Recently I have been to China quite often. That is, on the 1st of March, I am flying from Beijing back to Vienna for the third time in 2019 already. It has been relatively warm this time around in Beijing. Two weeks ago I was visiting the Forbidden City on a rare snowy day - the grandeur and grace of the magnificent ancient buildings shone in a different light as I hurried through them following the incredibly large crowd. I did not take much time to appreciate it. As a matter of fact, I did not take much time to appreciate anything. I am simply chased around by some ghostlike pressure without a particularly convincing reason and a specification of a destination.
Last night, I went to the well-frequented Mei Bar in the center of the CBD district with two colleagues as a ritual to conclude a long business trip. It happened to be Ladies’ Night on Thursday. There were lots of ladies and gentlemen alike. People of all ages and nationalities, some dressed up and some in T-shirt and sweatpants, some in groups and some circling the bar alone, some innocently having fun and some discreetly searching for something else, some drinking without dancing and some dancing without drinking, some filled with joy and some with boredom. The playlist seems to always be the same - even the live band performance is exactly the same every time (this was my third time there). I was standing there, immersed in the music too loud for one simple exchange of words, holding my old-fashioned and watching the group of tall pretty Russian-looking girls in front of me, and strangely felt nothing but peace. I guess living is a process of making peace, with the world but mostly with oneself. My colleagues pointed to a lady and whispered (or shouted, in this case there is no difference) to me that she is a prostitute named Mandy. Mandy is always in this bar and chats up with men about potential business opportunities. When I looked at her, she just started talking to a man in his late fifties or early sixties, casually-dressed and alone, and I possibly saw some loneliness in his eyes earlier. She had her back towards me so I could not see how she looked. I was curious so I kept looking. About five minutes later, Mandy turned around, went in a certain direction and disappeared into the depth of the bar. I had a quick glimpse of her. She looked absolutely normal. Normal dress and normal makeup. Nothing out of ordinary. Nothing can tell you that she is a prostitute, except for the cards she gives out to men that says, if you want to have sex, call me. The man also went in a certain direction some minutes later. I could not tell if that was the same direction. My colleague asserted that there were many prostitutes like Mandy there. I wonder if the Mandys are living a particularly fulfilling life. Sometimes the bustling of a city gives you the illusion that you are caught up in something important, something larger than yourself. You’re compelled to do something about it. The highest skyscrapers, glamorous and glittering, make everything seem out of proportion. In a big city, you ought to do something out of ordinary just to prove that you are not less than ordinary. Hope we all find a place in this world.
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