青岛

Do you know that thing sometimes in movies? Out of some kind of weird turn of events, the protagonist arrives at some peaceful place, a haven of some sort. The lighting is bright, the view a bit blurry, people are tender and calm, the kids are all wearing white, singing. Yet there always some catch. Maybe our hero is dead, maybe dreaming, maybe the place conceals a dreadful secret, and maybe the cruel world around is just about to cave in.

In a way, this is the feeling for me these days in Qingdao ("green Island"). Ever heard of this place? I am not even sure anymore if I knew of it till more than a month ago. Well, I heard German colonialism, of good beer. People told me it is an awesome city. I thought about a big city, very touristic. Nothing prepared for this city, which seems to have everything good to offer – clean beaches and alleys； shiny huge skyscrapers and broad, spacious streets in the new part of town； a nicely kept old barrio, with a great hostel to stay at； lively and not too posh nightlife; a proud yet not hedonistic foreign community; good food; a big park in the middle of the city; great air; San-Fransisco (or Haifa) style inhabited hills with a great view; a small city feeling (This city is supposed to be housing a population larger than Israel's. From the looks of it, I wouldn't give it more than a million). Mostly responsible for all that is of course the population itself, both local and foreign. All radiate satisfaction, mildness... health.

I know what you are thinking – "the guy has fallen prey to the oldest traveler mistake, spending his time in the nice side of town, rubbing shoulders with the plump elites, and disregarding the misery of the rest". Well, a bit. But I have also walked through the poor market, witnessing nothing but calm faces and nicely undertaken dense living. I have been to the police bureau; all clean, few people, and no cutting in line. Heck, I have been to the hospital, and all I have seen were smiling aunties and a laid-back doctor, sitting alone in his room, reading a newspaper at midday.

I am not fooling myself. The experience is subjective, and the catch is there to be found, some kind of dreadful truth. Or maybe I am just dreaming. But for now - does that make it less authentic?

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I am here for the coming days, and afterward it’s probably on to Kaifeng and Xi’an. After I see these two cities, I will decide where do I wish to stay and study.