A thousand years of history didn't matter to a two-year-old, especially one with an overactive bladder. There is a photo of me as a toddler in Beihai Park, arguably one of the oldest and best-preserved imperial gardens in the country, with a suspicious puddle next to my feet.

Going back even further in time, there is a picture of my mother holding me under one of the weeping willows that swooned toward the edge of the lake.

Beihai Park may have been built for emperors but it was my playground. Seeing the colossal white tower in the middle of the lake was as much of a daily routine as eating and napping. While other children were hauled off to preschool on the backs of their parents' bicycles, my grandfather gave me piggyback rides to the park's west gate and taught me my first English words: hello and thank you.

When I was 4, I joined my parents in America, where a park meant any patch of green with a bench on it. I looked forward to summer visits to Beijing - it meant frequent trips to the "real" park, where my cousin and I got blisters on our palms from scaling the metal play structures. My grandmother would buy us snacks - bouquets of lotus bulbs fresh from the lake. Pried from their spongy bed, the jewel-green seeds squeaked between our teeth.

As I got older, Beihai and I both went through our awkward phases. Wenjin Street roared with traffic, and the lake suffered from too many visitors and too little care. Near the Five Dragon Pavilions, the water swirled with candy wrappers, bottles and beer cans. People paddling in the swan-shaped boats had to skirt clumps of neon green and blue algae.

That was 10 years ago. Since then I have visited the park less and less, opting for air-conditioned strolls through the department stores instead. But recently my grandmother, now nearly 80 years old, convinced me to take a morning walk there with her.

Stepping in through the south gate, I noticed a large flower display including a bush pruned into a dragon that heralded the Olympics. I glanced down at the water. This time there was no polluted mess, just green waves lapping quietly at cool white marble.

Beihai has become a place that Beijingers are proud to show off to the world. The white Buddhist tower now appears on one of the commemorative coins for the Olympic Games. Even I, who barely still qualify as a Beijinger, am eager to share this trove of Chinese history and personal memories.

Though it is a bit of a trek to the heart of the city, I want to show my friends the water lilies blooming thickly beneath the bridges. I want them to see the elderly folks at their quirky exercises - walking backwards, dancing, and hamming it for foreigners' cameras. Who knows, they might like eating squeaky lotus seeds. And the park has nice restrooms, they probably won't see any kids peeing in the bushes.