outside of the box. The square inside the Forbidden City opened up to me. I saw an old Chinese man scream at his old and still smiling Chinese wife. How could she keep that amused smile on her face as she was being yelled at in public, I wondered? I saw young, god how young, soldiers marching. I was free, I thought. Free from the oppressive schedule, the merchants, every last one of them who accept my shitty US dollars. free from Tom overlooking us like a mother hen, free from the petroleum-guzzling bus, free from Lin with her camera, free from the complaining, irritating, loud, obnoxious Americans .... so free ...
And that’s when I realized that if I didn’t find my tour group pretty quickly, I was going to be totally fucked.
**************
I eat dumplings and duck. I don’t stray too far from the group, because they want to keep us in check, in a line, a number on a bus, I get it.
I buy surprisingly cheap souveniers. I tell a woman selling 7 purses for $10 that she is underselling herself. She can sell them for $5 apiece. Maybe she will come August when the Olympics are here.
Dear god, what are these people going to do when the Olympics are here? How will they explain the everlasting gray sky and factory pollution? Why would they even show anyone around town or even allow people to talk to foreigners when the story is the same as it is all over the world -- we are all controlled.
I drink tea. I am with people and this is not always a bad thing. Maybe I only breathe a little bit after the climb up the Great Wall. Maybe I pretend to sleep on the tour bus so I can think. Maybe my hands hurt right now and my contacts are falling out and I’m catching an early flight to Shanghai and I can’t really see the screen.
It’s still better than what’s going on at home.