In less than one year, the summer Olympics will be held in Beijing. Anticipation and excitement, growing for a long time now, are steadily approaching a peak. All that China hopes to achieve from these Games, I don’t know. Sometimes I think that they’re looked upon as some sort of symbolic turning point, ushering the country to its long coveted seat as a top-level international power. I am, however, relatively sure that it expects to use the event as a showcase – a chance for Beijing and the country to shine brightly to the world.

I visited Beijing recently. I thought that it might be interesting to take the train that goes from there to Hanoi, Vietnam. Getting a visa was easy enough, but the whole process of buying a ticket proved to be quite a challenge. Upon arriving at Beijing Railway Station after an all night ride, I made my way through the confused throng in front of it, trying to find the foreign office that I had been informed was there. Unable to do this, I finally asked somebody in a uniform where it was. “Méi yŏu.” – Don’t have. I thought that I might have better luck at Beijing West, on the other side of town. The Hanoi train leaves from there and it was supposed to have a foreign office, too. I couldn’t find that, either. I did, however, find an English Speaking window and asked the teller if there were any tickets to Vietnam. “Go to Beijing Hotel.” I asked her where it was. She pointed vaguely. I asked her what it was near. “Beijing Station.” I found the hotel – on the side of town I had just come from – and was told by the concierge that I, in fact, needed to go to Beijing International Hotel. He helpfully called its ticket office for me. Closed. Going there the next morning, I was told that they sold international tickets to Russia and Mongolia only – “Go to Beijing West.” After a brief, tense exchange, an address was written in Chinese, along with a telephone number, and handed to me. “Go there.” At my request, a telephone call was grudgingly made to the given number. Closed. “Just go there.” After showing the address to a scattered handful of official and semi-official looking people at Beijing West, I finally found the place – a tiny office behind the bus station with one very nice woman inside who spoke no English. I did manage to buy my ticket, though – I have learned some of the language. That evening, watching a TV reporter babbling in front of a huge billboard reading 366 Days, 12 Hours, 32 Minutes, and X Seconds to go until the 2008 Olympics, I couldn’t help thinking what a complete disaster it would be. And then I remembered something. Last fall, the university at which I teach was visited and reviewed by inspectors from the Ministry of Education. In the year leading up to this event, there had been much preparatory talk with little visible action. However, in the time right before the big week, everything took shape. Students, teachers, and everyone else involved were encouraged/cajoled/bullied into putting on a good show. Classes were rehearsed, were created, for possible moments of truth. Rules and regulations were memorized, just in case. University pins were worn and hands were folded. A gala revue was specially held for the honored guests and when they finally deigned to come in and take their front row seats after keeping everyone waiting for twenty minutes a long, standing ovation was given. The inspectors were satisfied. The university received an excellent assessment. And absolutely nothing came of it.

I now fully believe that these Games will be a great success. Beijing – China will shine. And then it will return to normal. Just as it’s always been. Just as it always will be.