Hoop Rolling / 滚铁环

From book Beijng’s Pastimes of Yesteryear.

                Rolling the hoop was one of the most popular games in old Beijing, especially amongst boys. Many children found this more interesting than spinning tops because both the speed and direction of the hoop could be controlled.

                The whole set consisted of two parts; the hoop, a ring usually made of metal, and stick with which it was pushed along. The hoop itself could be made fairly[KL1]  easily by bending a metal strip into a circle using a plier[KL2] . The size of the hoop should not be too big or too small – about the diameter[KL3]  of a domestic Chinese bucket[KL4]  (40 or 50 centimeters). As the hoop is designed to roll, of course the nearer it is to a perfect circle the better! The second element, the rod[KL5] , can be a made of wood or bamboo and should be about a meter long. At the end of the stick is a U-shaped metal hook to help control the hoop.

                The best locations for rolling the hoop were reasonably[KL6]  flat roads, hutongs, or empty squares. Some children would hold the stick in their hand and simply push the hoop as fast as possible while their friends ran along behind them trying to keep up. Others, however, concentrated less on raw[KL7]  speed and more on twisting and turning the hoop, and making it describe elaborate[KL8]  figures.

                In the past children would also organize competitions by choosing a distant finishing point and then rolling the hoop to see who managed to get there first. Once the starter of the race gave the signal the group of the race gave the signal the group of excited children would begin frantically running along with their hoops rolling in front of them. As the race went on the dust and excitement would rise as the hoops rolled ahead of the posse of wildly shouting children! Due to the crowding and confusion sometimes certain hoops would clash with each other and fall; if this happened those involved were disqualified from the race. Of course the first racer to reach the finishing post with his hoop was declared the proud winner and, for a short time at least, became the toast[KL9]  of his companions[KL10] !

                The trick of the game was to master the control of balance, if not the hoop was sure to fall sooner or later. The rod acted as a steering wheel, which controlled the direction of the hoop, while the speed was controlled using the strength of the hands. Playing this game also helped to strengthen arm and leg muscles, improve balance, and especially when the race was long – build up stamina[KL11] . All in all, rolling the hoop provided fun and healthy exercise and was not only popular, but possibly one of the most beneficial pastimes for growing children. However these days, at least in modern Beijing, it is almost impossible to see children playing with the rod and hoop and even in rural[KL12]  areas it has become a rare sight.

 


 [KL1]公正地, 正当的, 公平对待某人, 公平地, 相当地, 还算, 清楚地

 [KL2]钳子(如老虎钳,手钳,扁嘴钳等),镊子

 [KL3]直径

 [KL4].

桶, 一桶的量, [桶状物]铲斗

 [KL5]杆, 棒

 [KL6]适度地, 相当地

 [KL7]未加工的, 生疏的, 处于自然状态的,

 [KL8]精心制作的, 详细阐述的, 精细

 [KL9]干杯:向一个人或物表示敬意或祝一个人健康而举杯饮酒的动作

 [KL10]交谊, 友谊

 [KL11]毅力, 持久力, 精力

 [KL12]乡下的, 田园的, 乡村风味的, 生活在农村的

Love at the temple fair of 2010 Spring Festival

Chaoyang Park Temple Fair will deal with the topic of love at its Spring Festival event next year because the Chinese festival falls on Valentine’s Day, the Beijing News reported yesterday.

The park said on Monday they would hold joint activities with four Greek cities since the Chinese translation of the Aegean Sea sounds like “love” in Chinese. The temple fair will be held from Feb 14 to 19.

Spinning Tops / 陀螺

In old Beijing the game of spinning tops was particularly popular in the seasons of autumn and winter. Children would wind the string of their whip around the conch[KL1] -like tops and then quickly pull the string away, just as they let go of the top, to leave it spinning at a furious rate. The result appealed[KL2]  not only to the eyes but also to the ears as the spinning tops made a distinctive[KL3]  humming sound.

                The history of the spinning top in China is long one, extending back as far as the Ming Dynasty. However they really took off in popularity amongst Beijing children during the Qing Dynasty. At that stage spinning tops were carved from wood into a cone[KL4]  shape, circular at the top and pointed at the bottom, something like the shape of a funnel[KL5] . They were generally about 5 centimeters in height and 4 centimeters across at their widest point; some of them had a metal cover at the spinning point to make them last longer. Some owners would paint colors and designs on the tops to make them look prettier as they span. The whip[KL6]  consisted of a wooden stick about sixty centimeters long with a length of string or a thin strip[KL7]  of cloth or leather tied to one end. With these two simple elements, top and whip, you were all set to go spinning!

                The string or cloth is wrapped tightly around the body of the top, which is then placed point down on a flat even surface. With a sudden, rapid movement the whip is pulled away to leave the top spinning. To keep it spinning sufficiently [KL8] fast and to remain upright [KL9] the player whips the top again and again. Some skillful children could keep several tops spinning at once. Others would compete against each other to see whose top kept spinning the longest. Some tips for spinning are: choosing a suitably even surface to play on, keeping the whip parallel and close to the ground when launching the top, and using the very end of the whip to lash the middle of the top while avoiding hitting it to strongly.

                Even today, spinning tops are still one of the favorite games played by children in Beijing; on any weekend or holiday, happy children can be seen lashing [KL10] their tops in old hutongs or parks and squares.


 [KL1]贝壳, 海螺壳

 [KL2]吸引力,感染力:吸引或引起兴趣的力量

 [KL3]与众不同的, 有特色的

 [KL4]锥形物, 圆锥体

 [KL5]漏斗, 烟窗

 [KL6]鞭打, 抽打, 突然移动

 [KL7]条, 带

 [KL8]十分地, 充分地

 [KL9]垂直的, 竖式的, 正直的, 诚实的, 合乎正道的

 [KL10]鞭打, 痛斥, 大量, 许多

The eyewitness / 胡同卫士张巍

Amateur photographer Zhang Wei fights to save Beijing’s hutongs with a camera. Even as this capital city and its citizens hurtle toward modernization, there are many who wish some things would stay like they were. Zhang Wei is one of them.

On any given day, 31-year-old Mr. Zhang can be found wandering through a Beijing hutong, one of those centuries-old narrow lanes that once filled the city center. Armed with a camera, the amateur photographer walks the lanes, snapping the clay-tiled roofs and the wooden doorways of the courtyard homes that line the alleyways. Sometimes, he finds only rubble where once families had a home. Other times, he catches the destruction on film as it happens.

He’s seen it before: His family’s courtyard home—where the Zhangs lived for 80 years—was razed by a bulldozer to make way for a five-story office building and road in June 2000. Since then, Mr. Zhang has devoted himself to preserving Beijing’s hutongs the best way he knows how, with a camera and his Chinese-language Web site, www.oldbeijing.org. He even quit his job at a public relations agency in late 2002 to focus fulltime on the Web site.

“I just wanted to use this Web page to mourn for my old home, where I left all my childhood memories of growing up,” says Mr. Zhang, who photographs Beijing hutongs by day and loads the images onto his Web site at night.

Not so long ago, hutongs were the main arteries of life in Beijing. They spread out from the city center—the Forbidden City—and served as community meeting places, markets, playgrounds and roads for all who lived there. This hutong way of life — which is present in other Chinese cities, including nearby Tianjin, but is unique to Beijing in its concentration — is quickly disappearing. Old courtyard homes, or siheyuan, and hutongs are being torn down to make way for shiny office towers, modern apartment blocks, shopping malls and new roads. According to a nonprofit hutong preservation group, the Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Center, Beijing had more than 3,000 hutongs in the 1950s.The group estimates that only 1,000 remain.

“Some of the hutongs have gone forever,” says Mr. Zhang. “That’s why I want to record them in the pictures.”

 Little did he know that many others would be drawn to his cause. On weekends, 20 to 30 people—foreign and local, students and professionals—join Mr. Zhang in the hutongs, snapping photos from different angles. Taking pictures in groups “is a kind of protest,” says Mr. Zhang, whose Web page currently hosts more than 120,000 photos of about 700 hutongs in varying conditions—refurbished, crumbling and demolished. The site draws nearly 20,000 viewers a day, says Mr. Zhang, and has 16,000 registered members.

Chen Li, a 37-year-old manager at a local branch of international home products retailer Ikea, is a weekend regular. “In the oldbeijing.org, there are many kinds of people coming together with different purposes,” he says. “Some are more interested in architecture, some are lovers of Beijing culture, some are just fans of photography.”

Mr. Zhang’s Website hasn’t yet saved any hutongs from destruction, but the group has raised awareness. “What we are trying to do is to catch people’s hearts,” says Mr. Zhang. The effort has cost him. In the past five years, Mr. Zhang has run through 300,000 yuan (about $44,000) in savings. Nowadays, he has to ask his parents, both of whom are retired, for pocket money (about 25 yuan a day). “I am sure what I am doing now will be justified by history,” he says. “No matter if it’s hutongs, courtyard homes, or even the ancient walls…I just think we should get them protected for our children, and our children’s children.”

 

无论什么时候,你都能在北京的胡同内发现张巍的身影。胡同是一种对狭窄街道的称呼,这种小巷子曾经遍布北京城,拥有长达数世纪的悠久历史。作为一名业余摄影师,张巍手持相机,行走在小巷之间,拍摄道路两旁四合院的灰瓦和木门。有时候,他只能找到断壁残垣,暗示这里曾经住过人家;另一些时候,他把胡同消失前的那一刻用相机记录下来。

在此之前他便见证过那一刻:2000年6月,张巍家住了80年的四合院被一台推土机夷为平地,目的是给一栋五层的办公楼让地。从那时起,张巍专心投入到保护北京胡同的事业之中,以他所知的最好方式:一部相机和一个中文网站www.oldbeijing.org。2002年末,他甚至辞去在一家公关公司的工作,全身心地投入网站建设。

“我只想通过这个网站,纪念自己曾经住过的四合院,因为那里留下了我童年时代成长的所有回忆。”张巍说道。他白天去胡同拍照,晚上则将照片上传到网站上去。

不久以前,胡同还是北京的生活大动脉。它们从位于市中心的故宫周围发散出去,作为当地社区的聚会场所、购物市场、玩耍地点,以及居民的出行道路。胡同在中国其它城市也有,包括邻近的天津;但北京的胡同高度集中,显得一枝独秀。然而,这种胡同文化正在迅速消亡。老旧的四合院和胡同都面临拆迁,让步于闪闪发光的写字楼、现代公寓楼、购物商场和新修道路。据非盈利性胡同保护组织“北京文化遗产保护中心”称,北京在20世纪50年代有3,000多条胡同,但估计现存的只有1,000条左右。

“一些胡同永远消失了。”张巍说,“所以我想把它们留在照片里。”

张巍不知道的是,很多人在他的感召下加入了这个行列。每个周末,都有二、三十人─有外国人,也有本地人;有学生,也有专业人士─和张巍一起来到胡同,从各个角度拍摄照片。集体拍照“彷佛是一种抗议方式”,张巍说道。他的网站目前有超过12万张照片,记录了约700条胡同的各种形态─重新装修、断壁残垣,以及彻底摧毁。该网站每天吸引近2万名访客,目前有1.6万名注册会员。

37岁的陈立(Chen Li,音译)是国际家居用品店宜家(Ikea)的餐饮部经理。他每个周末都会带上相机去拍胡同。“在oldbeijing.org网站,吸引了各种不同的人,抱着各种不同的目的。”他说,“有些对建筑学更感兴趣,有些喜欢北京的文化,有些则只是摄影爱好者。”

虽然张巍的网站也许还没能拯救任何一条胡同免于消失,但该组织起到了宣传胡同保护的作用。“我们想让人们的心有所触动”,张巍说道。

张巍的努力也让其付出了代价。过去五年来,他已经花光了30万元人民币(约合44,000美元)的存款。现在,他连零花钱都不得不向退休的父母开口要(大约25块钱一天)。

“我敢肯定,我所做的会被历史承认”,张巍说,“不管是胡同也好,四合院也好,甚至古城墙也好……我认为这些东西都应该保留下来,为了我们的孩子,还有孩子们的孩子。”

View Video: http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid1435443541?bclid=1341026943&bctid=1632777748
View Chinese Version Link: http://chinese.wsj.com/gb/20080630/fea150656.asp?source=insidetoday

In Living Room, A Window Into the Games

The flat-screen plasma television was purchased two weeks ago for the long-awaited night of pride and pageantry. It sat on a low-slung cabinet that rested against a living-room wall in a small, cramped apartment, as a symbol of modernity fronting a diminished vestige of the past, a screen of high definition framed by what had been a window of elaborate carpentry detail.

“Beijing,” Jacques Rogge, the International Olympic Committee president, would say on the television with his trademark solemnity as the long and lavish opening ceremony of the Beijing Games neared its conclusion, “you are hosts to the present, and gateway to the future.”

From his couch, Zhang Wei could also look back more than a century.

“That window is 120 years old,” he said, pointing to a complex weave of pinewood on the wall behind the big screen. It was all he could save from the house in the narrow Beijing alleyway known here as a hutong that Zhang’s family had inhabited for 80 years.

The building was razed in 2000 to make way for an office tower, and the demolition changed Zhang Wei’s life. He became an activist in the preservation of the hutong, if mostly through the lens of his camera.

“We try to find parts of our heritage and inform the government of things that can be done but we do not get feedback,” said Zhang, 31. “What is lost is so much more than we can protect.”

But such talk on the night that was supposed to be about all China had gained? With the start of the ceremony minutes away Friday night, Zhang’s father had come in from the apartment across the hallway on the second floor of the austere building in the Shijingshan District on Beijing’s West Side.

“Don’t say that, don’t say that,” said Zhang Yuewen, 62, the product of another generation, a protective dad who worried what bounds his son was overstepping.

He became more relaxed, giddy even, when the subject changed to one that father, son and a healthy portion of China share a growing passion for.

“We love basketball,” Zhang Wei said. “My father and I will be watching all the games.”

“Kobe Bryant, the Lakers, I am a huge fan, I only wish Yao Ming could be with them so he could win the championship,” the elder Zhang said while his wife, Fan Guixin, and Zhang Wei’s girlfriend, Li Ying, settled in for the early fireworks display. Refreshments were served. An American journalist invited to watch the opening ceremony with a photographer and an interpreter were treated like part of the family.

By the time the big show began, all perceived societal flaws and bones of contention were on hold, would have to wait through a couple of more weeks and a trove of Chinese medals, although Zhang Yuewen guaranteed — “100 percent” — that the United States would win the men’s basketball gold, citing Bryant as the difference.

“I watch him all season and I see that he has matured, grown up,” he said. “For two years, all he wants is to shoot. This last year, he is passing to the others.”

Told that his assessment matched that of many experts in the United States, he shook my hand and asked if I could get him Bryant’s autograph. I promised to see what I could do and we both laughed. I’d made a friend.

The more I come to the Olympics, and this is my 10th, the more I agree with Rogge: the Games are too bloated — though not with sports, as he has maintained, but with self-aggrandizement, the belief in itself as a great global agent of peace.

The Olympics are more of a big, messy party that always has the potential to create as much acrimony as harmony. We should probably stop expecting too much and maybe, from that context, we can grudgingly come to grips with the unmet promises of the Chinese authorities and enjoy these Games, remember that they are also for ordinary folk like the Zhangs, and how excited and proud they are to have them.

Friday night, I asked Zhang Yuewen, a former steel factory worker, about China’s women’s volleyball victory in the 1981 World Cup that is considered the rebirth of Chinese sports after the Cultural Revolution. He nodded vigorously.

“Even now I can feel the excitement from the volleyball victory,” he said. “We celebrated because at that time many years ago we didn’t have much entertainment to watch.”

Now, along with the Lakers, he has the Olympics. He (and David Stern, no doubt) considers that progress.

When they played the Chinese national anthem Friday night, Zhang Yuewen swayed gently and mouthed the words. Bryant, his favorite Yank, would soon be coming at the back of the large American delegation as it marched into the architectural triumph they call the Bird’s Nest, followed later by Yao leading in the Chinese team.

It was easy to imagine families like the Zhangs in their modest homes all across China, on their couches, leaning forward, galvanized by the realization that it was time for the basketball games and the Beijing Games to begin.
 

From: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/09/sports/olympics/09araton.html?ref=sports

Beijing’s past faces its future

BEIJING, China (CNN) — As in Rome and Athens, ancient relics in Beijing stand in stark contrast to the highways, buildings and vehicles of the modern age. At Beijing’s Jianguomen, the fortification-like Ancient Observatory — dating from 1442 during the Ming Dynasty — dodges the overpasses of the Second Ring Road while standing within steps of a subway station.

To what extent Old Beijing — which can be defined as anytime from “ancient” to pre-1990s, depending on the context — can survive urban development post-Olympics is perhaps best answered by Beijing’s urban planners.

Among the endangered are the hutongs, or narrow alleys, and siheyuan, or courtyards, where city residents have long lived.

Zhang Wei started the Web site oldbeijing.org eight years ago to chart the decline in the number of Beijing’s hutongs and believes only 500 remain of the estimated 3,000 that existed six decades ago.

“This number is not including hutongs that are half destroyed,” he said.

An estimated 520,000 people moved to the Chinese capital last year alone, according to state-run news agency Xinhua. The consequence is that low-lying houses and hutongs face destruction to accommodate the high-rises needed to house so many people, Zhang said.

“It’s coming,” said Mike Meyer, a three-year resident of Dashilar, a maze of hutongs within a 10-minute walk south of the new egg-like National Grand Theatre near Tiananmen Square. “My landlord told me my lease ends in September, that maybe we should go month to month.”

Public notices by the Beijing Municipal Construction Committee are up around the neighborhood, listing which addresses face relocation. Those fated for the bulldozer would get the white character chai (meaning “tear down”) painted on its wall.

“No one’s ever seen the character painted,” said Meyer, who’s chronicled the lives of his neighbors in a new book, “The Last Days of Old Beijing.” Referring to the invisible “Hand,” Meyer said that once the character is painted on a building, “you’re a goner.”

The destruction of neighborhoods was what prompted Sze Tsung Leong to photograph Beijing and other Chinese cities — including Nanjing, Pingyao, and Xiamen — between 2002 and 2005. The New York-based artist visited China for the first time in 1994 and again in 2001.

“It was like visiting two different eras, as so much of the city that I first saw in 1994 had been destroyed and replaced with new construction,” he wrote in an e-mail to CNN.

In an essay for his resulting book “History Images,” Leong referred to the “erasure of history.” As he put it, each shift in history — “from dynasty to dynasty, from imperial rule to communism, from communism to the market economy” — seeks to define itself with the erasure of the past. The pattern and scale of destruction were similar in all China’s major cities, Leong found.

A drive along Beijing’s Second Ring Road can give a sense of the scale of what has been lost of Beijing’s imperial city, the walls of which once protected “one of the largest, most unique, and most intact Imperial Cities in the world,” he added in the e-mail.

The Qianmen area, particularly southeast of the Qianmen gate — home to Dashilar and Meyer’s house — and south of the Beijing Railway Station, was where one can best see the juxtaposition of demolished neighborhoods amid the new buildings that would replace them, Leong noted.

Within a few minutes’ walk of Meyer’s home is Liulichang, Beijing’s 750-meter (half-mile) antiques street which has flourished since the Yuan dynasty 800 years ago.

During the past eight years, the government put in $146.2 million into the renovation of hutongs and siheyuan around there, said Kong Fanzhi, director of Beijing Municipal Administration of Cultural Heritage at a news conference in July.

“Wal-Mart is down the street,” Meyer said, pointing. Anchoring it is the Sogo Department Store and hotels.

Tenants on Beijing’s new shopping streets won’t be the post office, Meyer said, “but Apple, Prada and Starbucks.” The investment is going toward the “renewal” or makeover of buildings and streets, like Liulichang itself, Meyer added.

Nonetheless, such new establishments are popular among local residents, sometimes not even for the products sold, Meyer said. “It’s air-conditioned,” Meyer said of Wal-Mart, while Starbucks offered anonymity and “alone time” from Dashilar’s high density, he added.

Zhang is among those who lost their homes within the Qianmen area. He started oldbeijing.org to remember his house and hutong, Dongbanbijie, which were demolished to accommodate a widened street. As time went on, the collection of similar stories grew. Aside from the 16,400 registered users on his Web site, 1,000 people have contributed pictures over the years, Zhang said.

“The history of development is the history of demolition,” said Zhang. “In recent years, development gets faster, and we see hutongs disappearing faster.”

Life in the hutongs has its pluses and drawbacks.

Many buildings, constructed hundreds of years ago, are beyond repair, with walls unable to bear pipes or with rudimentary electricity wiring. Meyer’s courtyard has no backdoor, presenting a fire hazard, and the public bathroom is a five-minute walk away.

Nonetheless, his home is comfortable and seals out water and Beijing’s famous dust storms, Meyer said. “I haven’t had anything stolen,” he added. “Never seen a cockroach or a rat.” He pays 800 RMB ($116) rent per month for his two-room, 200-square meter apartment, double the size of his neighbors’ homes in the siheyuan.

Meyer estimates negotiations would start at $1,000 per square meter despite what he considers a worth of $8,000 per square meter (55,000 RMB), given the location.

Meyer says he can “completely stand” in the shoes of government officials who’d view such neighborhoods as “slums” in the city center, so close to the Great Hall of the People and Tiananmen Square. Beijing was merely following the path of other world cities, such as London, Paris and New York, he said.

Reputations and promotions of city officials aren’t built on what is protected but on what is built, Meyer said.

There are residents, particularly young people living with grandparents and wanting more space, who welcome the writing of the “Hand” as a way to get into high-rises and start anew, Meyer said. In a role reversal, grandparents may find themselves moving with their grandchildren out of the city center into the suburbs.

As for Meyer, a resident of Beijing since 1997, he says he’ll leave it when he gets his notice. Cities rejuvenate while people get old and sentimental, he said. Nonetheless, “I miss Beijing every day,” he added.

From: http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/asiapcf/08/25/beijing.hutongs/index.html

Save our hutong / 拯救胡同

Arthur: unknown
From China Daily 05/16/2007 page10

Years back, when Beijing’s municipal authorities pledged to respect the city’s architectural legacies in urban renovation, we celebrated that precious, though belated, wisdom.

As the Beijing Olympics organizers challenge themselves to present the city’s and the country’s cultural splendor, we shared the innocent hope that more of the increasingly scarce hutong traditional alleys and siheyuan traditional quadruple residential courtyards would survive the city’s urge to put on a new face for 2008.

But such hopes were smashed yesterday as workers began to pull down buildings at 9 Dongsi Batiao, a government-designated area for protection.

Local residents tried to stop the demolition, but in vain. Nor did conservation advocates’ and cultural relics protection departments’ passionate objections work.

A notice posted by the developer says buildings in 26 old courtyards on Dongsi Batiao will be demolished by May 26.

We disagree with extreme conservationists who want everything old to be preserved. But the municipal authorities must not play the indifferent onlooker when the city’s cultural identity is being squandered.

The Dongsi Batiao area, an important part of old Beijing, is among the first 25 areas of cultural and historical significance the city has promised to preserve.

But now, 26 courtyards will be gone in less than two weeks. And there is no sign that any powerful office of the municipal government will step to halt the demolition.

The local bureau for the protection of cultural relics did express disapproval. But it is not in a position to stop the demolition.

While the public questions the city’s messy chain of command – with different parties quoting divergent authorizations – we are more concerned about the immediate fate of the endangered courtyards. Once they are gone, they are gone forever.

Of course developers can build replicas. They are quite addicted to that. (当然那些开发商可以建造很多复制品,他们就热衷于此)

The city government has just inaugurated an expensive project to renovate the historical Qianmen area. The idea is to recreate the architectural look of the late Qing Dynasty (1611-1911) and early Republican years (1911-1949).

But it will be a shame if the genuine heritage is destroyed.

I am a Beijinger, I mean Beijinger

I was born and grew up in Beijing. But I am not considered a real Beijinger, at least by people around me. Although I have always argued that I am a native of the city, my confidence stands shattered by an online quiz on Beijing slang.

It has 100 questions of which I answered 70 correct. I’ll admit I guessed many of them. But the quiz master has decided that only those with at least 95 correct are real Beijingers. I was deemed just a relative of the city.

 图片点击可在新窗口打开查看

A typical hutong near Shichahai Lake in Beijing. Photos by Lin Jinghua

I have to say that I have never heard of many of them. A friend of mine says they are only popular in the hutong (small alleys) downtown or inside today’s second ring road, which used to be the city wall.

I am not alone in Beijing. Many Beijingers today are those born and raised in this city after our parents moved here from across the country.

Being an ancient capital spanning six dynasties, Beijing has long been a melting pot for different cultures. Not only has it been ruled by the Han people but also the Mongolians and Manchu people.

In the 1950s, many young people like my parents came to work in the capital and start their families here. They brought with them the different cultures of their hometowns. When it came to the 1980s, more and more people began to seek their fortune here. And this trend continues. Foreigners have added their bit to stirring this “pot”, bringing in their way of living.

But this ancient capital has maintained the glory of past dynasties. The Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven, the Summer Palace and the Badaling section of the Great Wall are must-see Beijing attractions for tourists.

I love the hutong alleys stretching from the Forbidden City.

Though I was not raised in the old hutong courtyards, I have always had a passion for those gray siheyuan courtyards and am very curious about the life and people behind the small wooden doors. Their lives are quite different from those in the rest of the city. They speak differently with a strong local accent, laden with er.

I have kept the habit of strolling in the narrow lanes in downtown areas whenever I have time, though many of the old residences have given way to box-like apartment blocks. Life is quiet back in the alleys.

According to historical records, the city used to be connected by more than 6,000 hutong alleys. The hutong-style dwelling started in the Yuan Dynasty (1279-1368). The gray courtyard residence stood in striking contrast to the bright yellow roof and red wall of the Forbidden City.

The hutong alleys are rapidly succumbing to the city’s development. The ones remaining are a big draw for residents and outsiders.

The small lanes near the Shichahai Lake area have become one of the hot spots for tourists. They may find taking a tricycle for a two-hour hutong tour attractive, but I suggest turning into an ordinary lane along any street in Dongcheng or Xicheng districts. The doors are usually open. Don’t hesitate to drop in. Beijingers are very friendly. They may tell you a story about their courtyards or treat you to a cup of tea.

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Beijing food is a mix of different cultures. Hot-pot mutton brought by Kublai Khan is one of the city’s winter favorites. Roasted Peking duck is as well-known as the Great Wall. Beijing gathers the masters of the four famous cooking styles of the country including Shandong, Huaiyang (in the lower reaches of the Yangtze River), Sichuan and Cantonese. Many foreign chefs have added their own unique styles. But I wouldn’t recommend any royal cuisine or snacks. They look good but taste…oh well!

Beijing is an exciting place to stay, though it is hit by sandstorms in the spring, is clogged with traffic and is overflowing with people.

I enjoy taking a stroll in the Summer Palace after sunset when the tourists have left. I can find small and nice eateries to satisfy my taste buds. There is the traditional Chinese cuisine, exotic tastes from abroad, or the popular fusion foods to choose from. I never feel bored in the evenings with so much on offer on stage, in concert halls and in theaters.

Even if nobody believes I’m a real Beijinger, I think I’m a very close relative of the city.

Hutong demolition

Beijing’s move towards modernity comes at a price…

Beijing has been burnt down, destroyed in war, damaged by earthquakes and ravaged by the changing of each dynasty. More recently the Red Guards of the Cultural Revolution spent their days chopping the heads off Buddhas, burning books and smashing religious relics. Many old buildings, homes and temples were destroyed – even the 500-year-old Ming Dynasty city walls and gates were replaced with the Second Ring Road in the 1950s. Today many of the buildings that give character to the city – the hutongs – are being bulldozed to make way for anonymous skyscrapers and city infrastructure in the run-up to the Olympics.

Beijing’s hutongs are intricate maze-like lanes, made up of courtyard houses built with incredible attention to detail in accordance with the principles of feng shui. Hutong is a Mongolian word meaning water well, indicating that homes like these were built around wells since the 13th century. Due to the imperial rule that no building should be higher than the palaces, these low-level buildings spread out from the Forbidden City, creating a large part of the physical landscape of the city. More importantly, hutongs formed the social framework of the city. With several families living in close proximity, using communal courtyards and toilets, the community network and support system was very tight. Still today in the hutongs of south Beijing and around Houhai, men drink beer on the streets while watching the world go by as women gossip and knit, and children chase and kick balls off the walls of the narrow alleys.

But increasingly, sprayed on the wall of a hutong in white paint, is the character ‘chai’ – demolish. The increase in land prices, combined with the urgent need for further infrastructure, has led to large swathes of hutongs being destroyed to make way for road expansion and new property developments. With almost no legal tenants’ rights, combined with the rampant corruption of officials and property developers, land is cleared with almost no concern for either the heritage being destroyed or the people who once lived there. Residents are often offered paltry compensation and have to move outside the city – forced evictions are not uncommon, with families protesting and even using suicide as a tool to be heard.

Records show that there were 3,679 hutongs in the 1980s. That figure has dropped by over 40 per cent, with up to 600 hutongs destroyed each year. Homes, shops and restaurants have all been demolished, most notably in the south of Beijing around Qianmen and Dazhalan – home to some of the most interesting and famous hutongs in the city. Although the government has said it will protect a few dozen of the older hutongs, we can only hope there will be some left by 2008.

Link: http://www.timeout.com/cn/en/beijing/sightseeing/feature/3723/hutong-demolition.html

 

What is left of Beijing’s city walls and gates, Getting in touch with old Beijing

During Ming Dynasty, Beijing set up its own guard system to defend itself. Because of the great threat of the Mongolian tribes, Beijing’s City Wall and Gates are well constructed. Qing extended Ming’s Wall with jar-shaped city around each Gate. The system of Beijing’s old town is sophisticated. It comprises with 4 levels: Outer City, Inner City, Imperial City, and Forbidden City. At the beginning, there was only an Inner City. Then, after the move of the capital to Beijing, Zhu Di constructed the Forbidden City on the basis of Yuan Dynasty’s West Palace. Imperial City was build around the Forbidden City, but this part is not for millitary uses. The Outer City was built during Jiajiang’s reign, Ming Dynasty, after Mongolian Yexian Khan’s besiege of Beijing. The last construction of Beijing’s guard system was carried out in Qianlong’s reign.

There are 16 city gates in Inner City and Outer City, and nearly each of them has a alias:
Inner City:
Xizhi Gate (alias: Heyi Gate): demolished in 1972
Dongzhi Gate (alias: Suqing Gate): demolished in 1974
Fucheng Gate (alias: Pingze Gate): demolished in 1974
Chaoyang Gate (alias: Qihua Gate): demolished in 1972
Xuanwu Gate (alias: Shunzhi Gate): demolished in 1974
Chongwen Gate (alias: Hade Gate): demolished in 1973
Zhengyang Gate (alias: Qianmen, known as Front Gate): still standing
Desheng Gate (known as Gate of Moral Victory): demolished in 1923, but the fort is still standing
Anding Gate (known as Gate of Peace): demolished in 1973

Outter City:
Xibian Gate: demolished in 1953
Dongbian Gate: demolished in 1969
Guang’an Gate (alias: Zhangyi Gate): demolished in 1970
Guangqu Gate (alias: Shawo Gate): demolished in 1922
You’an Gate: demolished in 1958
Zuo’an Gate (alias: Gangcha Gate): demolished in 1932
Yongding Gate: demolished in 1971, but was reconstructed in 2005

There is a axis in Beijing, that is, the city is symmetrical constructed. The gates are also placed symmetrically. The construction style of the gates is different between Inner and Outer City. But generally speaking, Inner City Gates are much larger than Outer City’s. The largest gate is Zhengyang Gate, which is 25 meters high, and is still standing today. The smallest is Xibian Gate, which is only 11.2 meters high and 11.5 meters wide. Each of the Gates consists of a Gate, a Fort Tower, and a urn-shaped city. There are no direct entrances to the Gate in the Inner City, people had to walk around the Fort Tower to the side door to enter the urn-shaped city, and then go in through the Gate (Zhengyang Gate is the only exception).

Each Gate in the Inner City had its own purpose: Xizhi Gate was used to carry in the water for Forbidden City; Fucheng Gate was used to carry in the coals; Chaoyang Gate was used to carry in the firewood; Desheng Gate was used for armys to go out Beijing; Anding Gate was used for armys to go into Beijing; Xuanwu Gate was used for generals to enter; Chongwen Gate was used for ministers to enter. …

There are four City Gates in the Imperial City, the well known Tiananmen (Gate of Heavenly Peace) is one of them. The other three are: Di’anmen (Gate of Earthly Peace), Xi’anmen (Gate of West Peace), Dong’anmen (Gate of East Peace). And the Forbidden City also has four gates: Wu Gate (Noon Gate), Shenwu Gate (Holiness and Chivalry Gate), Xihua Gate, Donghua Gate.

Beyond these Gates, there were also many ornamental Gates, such as Left Changan Gate, Right Changan Gate, Zhonghua Gate (known as Great Ming Gate in Ming Dynasty, and Great Qing Gate in Qing Dynasty), Xinhua Gate, etc.

Besides, Fuxing Gate and Jianguo Gate are not really “Gates”, they were just opened breaches on the wall. They were “built” during Japanese’s invasion. Heping Gate and a less famous Shuiguan Gate were open by foreign forces in 1900. Obviously, they are not “Gate” at all.

The demolition to Beijing’s City Wall and Gates is a great tragedy. But fortunately, there are some relics standing today: Desheng Gate’s Fort Tower, Zhengyang Gate, Southeast Fort Tower, Wall relics from Chongwen Gate to Southeast Fort Tower, and Wall relics near Xibian Gate. The government now realized the importance of the reconstruction of some of the Gates, so that’s why Yongding Gate was reconstructed in the year 2005….

Link: http://www.chinahistoryforum.com/index.php?showtopic=16462