When the Dust Settles
On the fifth day the sun broke through.
I'd been woken by an unusual sensation. The sunny shafts piercing the curtains seemed disconnected from my last few days in Beijing. A siege of smog was under-way, darkening the daytime sky and rendering all in a murky grey. I'd held back on some of the tourist trail waiting for good weather, partly in hope of those blue sky postcard views and partly to minimise exposure to the throat grinding pollution. Indoor attractions had kept me busy. I'd padded around a few unexpectedly good museums, seen Beijing acrobatics, done aquariums and art exhibits. The murk even held a strange beauty, obscuring skyscrapers into peering shadows and blowing calm wisps across the Summer Palace lake. But I grew restless for blue sky, realising time was ticking by and I'd still not seen many of the capitals treasures. So looking down at the warm patchwork playing out on my duvet I could tell I'd caught a break.
The sun had broken through.
