When I arrive in a new city, the first thing I do is go for a walk. It doesn’t matter where, or if it’s interesting. I walk to get a sense of place, to spot differences and similarities, and to get a feel for the city’s rhythm.
Beijing, my home since March, has been the exception. Upon landing, I went straight into quarantine. For two weeks, my view was the central heating plant and car park outside my window, and since my release, a hip problem has curtailed walking.
In some ways, that doesn’t matter. Outside of its many parks,Beijing is not really made for walking. Vast and sprawling, it’s a place of broad, leafy roads and quiet architecture, of neighbourhoods organised into compounds, where markets have been relocated inside…
