Slipping away from Shanghai

It was dark when the plane dropped us off on the runway of Beijing Capital International Airport. As I walked down the stairs from the hatch, I was immediately swallowed up by an angry mob of fellow passengers, all of us battling to secure a space on the small shuttle bus to the terminal. My uncle was several bodies in front of me, his head bobbing between others as I struggled not to lose sight of him.

"If I get on here, you got to make it," he yelled back with a seriousness that drove me to fight harder through the chaos.

As I put one foot onto the packed bus, I grabbed a strangers arm and pulled the rest of my body up between the stern—eyed stranger and a frantic woman screaming out to her friend to keep fighting through the crowd.

As one or two more bodies snuck onto the shuttle, the door closed and I turned to nod at my uncle in victory. We had secured our passage to the terminal and after a slow cab ride to the hotel, we were finally settling into our weekend adventure in Beijing.

For four weeks this summer, I was given the opportunity of a lifetime to travel halfway around the world to Shanghai, China and stay with my uncle Patrick Klepcyk, a UT alumnus and associate director for business development for GlaxoSmithKline.

I would have been happy only exploring Shanghai, but my uncle knew we had to take full advantage of the opportunity so he planned a short trip north to the country's capital, Beijing. While I had become semi-comfortable in the fast-paced international hub that is Shanghai, I was unsure what to expect from the capital city of a communist nation.

While Shanghai is a city growing skyward, building higher and tighter to support its massive population, Beijing was spread out, invoking an uncomfortable feeling of distance between myself and the city's culture.

We woke bright and early on Saturday, and after a disappointing hotel breakfast, we ventured the few short blocks to the city's heart: Tiananmen Square. In Shanghai, there were several times when simple, meaningless moments would surprisingly snap me into the reality of where I was; far from home in a communist country, wandering the city streets alone. But the true culture shock of being in China did not fully hit me until I stood surrounded by the government buildings in Tiananmen Square.

The seal of the People's Republic of China stood ominously at the crest of each massive structure, as the Chinese flag moved slowly in the humid breeze. Uniformed guards stood motionless at their posts, eyes fixed ahead of them and undeterred from the countless tourists pointing fingers and snapping photos.

A rush of adrenaline swept over me as I imagined the hundreds of thousands of students who flocked to Tiananmen Square two decades ago. In the very place I was standing, young men and women the same age as I had come from across China to peacefully protest the injustices of their government. As they united together calling for democracy, their communist government responded with military tanks and infantry rifles. At that moment, I had never been more proud to call myself an American.

After crossing under a massive city street on the north edge of the square, I stood in awe of Tiananmen: the first gate to the Forbidden City and the entrance to China's rich imperial history. From the balcony of Tiananmen gate, I stared out over the square surrounded by government buildings; in front of me was the face of 21st century China while just behind me, centuries of China's deep history was preserved in a massive imperial city. As we walked through each gate, further and further into the middle of the palace, I could imagine the emperors strolling the grounds of their personal city, perhaps conversing with political figures or visiting the home of their hundreds of concubines.

The size and grandeur of the palace's architecture and statues was enough to leave one speechless inside the Forbidden City, but climbing the endless stone stairs of the Great Wall of China was a personal moment I'll never forget.

I opted out of taking the ski lift up the hillside and instead climbed the steep, winding staircase through the woods. My face and shirt were drenched in sweat and pure ecstasy as I paused several times to pear through the sun—soaked canopy to check my progress. As I emerged from the tree line and climbed the last few stairs onto the wall, I took a deep breath and marveled at the endless green hillsides rolling into the distance. The hair stood tall on my neck as the summer breeze chilled my sweat—soaked shirt sending a chilling excitement down my spine.

As my hands gripped the smooth weather—beaten stones, I gazed out over the wall and imagined what it must have felt like centuries ago to see foreign invaders rushing over the hillsides and through the valleys coming to attack.

I imagined the countless men and women who helped build the wall over the years to protect their way of life, their families and their heritage. While America is still growing as a nation, the people and cultures throughout Asia have occupied those lands since the beginning of the human race. I was proud to be an American in Tiananmen Square, but I was more proud to be a human standing on the Great Wall of China.