The walk from my apartment to the closest subway station takes about 10 minutes. I usually try to zone out. There’s not much to look at. Most of Beijing’s neighborhoods are packed with high-rise apartment buildings that clog the skyline, each as forgettable as the next. Mine is no different. Except for the turds.
Dog turds are everywhere. And by everywhere I mean every few yards: one stinking, sticky landmine after another. Worse yet, the same turds often sit on the sidewalk for several days before they’re either washed away or scooped up by street cleaners. I know because I walk the route several times a week.
One day I kept a tally of the turds I passed. In the middle of the sidewalk. On a curb. In front of a school. Outside the entrance of a chicken feet restaurant. By the time I got to 40, I felt like gagging and stopped looking down. Continue reading