BEIJING -- The taxi drops me off at the wrong door, at a youth hostel along a cramped lane lined with historic brick courtyard houses with tile roofs that slope like a dragon's spine. The hostel staff drags my stuffed bags inside -- the bounty of China's irresistible addiction, Too Much Shopping -- before I can make them understand that I'm looking for Red Capital, a dinner club and boutique hotel tucked somewhere in this warren.
They summon a staffer who speaks a bit of English. ''Red Capital, yes, yes!'' says the young woman, smiling, as she grabs one of my bags. ''It is close!'' Several others pitch in, hoisting the rest of luggage; we head down the street.
Do they have any idea where I want to go? But sure enough, a few steps later, they're knocking against a red lacquered door.
''Bye!'' they wave, smiling. No one puts out a hand for a tip.
Such generous spirits, friendly helpfulness and, yes, confusion, are common experiences for visitors to China, and sure to greet travelers who come here next year for the Summer Olympics, which begin on the auspicious date of 8-08-08.
The sprawling city aims to wow. The Forbidden City palace-museum is getting a face lift; several sections currently cloaked in green construction screens will be unveiled by next summer. Streets are flawlessly clean, and public spitting and belching -- once common here -- are actively discouraged. Many of the city's 11 new Olympic venues already are open, and the startling Bird's Nest, as locals have dubbed the steel basket-weave stadium that will host opening and closing ceremonies, is on track for completion in March.
The nonstop construction of the past decade has wrought a massive modern metropolis dotted with gleaming curves and angles and space-age spires -- when you can see them through the smog.
Smog and I-95-style traffic are two of Beijing's toughest challenges. Local officials have plans to minimize both. Rains and seasonal dust from Mongolia typically calm by August, say local officials. In addition, some factories are being relocated to other parts of the country, and those remaining will likely be shut for weeks prior to the games.
Four new subway lines will be opened before the Olympics begin and special lanes will be set aside for Olympic traffic, says spokesman Sun Weide. Buses will offer transportation from central city locations to the Olympic Green complex of stadiums and athletes' housing at the northern edge of town. The government is considering a ban on trucks and many private cars during the games.
The Olympics are China's red carpet premiere -- a dazzling extravaganza with Beijing as superstar. Putting on first-rate Games with a Chinese twist is both a matter of national pride and global positioning. ''We have a chance to show the rest of the world our culture and civilization,'' says Sun.
Hotel rooms have been upgraded and added; a new airport terminal will be unveiled. More than 500,000 foreign visitors are expected for the games; an estimated four billion will watch on TV. Ticket sales so far have exceeded expectations.
GREAT BARGAIN
Already, a year in advance, tourist sites are packed. Visits by Americans are up about a third this year over last -- partly because of buzz, and partly because of value. China is one of the world's great bargains, with a two-week tour including airfare from the West Coast and lodging in American-style hotels starting around $2,000.
Whether visitors come this year or next, to attend the games or simply to see the Great Wall, they will likely leave the Chinese capital wishing they'd had more time. Like its elaborate palace of secrets, the Forbidden City, Beijing is a series of cities within a city -- each with its own treasure tucked inside.
The maddest of one-day dashes takes in austere Tiananmen Square and the historic glories of the Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven and the Summer Palace. With a second day, you can zip though the Ming Tombs, the Great Wall -- maybe haggle for a ''D&G'' jacket or pearl necklace or little red ''Mao'' book in the indoor Silk Market.
But the sporty Mao alarm clocks and jaunty blue workers caps sold nearly everywhere are no more than memorabilia. Though freedom of speech and human rights remain issues, tight-fisted communism is a relic. The Great Leap Forward has landed in the 21st century, and the only public reminder of the Cultural Revolution is the chairman's somber portrait above the Forbidden City's gate, gazing ever-vigilantly across parasol-wielding crowds in Tiananmen Square.
''It's much more metropolitan than I expected,'' said Julie Sweeney of California, touring with her parents and 16-year-old nephew. ``I guess I had an archaic idea of bicycles and Mao jackets.''
To experience Beijing's present, you need to wander through Dashanzi 798, an industrial district where galleries selling jewelry and sleek couches and edgy -- even sexually explicit -- art border on working factories. Stroll the glitzy malls of Wangfujing Street, chocked with genuine goods from Chanel and Prada. Check out the bubble-like National Center for the Performing Arts next to the staunch Peoples Hall of the Republic. Hit a stylish club like the cozy Red Capital, tucked into a historic hutong courtyard house and filled with Mao-era propaganda, or the super-chic Lan, described by frequent Beijing visitor Gretchen Bentley of Palm Beach as ''Philippe Starck on steroids.'' (It is.)
You need to get lost.
If you spend any time on your own, you will. Despite free English classes for Beijing residents, your chances of finding a taxi driver who recognizes the most major landmarks spoken -- or written -- in English are nonexistent. Chinese who do speak English are sometimes difficult to understand. The front desk clerk may struggle to understand fairly basic questions. Ordering food in a small restaurant without an English menu may involve squawking like a chicken. Only a fool ventures out without his destination clearly scripted in Mandarin.
Even then, you may think you've taken your life in your hands. Taxi drivers come in two varieties: slowpokes who clog up the works and brake-stomping speed demons who veer through traffic playing chicken with cyclists and pedestrians. Few cabs have seat belts in the back.
But the most common collision isn't with traffic, but between future and past.
BIG CHANGES
Since I first visited here in the 1980s, Beijing has whirligigged from seclusion to a cellphone culture, from a city of cyclists to one delivering 1,000 new cars onto the crowded streets every day. From a nation without gold medals to an Olympic host.
''It's no small job for a developing country to put on the Olympic Games,'' says Sun, the Beijing Olympic official. Stuck in endless traffic, side-stepping beggars outside a tourist site, watching a merchant hawk his melons from a hand truck pushed through a busy city street, you can see this is true.
In the willow-lined edges of parks where white-haired men practice opera, in the few remaining districts with historic hutong houses -- and perhaps most beguilingly, in the sweetness of the people -- old ways persist.
Nearly every foreign visitor tells a story about a family that wants to trade digital photos, students who stop to practice English, an acquaintance who steps out of his way to help. ''Naive,'' they often say, almost wistfully.
You have to wonder how long the sweetness can last. For now, the yin and yang of fast-forward and yesteryear stroll arm in arm along the Red Carpet of welcome.
