SILENCEThe apartment is quiet at 5:30; peaceful with gentle early morning twilight. I walk soundlessly to Nakia’s room and pause for a few moments to hear if she’s sleeping. Silence. Well, either sleeping or listening quietly to someone who’s up at this improbable hour. I softly bring her door to a close, without pulling it shut all the way. The click of the mechanism would terrify me. It seems to be a fetish or condition I have with which I am not willing to part – I don’t want to wake others up in the morning. Not only that; I’m paranoid and terrified that someone will wake up—like trying to land a bubble in your palm, not wanting it to burst… It’s all about treading slowly and delicately, but quickly too, before the natural course of morning necessities stirs the bowels in the sleepers. I take out my bike like I’m diffusing a sensitive bomb. No sudden movements. Gently, slowly…that’s it. I cringe at the knocking of the pedal against the door frame. Stop. Proceed with caution. A fetish. Cherished. My Chinese name is An Chen. I am told it is taken from a Chinese cliché having to do with the intimate morning hours. Perhaps my naming even hints at this my condition—the fear to break the silence.
AIRThe air feels cool. Almost too cool for my shorts and t-shirt. I wrap my arms around my chest and go no-hands for awhile. It’s hazy, I notice—a combination of moisture, construction dust, and pollution no doubt. But the morning haze is calm. I ride down wide roads normally full of traffic, now quiet, ready.
ROADSo many roads are inviting before six o’clock. They are shrouded in morning and seem tso empty, a bike could hum along beautifully… but I am interested in Hou Hai. The lakes are in the center of
Beijing and I have never seen a morning here.
Normally it’s the night scene that has attracted us to the busy streets around the lakes; the restaurants, bars, live music, stereo-pumping club music, neon lights and red lanterns.
Many times walking a bike is the best option through the milling stream of people, foreigners, street vendors, bicycle rickshaws, motorcycles, and cars.
The cars seem impossibly big to be navigating these small, crowded paths and their honking entirely unjustified.
There is a battle going on in the streets of
Beijing between bicycles and cars. Pedestrians are considered more or less allies to us bikes, but are a different category. They can also have a particularly troublesome habit of stepping into the wide bike lanes on busy streets without looking – or drifting a predictable direction—a vector—and suddenly stopping or switching. No, this battle as a biker is between us and them, the cars. It’s easy to feel somewhat justified as a biker with the noise and exhaust of combustion traffic as complaints on top of the traffic jams. Inefficient for themselves; inconvenient for the rest of us to breathe and listen. I get a sick satisfaction from moving aside for a driver impatiently blowing his horn at me, only to whiz past him half a block later, darting past the jam that he helped create. But I am finding this too vehement… I also own a drivers license. It’s just that some places would be more pleasant without the noise, lights, and horns, and Hou Hai lakes area in the center of
Beijing is around number one or two in this category. This morning there are no cars, just birds and mostly elderly people. It’s peaceful and I am too.
AGEIt’s the quiet that strikes me. There is a slowness to the people walking backwards and forwards, the swimmers in their goggles and caps, the fishermen, the small groups practicing Tai Qi. Maybe it comes with age. The morning regulars all seem to be well-advanced in years. At nights it’s mostly young people that crowd with an air of expectation, seeking excitement and stimulation—the contrast between bright colored lights and darkness, between tight spaces pumping loud music and voices and traffic spreading across the water. Now it’s the birds I hear, and the people are old but seem to me content in their routines. They have an air of knowing. Even the rhythm of the street sweepers seems steady, sweeping away last night’s debris, preparing for the day. For me it’s a new year, and I am older, and I like it here.The sun is a glowing column across the water—a floating pillar of fire. It’s getting higher in the sky now and a jeep swishes past me after honking. They look young, and as if they didn’t sleep last night. They are out of place in the early daylight; but traffic will pick up, I know. The early morning is getting old, as even early mornings do, and the people on the street steadily getting younger and faster, thoughts elsewhere. I turn out onto the now bustling four-lane avenue that cuts through
Tiananmen Square and pick up speed.
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September 19th, 2007 at 4:47 am
so well written! i actually saw what you wrote, and i begin to think about maybe getting up earlier afger going back to Beijing=)
September 19th, 2007 at 9:49 pm
Hi Drew,
Your beautiful Mom and I just looked at your web post. very nice job. What a brave young man, ambitious and determined.
I am enjoying your mom’s company sunning ourselves on the Atlantic Coast and just enjoying each others company. I will keep you in my prayers throughout your trip. If your ever at the “Jersey Shore”, mia casa e tu casa. Keep safe, Angela
Hi Andrew, Thanks for keeping us posted. Listened to your song finally. Really nice. Hope you all stay healthy. God bless you. Take Angela up on her offer. This is a fabulous place!
Love Mom
September 28th, 2007 at 3:38 am
you are really a good writer, specially like your description of” like trying to land a bubble in your palm, not wanting it to burst ” . Andrew, you are the nicest guy I’ve ever met. usually when we cook and have a mess in the kitchen, second morning, waking up and found you are gone without waking us, and the dishes and the kitchen is cleaned. Thank you for your gentleness, I am so lucky to have you as a friend.
I think your Chinese name is so nice and fits you. I am also thinking a old chinese poem “润物细无声”” run wu xi wu sheng” refers to spring rain that moistures the world without making a sound. That’s what I felt when I was with you. Miss you a lot!
September 28th, 2007 at 4:56 am
Hello
Tell please where it is possible to find articles or news on the given theme.
by
September 28th, 2007 at 8:59 pm
I am reminded of your writings about a spider spinning a web across a vast expanse of open space every morning when i walk buck. There is a sign at the corner of the parking lot across the street and this sign is about 4 feet from a nice thick hedge and then some pine trees. Every day there was a web and many days I just walked through the single silve strand unaware but your writing opened my eyes to the presence of the web and then I avoided it. One day last week I say the spider sitting right in the middle of the tension strand bridge, rockin’ in the breeze and the newly risen sun, and I said, “Its all right” Keep writing so we can “see” what our eyes haven’t yet seen. Love, Dad
October 1st, 2007 at 12:49 pm
Amazing. We love the detail. Thank you for describing all of the little things for us. We’ll be following you!