People walk around Beijing on a recent steamy day. Men have taken to folding up their shirts to beat the heat. (Simon Dingley/CBC)

The first time I came to Beijing 10 years ago, I looked out the window of the plane and saw black skies. I assumed it had been raining or was about to rain.

But when I landed, it was completely dry. My government-provided interpreter explained the dark skies were, in fact, pollution. Fast-forward a decade. As I flew into Beijing to cover the Olympics, the woman sitting next to me on the plane noticed the dark skies, and said, "Looks like they had fog."

I knew better.

As has been widely reported in recent days, Beijing is the world's pollution capital. Despite that, I see very few people wearing any kind of protective masks. (There are rumours that members of the U.S. Olympic team have been issued masks, but so far I have not seen a single athlete wearing one at the Olympic site.)

Men on the streets of Beijing have adopted the 'man-kini' look in an attempt to keep cool. (Simon Dingley/CBC)

If the pollution doesn't get to you, the heat and humidity will. The first four days I was here, I had to go back to my hotel room in the middle of the day to change my shirt because it was soaking. Others told me they did the same thing.

Some men here in China have an unusual way of handling the hot weather. They wear their shirts "crop-top style" like some women in summertime Canada, tying the tails together at the rib cage and exposing their bellies.

Others wearing T-shirts simply roll it up to their chest, again giving them the look of sporting bikini-tops. Think of it as a "man-kini" of sorts.

I have not seen Chinese women doing this, or dressed in any kind of similar attire. But it seems to work for the men. I'm thinking of trying it when I get back to Toronto.

Go Canada! Go China!

Sarah Irwin lives in Beijing and is half-Chinese, but her Olympic loyalties lie 10,600 kilometres away. She was born in Toronto and raised there until her mother and father moved to the Chinese capital two years ago.

Sarah Irwin, left, is a Team Canada booster, while her mother, Min Irwin, has more divided loyalties. (Simon Dingley/CBC)

"I'm going to cheer for Canada," the 13-year-old tells me. She's wearing a white shirt proclaiming "I am Canadian" after a gymnastics competition at Beijing's University of Technology. "I want them to rock!"

The loyalties of Sarah's mom are divided. Min Irwin was born in China and left for the United States in 1987. She moved to Canada in 1990 to study at the University of Toronto, where she met her future husband, Dave.

"Two nights ago, Canada was playing China in soccer," Min Irwin tells me. "I tell myself I have a Canadian passport, I should cheer for Canada. Though, in my heart, I'm Chinese."

She said she feels excited to live in a country that is rapidly changing. Despite that, she expects to some day move back to Canada.

"Who knows," Irwin muses. "When Toronto gets the Olympics, then I have to move back again."

Security with a smile

Staff from various media outlets around the world, including the CBC, are staying at a hotel about a 15-minute drive from the Olympic site.

Every day as we head to [our bus that takes us to] the Olympic Park, journalists go through a security check in a large white tent adjacent to the hotel. Our Olympic passes are scanned and our bags are put through an X-ray machine.

'I could be in Scarborough, Ont., or Richmond, B.C., or any other suburban North American city.'

There are usually anywhere from eight to 12 Chinese workers in the tent, and they are exceedingly polite. When we pull our keys and other belongings from our pockets, the security people rush over and carefully place them in a tray lined with a rich-looking red fabric, highlighted by gold fringes.

It reminds me of scenes from movies where members of royalty place their crowns on fluffy pillows for safekeeping.

The drive toward the Olympic park gives us a snapshot of life in suburban Beijing. And it's a familiar picture.

Adjacent to the highway is a Cadillac dealership. A few hundred metres later, I notice Toyota and Mitsubishi signs. I could be in Scarborough, Ont., or Richmond, B.C., or any other suburban North American city.