It doesn’t happen often.

Every September or October however, for a few days at a time, Beijing transforms itself from a stinking, disgusting, huge, grimy, pile of dust to a gorgeous, urban wonderland. On Saturday, we had spent the sunny day sitting outside the glitzy Shin Kong Place discussing agriculture politics and the outfit of the girl sitting next to us. I was already in a good mood.

As we left, we wandered home next to the otherwise smelly river just south of the China world trade offices. The sky had turned a golden purple blue and bathed the skyscrapers in a pool of fairy dust. Next to the river, migrant workers had turned a rather unattractive group of ramshackle housing and un-hygenic restaurants into rubble and then into a park, complete with pagodas, sculptures and weeping willows. A cool breeze was stroking my skin.

Beijing had me once again.