This was the week of crashing bicycles in Beijing. After a rare snowfall we were hit by a blistering cold front from Siberia which drove temperatures down to minus 16C and turned the snow on the streets into lethal sheets of shiny black ice. One second an office worker or shop assistant would be sailing by on a bicycle; the next moment, bike and passenger would be lying in a tangled, skidding heap.
The egg and fruit sellers on the little market street near us had an entertaining couple of days, as bicycles slid wildly from under their riders on a particularly deceptive stretch of roadway. Knots of pedestrians gathered to watch as the usually docile Phoenix and Flying Pigeon machines staged suicidal rebellions, their handlebars writhing uncontrollably and throwing the sedate owners on to the road.
It wasn't so much fun, of course, for the 6,000 casualties who were taken to the Jishuitan hospital emergency room and other hospitals from all over Beijing with arm and leg fractures. "Even the corridors outside the wards are occupied by seriously injured patients who will require an operation," said Dr Gong Xiaoying, in the Jishuitan Orthopedic Ward as more victims came limping up to the front door, wheeling bikes with twisted handlebars and broken spokes.
Like every city in the world where snowfall is rare, a few centimetres can cause enormous disruption in Beijing. As it fell in mid-week, airlines cancelled flights, expressways and highways closed, and commuters were forced to turn up late for work as they abandoned their bicycles, only to wait in vain for taxis or buses with room.
Winter weather in Beijing is usually pretty boring. It is cold and bleak, with no cloud cover for weeks on end, and even the snowfalls are never dramatic. Snow almost never comes down in heavy wet flakes, and blizzards are unknown. It arrives as a fine drizzle of tiny specks of frozen moisture, like falling hoar frost.
If it keeps coming long enough, as it did this week, the effect is magical. The flat Chinese capital with its factories and building sites and narrow lanes is transformed into a winter wonderland. Beijingers with cameras flocked to the parks this week to take pictures of snow-decorated pavilions and temples framed by weeping willow trees. Park architecture in China is all about shapes, and artificial rocky outcrops topped with ornamental pagodas make beautiful black and white studies in winter.
Yesterday, a glorious bright sunny day, we went to Kunming Lake in the Fragrant Hills just outside town, passing on the way little frozen fish ponds where men sat huddled over holes in the ice, angling for trout. Kunming Lake is Beijing's biggest artificial lake. It was deepened and expanded in the 18th century by Emperor Qianlong, so that he could survey navy drills from the hilltop crowned by the Summer Palace.
Before the arrival of refrigerators it used to be a common practice to cut slabs of ice from the lake in winter and store them for summer use. This weekend it resembled an Olde English Christmas card scene, with hundreds of people in mufflers wandering all over the ice as far as the eye could see.
In these more prosperous times Chinese people are more inclined to see winter ice as recreational. A number of indoor skating rinks have opened in Beijing, with food courts and rock music like in any American suburb. Beijing's Fifth Ice and Snow Festival opened in December at five tourist spots including a section of the Great Wall, where kids can wander through ice sculptures of famous buildings and play ice and snow sports.
"Is it OK to skate here?" I asked an elderly woman attendant outside the Temple of Rippling Jade beside Kunming Lake. "I suppose so," she said, despite the notice at the lakeside saying "Do not step on the ice", which everyone was ignoring anyway.
Being allowed to break the rules is as rare as a snowfall here and gave an edge to the fun of venturing on to the lake surface, though the ice was uneven, as if it had frozen on a windy night, and only a few skaters stumbled about. It was quite safe, however, despite the rather alarming booming and cracking sounds which echoed across the ice as it expanded and heaved in the bitter cold.
In keeping with these capitalist times, several young entrepreneurs had rigged up sleighs from metal tubes and pedicab seats and cheerfully pushed couples around the lake surface for sightseeing tours. At least it was safer way of moving around than by bike.