Beijing – not that different to Adelaide

So what would you do if your husband came home from work one day and asked how you would feel about moving to China?

Laugh, cry, start packing your bag? Or would you be running for the hills?

Well, I’d had an average day at work and a bit too much wine at dinner, so I said ‘okay!’.

At the end of June we finally arrived in China’s capital and so far it has been every bit as crazy, frustrating and at times wonderful as I expected.

And here’s something I hadn’t expected. Beijing… it’s not that different to Adelaide*.

We spent two years in Adelaide, and as young(ish) Poms couldn’t go many places without someone asking us who we were and what the hell we were doing there.

While British youngsters are ten-a-penny in Sydney, we were something of an anomaly in South Australia.

From the minute we first arrived in Beijing I sensed something similar going on – people were friendly, and they wanted to know who we were and why we were here.

Killing time in an English-language book shop I had a great chat with an older Beijinger who wanted to know all about our China adventure.

We discussed everything from the knitting book I was perusing to why Australians eat the animals on the national coat of arms.

I admit the whole time I was waiting for an invitation to a tea house, which is the number one scam for touristos in Beijing, but it never arrived. He just wanted a chat.

I thought it might have been a one-off, but later that day in the confines of the hotel steam room, another local spotted my foreign face and wanted to know if I was just visiting.

When I told her I was moving here, she seemed genuinely delighted: “Welcome to Beijing!”

So it might be dusty and boiling hot, but it’s nothing if not hospitable – and that’s because it’s really just a big version of Adelaide. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

*Okay, I admit Beijing is actually nothing like Adelaide (see the gratuitous shot of Glenelg above), but that’s a whole other post.