BEIJING – Morgan scrunched his nose.

“You ever seen a McDonald’s?” he asked in a sarcastic voice.

We were riding on a city bus in Beijing’s bustling center. Morgan is a native of China who fled to Taiwan after the 1949 revolution lifted the Communists to power. He returned to his homeland to watch tonight’s Opening Ceremonies.

We laughed for a few seconds as our bus eased past the Golden Arches. It’s weird, and a little discouraging, to fly 6,500 miles and find the familiar.

First thing I spotted after stepping off the plane in Beijing was a Kentucky Friend Chicken sign. At times I’m surrounded here, like I’m surrounded at home, by burgers and pizzas and cell phones.

I spent most of Thursday riding city buses, trying to escape the familiar. One thing’s for sure: For my fellow passengers I was not familiar. Not many – make that not any – middle-aged white males ride buses in Beijing.

I spent one ride talking with Morgan, who builds yachts in Taiwan. We were both amazed, and alarmed, by the smog.

Why did American cyclists apologize for wearing masks over their mouths? They only sought to save their lungs from what can only loosely be described as air.

For weeks, I listened to friends bemoan Beijing pollution. It’s awful, they said. You better be careful. I was skeptical. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

It’s worse.

In the early morning, several of my fellow Americans laughed as we stared straight at the sun, which was trying, and failing, to shine through the gray gloom

Even the sun is no match for this stuff. We should all pity the athletes who will breath the gunk.

As our bus waded through the air, which resembles dirty clam chowder, Morgan and his wife talked about the Forbidden City. “Amazing,” he said. “And beautiful. You will love it.”

He was right. The City, home to a long series of Chinese emperors, was completed in 1420, 31 years before Christopher Columbus was born. It’s a sprawling collection of buildings, with more than 8,000 rooms. but filled with intricate, fantastic detail.

I wandered through The City with residents of Brazil, England, the Netherlands, India, Ireland, South Korea and, of course, China. It was beautiful, even when engulfed by all the filthy air.

One final story:

At the end of the day, we arrived at a bus stop and everyone climbed off. In Beijing, all riders must depart at the end of the route, which meant I faced a long, confusing walk to the next stop.

I was the last one to head to the door. Beijing buses include a driver’s helper, who barks instructions to passengers.

The helper, a stern, no-nonsense woman, headed to the back of the bus, where I had just left my seat. A communist faced a far-from-home capitalist.

“MPC:?” she asked.

I nodded yes.

MPC is the Main Press Center, where several thousand journalists will work for the next two weeks.

She motioned me back to my seat while happily speaking several dozen words of Chinese, which, of course, made no sense to me.

Didn’t matter. She had saved me from a hot walk in the smog.

It was a terrific ride back to the MPC, so terrific I didn’t even mind riding past two more McDonald’s.

Contact the writer: Columnist David Ramsey can be reached at 476-4985 or david.ramsey@gazettedev.gazette.com. Check out David’s blog at http://daveramseysez.freedomblogging.com.

Holly Conlon lives in the neighborhood near the Bon Shopping Center and often rides her bicycle to do her shopping. Photo by