Roaming Beijing's Hutongs
By Nicholas
Old Beijing is a grid of narrow streets lined with time-worn shops and homes, they are known as hutongs. These alleys are made up mostly of four sided courtyards and are built on a network of roads running north south east and west, so no matter what street you're walking down you'll always be facing one point of the compass. Beijing culture is rooted in these neighborhoods, having lived in them for over centuries Beijingers have developed their own hutong lifestyle.
These days, some parts of the hutongs are nothing but half torn down brick buildings, others are still bustling, hanging on to life and tradition. With the onslaught of high rise buildings and an ever growing population, Beijing's hutongs are slowly disappearing. Even the old city wall was sacrificed to development years ago.
In the few chances I get to venture into the old parts of Beijing I'm always amazed by how charming it can be, I step out of the subway and sometimes feel like I've entered a storybook. Grey stone buildings with curved roofs, steaming bamboo baskets full of bread and dumplings, the sound of a true Beijing accent, these are novelties scarcely found in the migrant filled suburbs of the sprawling capital.
A hazy curtain of smog hangs low as I walk along the constricted alleys. This hutong is quietly lined with closed gates and empty doorways, the narrow road makes the walls of the courtyards seem tall，the smell of ginger cooking brings a warm human touch. It's funny，I can't help but get homesick. Even if this looks nothing like home I'm suddenly reminded of afternoons in the neighborhood I grew up in Ottawa. The intermingling smells of different cooking and the occasional sound of a child's laughter or a scolding, aside from the tranquil hutong, this is an atmosphere I've rarely felt in Beijing.
Getting used to hearing only the sound of my footsteps I turn a corner and I'm instantly immersed into the sounds of honking horns and people yelling. It's rush hour and the road is only wide enough for one car, a stream of vehicles have bottled up from the main road, bicycles and pedestrians skirt along the sides of the walls trying to get by. Up ahead the congestion is caused by a fruit vendor turning his cart around. A woman stops him to buy some fruit and they start bargaining, the procession of horns grows louder. I squeeze past and the honking is joined by rough voices yelling out numbers, it's a few men playing drinking games in a restaurant. Their happily drunken red faces circle a table of half empty beer bottles and greasy lamb skewers. Just outside someone fans the barbeque they were cooked on, it lets up a billow of smoke that carries a savory smell. The hustle and bustle of a busy hutong is boisterous and charming, to me it never gets old.
I've turned another corner and notice an old man standing alone next to a doorway. He's pulling sunflower seeds out of his pocket, using his teeth, he expertly cracks one open. He eats the seed and spits the shell out onto the others already scattered by his feet. His eyes watch me intently, but are kind and only curious as to my business. He is dressed very plainly wearing a grey jacket and pants, his shoes are more like slippers, thin and flimsy. He squats down as I nod and he returns it. I'm keen to ask him what he thinks of all the changes going on, but following the history of this city his whole life has been one drastic change after another. Traditionally Beijingers are known to be passive, and he might answer that as long as he's got a healthy family and bowl of noodles to eat he doesn't mind much what's going on in the outside world.
The people of the hutongs are going through a major transition now, the character "chai拆" is spray painted in white (traditionally a colour of mourning) on many of their homes. The character means to tear, indicating that these buildings are soon to be torn down. Beijing was the capital of three dynasties and thus adapting to change is at the root of the city's hutong culture. As the people are moving into modern style apartments their lifestyles have not been dampened. In and around the apartment complexes the old bike repairman and fruit vendor play Chinese chess while waiting for customers, as the sun goes down barbeques are light up and skewers of meat are sold to the workers returning home, in the mornings tai qi is practiced in a small park. A friend once told me of a hip hop dancing class that was held in his complex. It was attended by a group of middle aged women swinging their hips awkwardly to the beat. We laughed at the idea, however, it reflects the people of Beijing's ability to adapt in a time of change.
The hutongs of Beijing are unique in their appearance and the lifestyles of the people within, the narrow alleys are at the root of this city and many people have a warm attachment to them. As the city landscape develops, leaving the criss-cross of thread like lanes to the elevators and stairwells of high-rises, the average Beijinger is adjusting as one would, taking the transition in stride.