My plane touched down in the darkness and I knew that my first nights encounter with Beijing would either be a thrilling blend of romantic sights and the scents of exoticism, or just plain terrifying.

I was alone. Which in itself was not the issue, but I’d had virtually no sleep in the past 48 hours, the bags under my eyes had grown large enough in size to carry a weeks shopping from Marks and Spencer’s and due to exhaustion and a moderate yet unpleasant bout of stomach flu I had begun to question my body’s ability to stand upright without assistance. I somehow made it into the back of a taxi and no sooner were we on the road and headed in the direction of ancient history, of Tiananmen Square and the mystical Forbidden City, or so I guessed.

The vast expanses of highway soon turned into a maze of small alleyways and the emptiness of the airport was a distant scene as the frenzy of late night pedestrians pulsed through the streets by bicycle, rickshaw, and foot. The glimmering lights of the lanterns hanging from each dwelling space guided us through the narrow roads and all at once, my exhaustion evaporated and my senses were alight with the intensity of a thousand blazing torches.

I had arrived in one of Beijing’s ancient Hutongs, the old neighborhoods where the locals have lived for many centuries. I had imagined what one might be like, and then right there before me it all was, laid out beautifully like an extravagantly designed film scene…

Everyone was on their mark, choreographed to ride past on their rickshaws at precisely the right intervals, to sit pensively smoking their pipe in the frame of the doorway, their wafts of smoke perfectly illuminated under the scarlet-colored lanterns, the impeccable juxtaposition of light and shadow in the alleyway and the steady flow of extras directed to walk ever so naturally over the floodlit cobblestones as they chattered away in their native tongue and exited into the darkness of stage right.

Twenty yards up on our left, we spotted my guesthouse. As I unsuccessfully attempted Mandarin pleasantries and paid the driver, the star of the next scene entered the doorway, the aroma of savory meats and tobacco following her.

“Nihao!” she said on cue. “Welcome to Beijing.”