Beijing: The Hidden City (843 views)

Release date:2009-08-24 13:28:39

On hearing “Beijing”, most people immediately conjure up images of the imperious Great Wall, or perhaps the mystery of the Forbidden City; maybe the vastness of Tiananmen Square, or the tranquil splendour of the Summer Palace come to mind. Beijing is unquestionably a city of contrasts; indeed, so much so that my trip didn't even take in any of the previously mentioned tourist megaliths. Instead, I found myself hopefully lost among the narrow alleys of the hutong, not too far from the bustling Tiananmen Square. This, however, was a world so different that it felt like an enigma wrapped up in the heart of enigmatic Beijing.

The city of Beijing was originally protected by huge walls, and each individual home was also enclosed by a wall, thereby forming a labyrinthine old city with cavernous paths connecting the intricate maze.

Although many people opt to tour the hutongs on bicycles or two-person pedicabs, I chose to wander on foot. Time did not so much stand still as seem irrelevant, as I absorbed the timeless sight of women making dumplings by hand, and took the opportunity to try and oil the wheels of my rusty Chinese to stave off the hunger pangs brought on by a morning's rambling. “Aiyi, wo yao jiaozhi-duoshao qian?” I spoke as quickly as possible in order to: 1) Sound as natural as possible; and 2) Cover my disastrous tonal pronunciation as best I could. This being Beijing, however, my dumpling lady had no problem understanding me. (Further south, my pathetic attempt at Chinese tones might have been met with a polite, yet quizzical smile). “San kuai qian”, she replied with a grin. “Nide Zhong wen, hen hao!” (Three Yuan, your Chinese is very good!) I thanked her, and explained that I'd been in China for a while, etc. In no time she presented me with a bag of steamed dumplings (jiaozhi), their piping hot freshness making my already rebellious stomach break out in mutiny. “Xie xie”, I grinned. “You're welcome”, she replied in English, another surprise in this most surprising of cities. A middle-aged lady, with possible no formal education, able to at least pass the basic time of day with me in my native language. Some would argue that it's the result of creeping commercialism, and whilst this may be true to an extent, there was no denying the genuine warmth of the people I encountered and their desire to communicate-in whatever language possible.

Later in the afternoon, passing through the winding, cavernous streets, I happened upon an elderly gent engaged in calligraphy. He told me that he'd been an art student in his youth, but had been displaced during the period of the cultural revolution. He made a living now selling paintings and teaching. I sat with him for a while, and even managed to paint my name in Hanzhi (Chinese characters) to his exacting yet kindly standards. As ever, for me, despite the unique beauty of the winding lanes, courtyards and buildings, it was the people that made the place, along with the uniqueness of the community, where residential situations and commercial hubs met. Due to the delicate intimacy of the surroundings, it would be impossible to go even a full day without encountering a neighbour on the street. For me also, the surprise encounters and individual stories stirred me as much-if not more- than the wonderment of my surroundings. It takes people to construct buildings and to give them life. Many of the hutongs have now made way for the modern demands of an expanding and growing city. It is my hope that more people can glimpse this fading world before money and modernisation change the face of this part of Beijing forever.

“As the past was, so the present is, and so the future shall be, saith the Emperor”. I relished my timeless day spent in the past's present.

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