Around the World in Never-Ending Days

The first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the airport was the cold. I wouldn’t usually notice a cold winter, but being from mild-weathered Australia, five layers of jumpers and leggings were not nearly enough to brave the Chinese snow. I was immediately confronted by a taxi driver, his words choppy as he shouted at me in his native tongue. Eventually, we communicated how far I wanted to go, and how much he wanted to rip me off.
My hotel was quaint, buried in the centre of Beijing and tucked around the corner from the Forbidden City. The urban noises were muted by distance and the constant, thick fog.
One morning as I made my way to the Lama Temple, I stood crammed among the locals in their business suits on the speeding underground train. I saw in the glass window against the black-walled tunnel, the reflection of a man with a camera phone, taking a photo of the only white-skinned girl there. Me! Before I could decide whether to confront him or pose with a smile, he got off at the next station.
The next day, I walked the long way to the Forbidden City, mostly because I got lost and was unsure which entrance I was closest to. By the time I got there I had been walking for nearly two hours – the way back to my hotel took only fifteen minutes!
The Forbidden City, covered in snow, is to this day one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. So, naturally, I slipped over on the icy, snowy, marble bridge that stretched across the frozen river. I purchased an audio tour, because I had come to discover how wonderful and cheap they were, and so full of interesting facts I would never otherwise learn. Do you know that the Chinese refer to us as ‘Big-Nose?’ Despite the small crowds, there were children throwing snowballs at each other and sticking their tongues out at the falling snow, much like I was doing, actually.
I spent hours there, my ears pricking up every time I heard someone speaking English but otherwise alone, taking selfies with a cheesy smile spread across my face.
When I came out the other end of the maze of ancient houses and temples, I climbed Prospect Hill, in Jingshan Park.
As I stood at the top of this random, man-made hill in the middle of Beijing, overlooking the Forbidden City with snow on its curved rooves and fog clinging to the gargoyle statuettes standing guard on the eaves, I was breathless with wonder. A single thought rang in my head:
How did I end up here?