SOLEMN MOMENT: A flag-raising ceremony at the Tiananmen Square in downtown Beijing on January 1 (TANG ZHAOMING)

Sometimes it is good to be serendipitous here in Beijing. One Sunday afternoon hanging out in the apartment was getting to me. The cold weather here this winter has kept everyone inside or in the malls that are found on every block it seems. I had no desire to join that throng. Shopping is a sport here and on this particular day I decided not to become a participant or even a spectator.

So at around 3:45 p.m. I gathered up my bag, put on my coat and gloves, and headed the subway.

First stop was to Qianmen Street just south of the Tiananmen Square. It is a restored historic street dating from about 1912 to the 1930s. In most instances the storefronts are original, the rest of the stores and buildings are recreations. Kind of like Disney's Main Street. A great facade but the interiors are all the same.

These buildings now house such stores as H&M, GAP, Nike, Adidas, Starbucks, Costa Coffee, restaurants, tea shops and the like. It is great for tourists or for people out for a stroll since it is a pedestrian street now with no cars—just millions of people.

When I go here, I avoid this street. Instead I go to another nearby old street. It is lined with even older shops and restaurants. Many of these have signs from the time they were founded—most about the 1880s. There are the silk shops that made the silk robes for the eunuchs waiting on the emperor, the tea shops that brewed special teas, and even a shoe shop that still makes hand-made shoes the way they did 150 years ago. It is a great experience to see the area.

Anyway, after strolling down the street I decided to start heading home as the sun was going down and it was getting cold. It was a little after 5 p.m. when I reached the Tiananmen Square.

I noticed over at the far end of the square that there was a huge crowd standing and waiting for something to happen by the flagpole that held aloft the Chinese flag. I headed over to the crowd, always eager to explore.

As I reached the crowd standing around the flagpole, I heard over the loud speakers an announcement. The announcement said that the flag ceremony would start in about 10 minutes. I had assumed that the large Chinese flag flew over the capital 24 hours a day. But I was wrong.

It was now about 5:20 p.m. Everything had stopped. People were quiet. Slowly from somewhere near the western part of the square a military formation came into view. There were about 40 soldiers marching.

They swung their right arms up and down. Back and forth. In their left arms were their rifles. And attached to the end of each barrel was a brilliant, shiny, silver bayonet. You could see this sharpness as the setting sun was reflected off them.

Slowly the soldiers came to the flagpole and marched around it. Half the group went to the right, the other half to the left. They stood behind the flagpole and in front of the watching crowd.

One of the honor guards stepped out of the formation and went up the stairs. He walked over to the flagpole and unleashed the rope holding the flag aloft. The flag itself is lowered by a machine and not by someone cranking it from below. This assures an even steady raising and lowering of the flag during a ceremony.

Down it came in silence. Finally the tip of the flag was in reach of the guard and he quickly raised his right hand, grabbed it and brought the rest of it down.

With the pole in his left hand now, and the tip of the flag in his right, the guard began some of the most dramatic, static, and the most stylized moves when folding a flag I have ever seen.

With the bow finished, and the flag all neat and trim, the guard hoisted the flag and pole over his left shoulder as if he was carrying his rifle with bayonet. He then marched down the front of the platform followed by the honor guard on the platform with him.

Suddenly the two formations of 20 soldiers each started to move. As the honor guard moved forward, the soldiers and their rifles moved behind them forming 10 rows of four soldiers in each row.

They were now walking across the street toward the Forbidden City. Across the street and then over the central white marble bridge. As the last row of four soldiers went through the large gates, they swung shut.

I went home promising myself to make time to watch the flag-raising ceremony as soon as possible.

The author is an American living in Beijing