It was best to keep swimming. If you so much as tilted your head in the direction of the bait you were hooked. These were world-class fisherman and when they got you on the line they would not let go until you purchased half a dozen of those kooky Chairman Mao lighters that played a hymn from the peasant revolution when you lit your Marlboro 'Red'. As we drove around the city a curious variety of more sophisticated establishments beckoned us to come with our American dollars. It also doesn't help that Beijing's traffic is on the honor system.
Every intersection is a vortex of disaster because there are almost no stoplights or traffic signs.
Crossing the most innocent alley can be a testament to one's religious convictions when the stray bicyclist or small child decides to jump into the stream. Our safety on these treacherous thoroughfares was in the capable hands of our driver, Mr. Chun. Chun, whose interest in my note taking was a definite give-away of his status as an operative, was your standard secret service type, capable of ripping your heart out with a pair of toenail clippers. His talents frequently were needed to defend against toothless postcard vendors and old women selling condoms with a life-sized picture of Deng Xiaoping on the oh, never mind. Aside from these outward signs of poverty, Beijing is a tourist director's dream.