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There is an energy that keeps
you alert in Beijing: I'll never forget the taxi driver who drove
like a character from a film, as though he were born to drive, swerving
from lane to lane, beeping his horn all the way, smoking a cigarette,
tossing his head back and howling with laughter as he overtook the
crawling cars and screeched round the corner. But amidst the mayhem,
people practise tai chi, apparently not needing complete quiet and
stillness to concentrate: the peace of mind is, it seems, interior.
And that is why Beijing can be for anyone. It takes a little time
to get used to a place so vibrant and so embedded in its own traditions,
but once you get over the culture shock, the city is open, welcoming.
To make oneself at home in an unfamiliar environment, that is the
thing - to be able to find inner space amidst external chaos.
Losing my way in the labyrinth one afternoon, I found myself in a
half-demolished house. So I put on my pyjamas, had a cup of tea and
made a little film. A couple of passers by wandered in and stopped
in their tracks - shocked at the behaviour of this lunatic, flailing
around in a scrapheap. But after a minute the shock faded away. "Oh,
she's still doing that? Lets check out the next house". All is
change and innovation. Nothing is shocking for long. There's a pulse
to the city that invites you to experiment.
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