Foreign cycling enthusiasts are trying to tell people living in Beijing that two wheels are cooler than four
Twenty years ago, Beijing was a kingdom of bicycles; now it’s a city of cars. From another perspective, Beijing actually has “very good conditions for cycling” and “very poor conditions for driving.” To make the city better, people living in Beijing still need some time to rediscover the value of cycling.
“When a foreigner rides a bike, people think he loves sports; when a Chinese person rides a bike, people think he’s a failure who can’t afford a car.”
“Two wheels are cooler than four.”
There is a group of foreigners who have come to Beijing from far away, unafraid of hardship, exhaustion, or air pollution, and who ride their bikes in all weather—even during those days in January 2013 when the “city of traffic jams” turned into a “city of smog.”
What are these “eccentrics” thinking?
Like Chinese comic fans who love Tintin, Belgian Tom Lanhove loves China and loves cycling in Beijing. Lanhove has lived in China for seven years and spends a third of each year cycling.
He is a die-hard cyclist, with a long list of reasons—like comfort: during morning and evening rush hours, buses and subways are so packed that everyone develops an anti-squeeze superpower, whereas cycling is much more comfortable; or speed—when Beijing’s motor vehicles crawl through rush hour, cyclists can zip right through.
Of course, his fondness also includes Beijing’s bike lanes—almost every road has dedicated bike lanes, and they’re generously wide. The safety measures also make them feel at home—on many urban roads, there are barriers separating the bike lanes from the vehicle lanes. In the eyes of these cycling foreigners, Beijing has more bike lanes than 70% of cities worldwide. And unlike European cities, where bike lanes are often just narrow strips on sidewalks, barely wide enough for one bike.
Korean Chung Dasong, who loves mountain biking and fixed-gear bikes (Fixed Gear) and has studied in Beijing for seven years, concluded after comparing mainland China, Taiwan, and South Korea that Beijing’s flat roads and abundance of bike lanes make it the most bike-friendly.
“The first time I rode on that three-lane-wide, dedicated bike path outside Dongzhimenwai Street, I was over the moon,” Lanhove said, not hiding his feelings.
And Danish Mads Toudnl Kjeldsen, who has lived in China for nearly two years, and his wife often cycle while drawing envious glances. This has to do with their unique bicycle—a specially imported Danish tricycle with a huge basket at the front that can hold a child or groceries from the supermarket. “Where did you buy it?” The Kjeldsen family is often stopped by curious Chinese asking.
Foreigners who love Beijing and love cycling have formed a community in the city. This group has a pretty cool and very Beijing-flavored name—“Tougher Than a Car,” abbreviated as STC.
One of the founders, Australian Shannon Bufton (Shanlong), traveled to China in 2006. When he returned to Beijing in 2009, he saw the terrible traffic conditions and the collapsed “kingdom of bicycles.” A cycling enthusiast, he tried to tell people living in Beijing that two wheels are cooler than four.
Thus, a cycling culture advocacy organization—“BicheNiu”—was founded by Shanlong, local Beijinger Zhao Liman, and German office worker Ines Brunn.Currently, this multinational Beijing cycling group has several hundred members.
They want to show the public, through activities like midnight rides and cycling tours of Beijing’s most famous factory art district 798, that this isn’t wishful thinking—especially during gridlocked rush hours, cycling is the most practical choice.
Cycling has become dangerous
Of course, there are also moments when they give up cycling.
In the past almost suffocating week, British Geoffrey Murray (Ma Lei) first took a vacation in Singapore, then spent a few weeks in Australia, luckily avoiding the smog.
Before this relentless smog, Ma Lei had been cycling for over 20 years. Unlike those young foreigners who treat cycling as a sport, Ma Lei cycled to and from work just like ordinary Chinese people.
Ma Lei came to China in 1990, riding a Flying Pigeon bicycle that was hard to upright once it fell but could fly once you pedaled. He took different routes every day, deliberately exploring hutongs and side streets just because “cycling lets you see more than sitting in a car.” Back then, Beijing was a “very lovely city” for Ma Lei.
But gradually, he found that cycling in Beijing was becoming less and less fun. Constant demolition and road widening turned once-quiet countryside areas into rows of houses—not too bad. But congestion made road conditions worse, gravel pressed into the road surface, creating many potholes, sometimes even nails and glass shards.
Cycling began to get dangerous.
In November 2012, Ma Lei was cycling as fast as usual, but that day his front wheel was punctured by an unknown object, causing him to lose control and fall to the ground. Over five years, Ma Lei replaced four bikes, with five tire punctures in 2012 alone.
In addition, bike lanes are often occupied by cars, even used as passing lanes; in foreigner-summarized Beijing cycling tips, there’s also one—beware of electric bike riders. Most of them don’t have rearview mirrors or simply don’t use them, always moving forward without ringing bells, and you only notice them when they zoom past you.
But compared to the bad air, none of that matters much.
A recent article in Singapore’s The Straits Times said that due to smog, more and more foreign companies want to move out of Beijing and relocate to other cities, like Shanghai—simply because Shanghai’s recent air quality index is 20% better than Beijing’s.
During those terrifying days, Lan Haofei, like everyone else, wore a mask and tried to stay indoors as much as possible. "In that kind of weather, any activity—whether walking, cycling, or just staying put—wasn’t suitable."
Air pollution has long been a concern for cyclists. When Zheng Dasong cycled over a hundred kilometers to Lingshan Forest Park, the fresh air lifted his spirits. But once he entered the Sixth Ring Road, the scenery and clean air changed. "By the time you get into the Fifth Ring Road, you can start to smell the dust."
For Kang Maisheng’s family, Beijing’s air is "sometimes severely polluted, sometimes lightly polluted," but always "polluted." On bad air days, Kang’s wife still chooses to cycle because biking remains the best option for her commute from home to Beijing Normal University, where she studies Chinese. When the air is particularly bad, she wears a mask. If the pollution becomes unbearable, Kang and his family opt to drive—but this only happened once or twice before the recent heavy smog.
While most people avoid going out due to air pollution, German girl Yiquan continues to cycle daily—but she wears a mask. This stubborn behavior stems from her strong principles. Yiquan believes that apart from walking and cycling, other modes of transport also contribute to the dirty air. "I will still cycle, and only when more people fall in love with cycling will the air improve."
Cycling: Face and Status
In the "More Awesome Than Cars" survey, there was an interesting contrast: foreigners are more inclined to ride bicycles, whether they are expats, short-term exchange students, or just visiting for a few days.
Many foreigners visiting Beijing often ask Shan Long in utter disbelief, "Hey, why do people here take the subway instead of cycling?" Shan Long once took the subway himself, then quickly got off and regretted it while sitting on a nearby bus stop.
Just as people are still debating whether the weather or distance is suitable for cycling, another issue has come to the forefront. Cycling and driving are not just choices of transportation—they represent entirely different lifestyles.
Beijing has 5 million motor vehicles. If these cars were lined up bumper to bumper and door to door, they would fill the entire Second Ring Road. Twenty to thirty percent of Beijing’s permanent residents own cars, while the rest either join the license plate lottery with a one-percent chance of winning, or simply yearn for a car.
In unspoken social contexts, driving and cycling have become dividing lines of status and identity.
"When you see a foreigner cycling, you think they’re sporty. But when you see an ordinary Chinese person cycling, people secretly assume, oh, they’re a loser because they can’t afford a car," says Lan Haofei.
Contrary to common perception, when drivers of private cars pass cyclists pedaling hard with a sense of psychological superiority, it’s actually the cyclists who look at them with pity—during rush hour, the ring roads are like parking lots, while the bike lanes beside them rarely get congested. "Beijing has excellent conditions for cycling, and terrible conditions for driving," says Shan Long, one such sympathizer.
The prerequisite for getting people to give up their spacious private cars is for the city to provide fast and comfortable public transportation. Although Beijing’s subway system expands by dozens of kilometers each year, taking the subway during peak hours remains one of the city’s most dreadful sights. Writer Li Haipeng vividly described in *The Buddha on Line 1* how an ordinary Beijinger gained insight into the world’s suffering while crammed into a subway car that felt like hell on earth.
Twenty years ago, Beijing was a kingdom of bicycles. Today, it has long transformed from the Kingdom of Bicycles into the Capital of Cars. "If car culture is still regarded as a symbol of a modern metropolis, then the so-called sustainable city is nothing but empty talk," says Shan Long.
In Shan Long’s experience, Bogotá, the capital of Colombia, is also a megacity. Every Sunday, parts of the city prohibit motor vehicles, and on some public holidays, the government even makes Bogotá a completely "car-free city" from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Many cities take pride in being known as "bike cities," such as Copenhagen in Denmark and Odense, the hometown of Hans Christian Andersen. Even the U.S., a nation of four wheels, has built new bike hubs in its capital Washington D.C., offering services such as bike repairs, changing rooms, and rentals.
"Beijingers still need some time to rediscover the value of cycling. Once people’s attitudes change, gaining government support will also become easier." Shan Long plans to hold a "Cycling Day" event on July 7, 2013, encouraging everyone to cycle and see what small changes can bring to the whole city.