| As the Zan clan proudly tours me around the cramped hutong that has housed the last nine generations of their family, the car dealership across the road rings in its 873rd sale of the day. Welcome to Beijing. Here, a Starbucks can spring up next to a supermarket featuring hundreds of hanging, ready-to-eat Peking ducks, and you can visit a street vendor whose selection of goods ranges from the latest in pirated DVDs to Chinese medicines made from thousand-year-old recipes.
There is no city in the world like Beijing. I arrived in its dazzling mix of ancient Chinese culture and imported western culture after a 24-hour train ride from Shanghai. Despite the short distance between the two cities, the difference is staggering. In Shanghai, English is widely spoken. Cab drivers, the metro system and most people in the service sector can muster a few English words, making Shanghai an easy introduction to China. In Beijing, English is rare, leaving the onus on visitors to perfect their Mandarin. And, while Shanghai at times feels like any other western city, Beijing is unmistakably Chinese, making it enthralling to visit. From the Forbidden City to Tiananmen Square to the hutongs that are home to most of the city’s residents, it is bursting with stories.
All the rage in home architecture during the Yuan, Ming and Qing Dynasties (13th to 20th century), hutongs continue to house half of Beijing’s residents and cover one-third of the city. The word "hutong" refers to the narrow lanes and alleyways that connect rows upon rows of houses. The dwellings between these narrow paths range from pieces of wood and tin hammered together to form a shoddy shelter, to stately homes in which the most powerful leaders of Beijing once lived. Entrance to a hutong is often through an ornately-decorated gate marked with Chinese characters. Once through the gate, getting lost is a serious concern, as hutongs can have up to 20 twists and turns in their path, which can narrow to as little as 40 centimetres in width.
Hundreds of years of Chinese culture have been cultivated in the hutongs. It’s in these lanes that generations of Chinese gather to play, buy goods, gossip and connect with each other. It’s here that the rich history of China is revealed, from tales of emperors and invasions, to those of civil wars and communists. Many of my days in Beijing were spent wandering the hutongs with fascination. Along with the Zan family, the hospitality of many others in the hutongs put my Mandarin skills to the test. Over copious amounts of Chinese tea, I was introduced to Beijing as the hutong dwellers see it – a city of history, of hope and, most of all, of change.
In the past few years, construction sites and English lessons have become hallmarks of Beijing, indicative of the rapid change that has engulfed the city’s physical and cultural landscape. According to the residents of the hutongs, two factors are driving this change.
The first is capitalism. While the government has been quick to embrace this economic system, every Beijing street offers a differing viewpoint as to whether communism or capitalism is favoured by city residents. Once out of the hutongs and past the crowds of proud, flag-waving Chinese tourists visiting Tiananmen Square, it appears that capitalism is dominating. Western businesses dot city streets packed with locals ready to spend money. American fast-food restaurants such as McDonalds, KFC and Pizza Hut enjoy as many patrons as the neighbouring local restaurants. This popularity is extended to American clothing retailers as well as the many other western businesses that have flocked to China to capitalize on its enormous market. Far from what one would expect in the heart of communist China, consumerism is thriving in Beijing. In this city, every want and need can be satisfied, no matter what the time of day or how extravagant the request.
The approaching 2008 Olympics have also proven to be a catalyst for unprecedented change, as the Chinese government seizes the opportunity to demonstrate to its international audience that China has joined the modern world. There are talks of holding the volleyball competition in Tiananmen Square and the hum of bulldozers fills every corner of the city, busily tearing down hutong after hutong to be replaced with high-rise apartments by 2007. The service sector is scrambling to master English, while the public transit system is being anglicized to handle the onslaught of tourists expected to arrive alongside the athletes and media.
Western buildings, plans and designs are being relied upon almost exclusively to create a new Olympic-ready Beijing. As elucidated to me by a group of Swedish architecture students who were imported to aid in the rapid construction that has swallowed up most of the city, in the new version of Beijing, there is little room or appreciation for the ancient Chinese culture that permeates every inch of the old city.
Back in the endangered hutongs, residents debate the merit and magnitude of these changes. Some voice frustration, others voice hopes for a better Beijing. They question whether their culture is being eroded or simply improved, as most are fiercely proud of their capital and anxious to show it off in the upcoming Olympics, and many more have benefited from the government’s acceptance of capitalism.
As this dynamic city seeks to define itself, these residents find themselves torn between either salvaging their rich history or becoming active participants in a new chapter in China’s story. Their comments unveil a portrait of Beijing that is distinct from the dazzle that greets tourists, one that is as much a lament for the modernization of this ancient city as it is a celebration of the contrasts that dominate its landscape. |
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