The sky is not colourful enough

A few years ago, I went out to the rural district of Daxing at the southern edge of Beijing to take part in a 10km run. It was a dazzlingly beautiful day in April or early May. The young forestry plantations in the district provided a delightful backdrop to our exertions; the local villagers beamed encouragement at us; and the almost cloudless sky was the kind of infinite blue that simply could not be improved upon.

Of course, the organizers insisted on filling the air with flags and banners and balloons and lanterns and - at the start of the race - with really colossal amounts of party-popper streamers. I felt it said something unfortunate about the national character in modern times: the compulsion towards kitsch seems to smother all other aesthetic sense, even the appreciation of nature.