My China: “Democracy Is Not Coca-Cola”

TO friends of mine who have never been here, I always say that one does not go to China; one returns to China. I add that you either love or loathe China; there are no half measures.

- ADRIANO MADARO

Feign indifference at your peril: the ancient Middle Kingdom stirs powerful emotions — for me of friendship and understanding, but most often of admiration.

During my childhood I imagined China as a “Land of Wonders.” Livre des Merveilles, or in Italian, Il Milione — “The Million” is indeed the title of Marco Polo’s famous book. While at primary school I felt inexplicably drawn to the great map of the world that hung on the classroom wall, imagining exotic journeys to that vast yellow expanse with such a short yet evocative name: China.

I cannot account for my boyhood fascination with the fabled Celestial Empire. But apart from the tales of Marco Polo, the small illustrated book my parents gave me when I was five-years-old was undoubtedly a significant factor. It told of the adventures of a curious young boy who crosses the deserts of Arabia and the jungles of India before finally arriving in the Empire of the Dragon, where he is warmly welcomed by a young girl. Their conversation remains imprinted on my mind: “Beautiful girl I ask you, what is this country?” / “Arrived you are in China, and if you want you can stay.” / “Thank you, beautiful Chinese girl! I am happy to stay.”

It was from that moment that China, its people, its history, and its civilization, began to become a part of my life — as a schoolboy, as a student, and as an academic researcher — and has remained so over the years. To others, my adventures might appear extraordinary, but to me they are predestined, almost a vocation.