It should have been a straightforward trip - in my naive view at the time. I had been living as an exchange student in Beijing for a mere 3 days. Eager to join the Kingdom of Bicycles and see the sights of Beijing, I needed some wheels. Bus travel was intimidating - I'll tell you about a bus-mob event in a later post. So a Canadian friend and I are off to the nearest 'shopping center.'

Featuring the proletarian look, the Si Dao Kou center consisted of crude, one-story brick-and-mortar shops with concrete floors, and sold staples like stationery, clothes, food, bedding, and bicycles. Nothing fancy, but very inexpensive.

We decided, after looking at all the bikes, that Flying Pigeon was definitely going to be our choice. (I hear laughter from some of you.) Why choose the Pigeon? Well, besides the amusing name (almost as endearing a brand name as "Great Wall' toilet paper), it was the ONLY brand of bike made and sold in China for many years! Anne and I see the array of Pigeon bikes and a nervous salesclerk starts handling our purchase. With 2 years of Chinese under our belts (learned at home in Vancouver), we can handle a conversation about buying a bike. But he sure is nervous!

By the time we are close to completing the transaction I realize that the big crowd now pressing all around us, possibly 200 people, is actually rubber-necking to see US! Growing up in Canada I was used to wide open spaces and had never been beseigned by a crowd; this experience made me very uneasy, especially since I was so new to the strange surroundings of Beijing. I ask Anne for her opinion on why they are crowding around and gawking. She says "I think they are just curious. I heard someone say Tamen hui jiang putonghua and they seem friendly."

I feel claustrophobic and just want to get out of there. We pay our 160 yuan (about $80 USD back then) and head back to the Foreign Language Institute, riding our black Flying Pigeons for the first time. We bought two bikes that looked exactly the same - more laughter from those who know there was NO color or style choice in those days!

The Pigeon only had 2 days to fly around town after my purchase. Not because it flew apart, but because the cadre in charge of us at the school apprehended us on campus. He said "Xi Zhen, you have to please return your bike to the store as soon as possible! They have another one to give you!" Thinking that someone must had gotten into trouble over selling us the bike, I reassured him NOTHING wrong with the bike. He said, "You have to go back with it right away, please!!" Anne was told she also had to exchange her bike.

Puzzled, we took our Pigeons back to the store the next day. The same clerk was there, and now he was even more agitated than before. I assured him that nothing was wrong with the bike. He said "Oh, no, see that scratch on the pedal." I looked and finally detected a razorthin, half-inch scratch on the pedal, which I undoubtedly had made and told him so.

By now about 30 curious locals had gathered and were also peering down at the pedal to verify for themselves the 'damage'. A whole discussion ensued amongst the crowd about the 'damage'! I didn't care about the scratch but clearly something else was going on, and I wasn't going to be told anything. The clerk just said, "I have an exact replacement for you - here" and he thrust it into my hands. I went back to the school on my replacement Pigeon, feeling that I had stumbled into a situation I did not understand - the first of many!

Back at school I asked a new Chinese friend, one who was brave enough to risk a friendship with foreign women, what this was all about. He laughed when he heard the story and said, "Okay, you didn't realize that the bike you bought was assigned to a Chinese resident. They must have gone to the Friendship Store and got this new one for you!" I was exasperated and asked him why the local store did not simply tell me that I had to go to the Friendship Store and instead fabricate a story about damage to my bike. I didn't like being forced into getting the clerk in hot water either. He said, "Oh, they don't want foreigners to know bikes are rationed here - it makes China look bad!!" I also asked him why we drew such a crowd, and he said "You're a foreigner, and they want to have a look at you. Also you were buying something that is considered a luxury good that is hard to get."

So this was how I found out that bikes in China were rationed - the first state secret blown apart! And learned that, while I had thought nothing of buying something that cost $80 USD, even on a student budget, that sum represented 4 months' salary for the average Chinese and was worth attracting a big crowd. I was now an object of curiosity in a land that kept me filled with curiosity and questions. Onward on my Flying Pigeon!