ROAD WARRIORS: Surviving Beijing Traffic

All my friends who had visited China told me to expect "a sea of bicycles." How quaint! I thought. Bicycles, in my mind, summoned an image of tranquil, noise-free recreation, and city streets that were gentle and humane.

Such was my innocence. Then I arrived among one-quarter of the world's population and discovered, to my terror, that at any given moment, as I walked the streets of Beijing, this sea of bicycles seemed to be coming directly at me. Not only bicycles but trucks, busses, taxis, push carts, bicycle carts, and the occasional BMW -- a chaotic flood of fast-moving traffic that makes New York City seem languid by comparison.

The simple act of crossing a busy Chinese street is one of the first challenges to greet a traveler from overseas. It isn't only the sheer numbers of people and machines, but the fact that no one seems to obey the traffic rules that we in the West take for granted. A red light, for example, indicates that some vehicles will come to a stop some of the time -- but don't bet your life on it. Nor does anyone stay in orderly lanes, or always drive on the right side of the street. Bicycles are often moving against the flow of traffic, and even cars will occasionally zip along quite merrily where you least expect to see them.

Perhaps the most unnerving aspect of Chinese traffic is that cars do not slow down for mere human beings who happen to be in the way, caught quaking with fear in the middle of a busy intersection. This is a country where drivers use their horns rather than their brakes, and you had better get out of the way. Not even the sidewalks are a safe refuge, since people park their cars here and often seem to think of sidewalks as a convenient extra lane. Meanwhile there is some comfort in the fact that there are heavy fines to pay if you actually mow down a foreigner -- so if you are a blonde or a redhead, flaunt it. Wave you hair like a flag. It may save your life.

In the downtown areas there are often pedestrian underpasses and an occasional traffic cop to make life a bit easier. But if you need to cross a street without these aids, I found it best at the beginning to attach myself to a group of local residents and stick with them like glue. There is some safety in numbers, inching across a busy boulevard with a buffer of a dozen or so people around you like a protective shell. After a few weeks, you may feel braver. Personally I have reached the point of heady sportsmanship, enjoying a fine rush of adrenaline as I enter a Beijing intersection -- the way Hemingway must have felt running with the bulls in Pamplona.

But during your first days in town, take heed. Do not day dream. And most of all, if you are strolling through town and you hear the horn of a bus blast behind you, do not ask for whom the bus honks -- assume that it honks for thee.