BEIJING -- The most interesting person I met while in China for the 2008 Olympics wasn't an athlete or a coach or a journalist.

He wasn't even all that keen on the Games.

He was a young man sitting across the aisle from me on a bus headed for the Badaling section of the Great Wall of China. He was, as much as anyone, the face of China I will remember.

He stands for the glowing images, kindness and innocence that left lasting impressions for those of us who came here for the Olympics.

He also stands for the thirst for knowledge and growth and freedom that surely one day will clash with the 21st-century Communist regime when the shine of a terrific Olympics has faded and the call of the free world rings ever louder.

At first, the college-aged man politely translated for the fare-collector because I had given her the wrong amount. A little later, he showed me a digital image on his camera and asked me to translate the word on a man's T-shirt. "Hockey," I said. (Around here, that means field hockey.)

"Oh," he said and laughed. "I got the translation wrong."

It turns out he spoke excellent English but was shy about using it because he worried about making mistakes in grammar. I didn't have the heart to tell him how often Americans make grammar mistakes.

We began to talk, and he said he could understand me well and appreciated being able to use his English with a native speaker.

We never exchanged names, but he told me he was from Sichuan Province and was on vacation in Beijing with his girlfriend. He was studying with the hope of being able to transfer to the University of Toronto -- from where he very much wants to visit the great United States.

He never said exactly why he thought America is so great. Neither did the young female Olympics volunteer who a week earlier asked me for my business card, complete with my autograph -- a first -- on the back. Or any other Chinese person I spoke with here the past three weeks.

The language barrier pretty much prevented any talk of politics with the Chinese, but I'm guessing I wouldn't have gotten very far. That sort of thing isn't done in a Communist country, right?

Coming to Beijing was a great experience in a lot of ways.

I was at 11 Olympic venues, all impressive, including the interesting phenomenon of all looking bigger on the inside than from the outside. I saw a lot of great performances, including Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt's world-record, 9.69-second run in the men's 100 meters despite lollygagging before the finish.

I got to Tiananmen Square, the Great Wall, the Temple of Heaven, a party, a restaurant, did some shopping, got around by taxi some and mastered the subway system.

The Chinese did a tremendous job staging the Olympics. The transportation system worked well. The media village was nicer than anyone expected, with bright, clean rooms, lush landscaping and someone to help you with anything you needed 24 hours a day.

Still, I leave with a lot of mixed feelings about this place.

It goes back to that same question I wrote about during the Games. What of this is real, and how much is a top-rate veneer?

The people here embraced the Olympics. You could not walk in a crowd without stepping into someone's shot as they took pictures of each other in front of anything Games-related.

And they seem happy.

I walked out of the Bird's Nest one hot afternoon between morning and evening track sessions to find that the big plaza between the stadium and the Water Cube had a secret beyond the embedded light strips and extensive speaker system. It had rows and rows of water spigots that put up streams like giant drinking fountains.

People surrounded the tracts of spraying water. Children and some adults ran through to cool off. But there were not many children for a crowd that size. There never were, a reminder of the government's one-child policy.

When I thought of that, or when I saw the military-style security standing at attention everywhere, and especially the military guards with automatic weapons at occasional checkpoints, it made me want to rebel.

For instance, I brought an MP3 player loaded with all sorts of music for the long walks and shuttle bus rides, and I found myself secretly feeling smug whenever something such as the Chili Peppers or Green Day or Three Days Grace was playing because I somehow figured that music wouldn't please the Communist censors or moral police.

A small measure, to be sure, but I wasn't about to find out what happens to anyone who blatantly defies authority here.

I hope the billions of good people in China decide the goodwill they saw and the openness of visitors from many countries they met while the Olympics were here are worth pursuing as free people, and I hope they have the courage to make it happen.