Before coming to China in August, I read many articles like this one on the China’s air quality problem. Leading up to the Beijing Olympics, and even before, it became common knowledge in America that the Chinese were struggling to properly balance economic development and environmental protection, particularlly when it comes to the air. I knew that a "good" air quality day in Beijing is far worse than the worst day in the US and I knew that Zhuzhou was listed as one of the 20 most polluted cities in the world in 2007. I wondered what all these facts actually meant to every day life in China. Would I even notice that the air quality was poorer than what I’m used to?
Apparently I had no idea what poor air quality actually meant. Had I had any semblance of a clue, I wouldn’t have wondered.
During summers past, I remember the local TV station advising it’s viewers on the quality of the air and reminding people with asthma and other respiration problems to stay indoors on bad days. As someone who was not afflicted with lung problems, I never really noticed the difference between a “good” and a “bad” day. Everyday seemed just about the same to me. Times have really changed. Here in China, it doesn’t take an asthma suffer to know whether the neighborhood smelting factories are polluting the air more or less on any given day.
A few months ago I walked to a near-by open market to buy some locally grown fruits and vegetables. On the walk home I noticed that I was panting like I had just run a marathon. True, I was carrying pounds of produce while walking up the street in 90 degree weather and I’m not what you would call “in shape,” but that was just not typical for me. There was a point along the way that I wondered if I was going to make. I began to contemplate abandoning my oranges and cauliflower alongside the road. Ok, it wasn’t that bad, but it sure wasn’t normal. The junk in the air really got the best of me that day.
Carrying produce up the street isn’t a problem any more, as I’ve discovered a bus that covers the exact route from my apartment to the market, but I’m still able to differentiate between a good and bad air quality. Just opening my eyes and looking at the sky is enough to let me know if breathing will be a chore on any given day. On good days, the chemicals and particles in the air go unseen, but on bad days, smog surrounds the city like a blanket over the sky. The sun and any trace of stars are blocked out by the menacing clouds of gunk. It doesn’t take an expert or any fancy tests to know the difference and I don’t think Chinese citizens with lung problems need local news reports to tell them if it’s going to be a difficult day to respire. Though I wish, more for their sake than mine, that they did.
Apparently I had no idea what poor air quality actually meant. Had I had any semblance of a clue, I wouldn’t have wondered.
During summers past, I remember the local TV station advising it’s viewers on the quality of the air and reminding people with asthma and other respiration problems to stay indoors on bad days. As someone who was not afflicted with lung problems, I never really noticed the difference between a “good” and a “bad” day. Everyday seemed just about the same to me. Times have really changed. Here in China, it doesn’t take an asthma suffer to know whether the neighborhood smelting factories are polluting the air more or less on any given day.
A few months ago I walked to a near-by open market to buy some locally grown fruits and vegetables. On the walk home I noticed that I was panting like I had just run a marathon. True, I was carrying pounds of produce while walking up the street in 90 degree weather and I’m not what you would call “in shape,” but that was just not typical for me. There was a point along the way that I wondered if I was going to make. I began to contemplate abandoning my oranges and cauliflower alongside the road. Ok, it wasn’t that bad, but it sure wasn’t normal. The junk in the air really got the best of me that day.
Carrying produce up the street isn’t a problem any more, as I’ve discovered a bus that covers the exact route from my apartment to the market, but I’m still able to differentiate between a good and bad air quality. Just opening my eyes and looking at the sky is enough to let me know if breathing will be a chore on any given day. On good days, the chemicals and particles in the air go unseen, but on bad days, smog surrounds the city like a blanket over the sky. The sun and any trace of stars are blocked out by the menacing clouds of gunk. It doesn’t take an expert or any fancy tests to know the difference and I don’t think Chinese citizens with lung problems need local news reports to tell them if it’s going to be a difficult day to respire. Though I wish, more for their sake than mine, that they did.
***
(I took the pictured photos on two separate days in order to illustrate the vast difference between a good and a not-so-good day. The tower is barely visible on a true bad day and doesn't even appear in the photo, so showing you would be pointless. You’ll just have to trust me that the pictured "bad" day is more than just an early morning fog.)
Ashley,
ReplyDeleteDo people wear masks or have they become accustomed to the fog? I wonder what do people with lung conditions do? Must they move from the area and live somewhere else?
I like your pictures.
Mom