The electronic voice in my ear spoke unbroken English, but was more fascinated by large numbers than any linear historical explanation. As I walked from one oversized courtyard to the next, the voice narrated, casually inserting exact figures of heights and areas as though China's history were one of measurements. It was hard to stay as fascinated as she was. After just a few hours, I traced my steps back to the entrance to go to Beijing's most famous square, across the street.

On first sight, Tiananmen Square is distinctly unchaotic. In such a big and flat space, where do you go when someone starts shooting? But looking around, there was little evidence that anyone was thinking the same thing, or even about the site's notorious history at all.

Unsure of what to do, I looked to others for inspiration. Gawkers, both foreign and national, posed for a few pictures, then bought water and found shade. Those that couldn't find a shadow to hide in huddled in bunches around the square, squinting through the sun with faces that said, "What now?"

It's hard to blame anyone for ignoring the site's gravity. Expansive and static, Tiananmen Square offers little in the way of guidance. With no memorials or explanations of the turbulence 18 years ago that surely attracted these crowds, it was like standing in the desert and being told there was an ancient city buried underneath -- it took imagination to conjure up any wonder. In the absence of uncensored history, a few numerical measurements was the best we could hope for.

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