Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. — Miriam Beard
Are you an urban resident? Do you enjoy city life? For the past six years, I’ve been a student in New York City, always engulfed in the hustle and bustle, rushing from one place to another, passing by one stranger after another. So, during last summer’s vacation from Stuyvesant High School, I looked for something different: an adventure in nature.
Paul's Out of Eden Walk had grabbed my attention. On his journey, he has mostly been trekking through arid deserts, slogging across mountainous terrain, strolling through vibrant forests, and pausing in remote villages. Paul's stories resonated with my childhood memories of exploring East Africa: safari trips in search of the “big five” wild animals, horseback riding through the woods and across the creeks, biking to catch a glimpse of olive baboons and marabou storks, as well as singing, dancing, and conversing with local people. I reached out to ask if I could accompany him for a leg of the walk. The opportunity turned out to be quite different from what I’d imagined. I admit that at first I was a little disappointed to learn that my trail time with Paul would coincide with his passage through my hometown, the megacity of Beijing, population 21.5 million.
Looking for shelter: Homing in on a neighborhood in northern Beijing to find a guesthouse that accepts foreigners—a daily task on the walk across China.
Paul Salopek
Our three-day, 70-mile urban adventure started at the historic LuGou, or Marco Polo Bridge, in the southwest corner of Beijing. We walked through Beijing’s heart, Tiananmen Square, and finally reached Xiao Tang Shan Town, on the outskirts of the metropolitan area. I was born in Beijing and have spent half my life there. In my early years, I generally traveled the streets and neighborhoods as a passenger in a car. My memories from those trips are no more than vague images of the bigger structures. With Paul, on foot, the city’s details came into focus, and I could readily identify the locations we passed by, but I couldn’t offer any personal insights or experiences from my motorized past.
At first, Beijing seemed much the same as six years ago. Towering skyscrapers stretched skyward, casting long shadows over the sidewalks. Fleets of cars, swarms of bicycles, and the urban metro system whizzed beside us as we navigated the bustling streets. But among the novelties I noticed were many sleek cars with green electric vehicle plates, the incredible proliferation of China’s famous e-commerce economy (phone-scanner barcodes everywhere in the commercial district), and newly built miniparks between buildings. As we walked, the warmth and liveliness of the city came to life before my eyes. People approached with friendly greetings and pleasant conversations when we paused to quench our thirst. Chatting with fruit vendors, I learned of the challenges they had to overcome for a decent life. Watching the elderly singing and dancing in the parks exposed me to their undiminished vitality. Soon I found myself imbued with such spirit—and I joined in for a dance.
Looking for shelter: Homing in on a neighborhood in northern Beijing to find a guesthouse that accepts foreigners—a daily task on the walk across China.
Paul Salopek
Our three-day, 70-mile urban adventure started at the historic LuGou, or Marco Polo Bridge, in the southwest corner of Beijing. We walked through Beijing’s heart, Tiananmen Square, and finally reached Xiao Tang Shan Town, on the outskirts of the metropolitan area. I was born in Beijing and have spent half my life there. In my early years, I generally traveled the streets and neighborhoods as a passenger in a car. My memories from those trips are no more than vague images of the bigger structures. With Paul, on foot, the city’s details came into focus, and I could readily identify the locations we passed by, but I couldn’t offer any personal insights or experiences from my motorized past.
At first, Beijing seemed much the same as six years ago. Towering skyscrapers stretched skyward, casting long shadows over the sidewalks. Fleets of cars, swarms of bicycles, and the urban metro system whizzed beside us as we navigated the bustling streets. But among the novelties I noticed were many sleek cars with green electric vehicle plates, the incredible proliferation of China’s famous e-commerce economy (phone-scanner barcodes everywhere in the commercial district), and newly built miniparks between buildings. As we walked, the warmth and liveliness of the city came to life before my eyes. People approached with friendly greetings and pleasant conversations when we paused to quench our thirst. Chatting with fruit vendors, I learned of the challenges they had to overcome for a decent life. Watching the elderly singing and dancing in the parks exposed me to their undiminished vitality. Soon I found myself imbued with such spirit—and I joined in for a dance.
Zhengrong Qian (right) powers up with peaches on a shady stretch of trail through a Beijing park.
Paul Salopek
Of course, there were discomforts along the way. A sudden drenching storm caught us off guard when we passed Tiananmen Square. Soaked, we ran for shelter. We huddled with tourists under a policeman's canopy. We squeezed our clothes dry, bursting into laughter of relief. After the rain, a rainbow graced the sky, and soon we felt the bright sun again and watched the birds back in flight. The roadside blossoms, glistening in the bright light, seemed more vivid after the rain.
The last day was cool and bright, with a cloudless sky. Apartment complexes and fruit plantations replaced skyscrapers and urban parks as we neared the city’s northern edge, marked by the natural boundary of Xiao Tang mountain. As we strolled in the shade of a corridor of aspens and silver birches, a raucous symphony of summer bugs accompanied our constant chatter.
It was time to say a heartfelt goodbye, with solemn blessings for Paul and his comrades who would be going on.
Zhengrong Qian and walking partner Evan Osnos chat as they set off near Beijing's historic Marco Polo Bridge.
Paul Salopek
Though my journey through Beijing was brief, what I experienced and learned is lasting. Always living with the expectation of speed and hyper efficiency, slowing down to walk speed may seem an egregious act. Although the convenience of a fast-paced lifestyle is apparent (three days on foot would have taken us only an hour by car), the essence of a journey—what lies in between—is often lost with such speed. At three miles an hour with Paul, I was able to discover with each step a new perspective on my city. Returning to New York a week later, a different place presented itself to me, through the power of walking.
Zhengrong Qian is a junior at Stuyvesant High School in New York City. Born in Beijing, he moved to Nairobi, Kenya, with his parents at age five and to New York City when he was 11. Zhengrong loves exploring the beauty of nature and enjoys appreciating different cultures around the world.
