Effortless Ice Skaters
Today, we took one step into a shopping mall in Guomao and were surprisingly greeted by a 360° viewing platform above an indoor ice skating rink.
We’d travelled to said mall primarily just looking for something to do for the evening; all despite growing sick of shopping malls to some extent, both here and in South Korea. Given our limited baggage, we are purely there to window shop. Unfortunately, this shopping style, or lack thereof, doesn’t quite feel as enjoyable when the entire staff of every store seems to drop everything and form some kind of entourage to follow us around the place as soon as we enter, constantly reminding us of the prices of every item we vaguely lay eyes up.
Anyway, ice skating.
Well, because we had no real plans, the thought of putting some skates on didn’t seem like a crazy first instinct for my mind to jump to. It was a no, though. I can’t actually skate—which, of course, doesn’t need to be a reason for dissuasion—but the mood also wasn’t quite there. Instead, we just watched.
Among the participants was an older man skating alone in unassuming street clothes, a group of young girls zipping around and practicing tricks, and other kids perfecting their already impeccable form with an instructor. Each person out there appeared so supremely comfortable, totally immersed, and completely flowing.
It is always humbling to watch others effortlessly execute the very same skill you would embarrass yourself by even attempting. Ice skating, especially, feels like an alien form of movement to me. The frozen playground is unfamiliar. That graceful, smooth glide appears impossible to replicate. Then, you’ll watch a child pirouette, leap into the air, spin, contort their body, and nimbly touch back down on one skate.
For them, skating is merely another part of their lives. Something they’re surrounded by. It’s commonplace. Perhaps they’ve grown up with it. Yet, that same mundane activity comes across as miraculous to me. What incredible things are you capable of that you might take for granted?
I know I always devolve into ill-fitting metaphors, but I’ll keep this one brief—watching these skaters felt representative of our stay in Beijing. The environment is starkly unfamiliar and requires different skills to navigate. For many, skating their way around the city is so laughably easy. The ways society functions makes complete sense and the elements we view as unique or strange are invaluable to their daily lives.
For me, the ice feels scary. Not because it inherently is, but because I haven’t developed the skills to flow with it just yet. Lacking the cultural vocabulary to move around comfortably here is okay. Not everyone needs to learn to ice skate in their lives. It is still soundly worth stopping to watch others dance, though.
