Feature: Tourist For A Day

Posted: June 24, 2012 | Author: Gwen Pew | Filed under: FEATURE, Travel | Tags: Beijing, China, tourism, travel, trip | 2 Comments »

It’s easy to start taking things for granted when you have lived in a city for any significant period of time. Beijing has been my home for the past seven years. My family still lives here, so I would come back at least once a year even during my time at university. The city has always been special to me, but when people ask me to describe it I never feel like I can do it justice. I know this sounds cliche, but Beijing really is something else.

When I was told by my parents that we would move here back in 2005, I refused to speak to them for a week and maturely nicknamed the place ‘City of Doom’. I was perfectly happy living in London at the time, and could not understand for the life of me why we would want to move to a place that I considered severely backwards.

We arrived on Christmas Day and found ourselves in a city empty of festive lights and carols. The only things that greeted us were a pile of yellow snow on the pavement and a cab that looked (and felt) like it was about to give up on life.

Incredible things happened in the next few years, however, as Beijing prepared for the 2008 Olympic Games. I watched it change before my eyes. Decrepit buildings were torn down as fast as glassy skyscrapers grew up. The cars on the road got shinier and less like scrap metal monsters. The subway map that used to consist of only two lines has now multiplied to incorporate 15 (and counting). McDonald’s and Starbucks started to pop up everywhere.

The Beijing today is a completely different landscape, and I have grown to love every quirky thing about it. People unapologetically clearing their throats and talking at an unnecessarily high volume may be uncouth, but it is part of the city’s soundtrack. Driving through the streets is like being in a bad video game, with cars travelling in all directions and their drivers dismissing traffic signs as mere decoration. But once you get used to the craziness, it’s really quite amusing.

I can now say that I know the city relatively well. I know where to go, how to get there, and what to expect when I arrive. What I have forgotten, however, is how Beijing looks from the other side, when it’s seen through the eyes of a tourist.

I’ve played the role of tour guide many times when visiting the big local attractions with family friends, but not this time. This time, as I joined my boyfriend and his family on a day trip around town, I was to be tourist in my own city for once. It was a surprisingly refreshing experience.

Our first stop was the Beijing Capital Museum. The museum was established in the 80s, but the current building only opened in 2005. It is home to some incredible pieces of relics, from traditional wedding outfits to gold plates to calligraphy scrolls by old masters. Admittedly, it’s not the most child friendly place and little ones may find that it can get a bit dry after a while. I’ve been here on a school trip before, but having James, our tour guide, with us really made a difference. It was interesting to hear him talk us through the items on display while giving us China’s history in manageable – if somewhat censored and carefully phrased - doses.

We then had lunch at a famous vegetarian restaurant, Gongdelin. As a meat-lover, I was not especially impressed, especially since the dishes were all named after their carnivorous counterparts: ‘Sweet and Sour Pork’ was actually made of lotus roots, and ‘Gongbao Chicken’ was really tofu. Much as I felt cheated, though, it was still a place I would not have even glanced at otherwise.

After the food we did one of the most touristy things you can do in Beijing – we rode a rickshaw through hutongs in the Houhai area. Hutongs are narrow alleyways where most people used to live in the old days. There were once over 6000 of them in the city, tour guide James told us, but urbanisation means that there are now only less than 400 left.

I was initially sceptical about the rickshaw ride because it’s so embarrassingly cliche, but it turned out to be a lot of fun. Our driver was a thin, tanned man in his 40s who has been doing his job every day for the past eight years. He also qualifies as a speed devil. It was both terrifying and exciting sitting in the back watching him weave in and out of other rickshaws, bikes, and cars with breathtaking speed, shouting ‘Ey, ey!’ as he pushed pedestrians out of the way.

‘I keep fit riding the bike every day,’ he says, laughing. ‘It’s a healthy job!’

He dropped us off at the Former Residence of Soong Ching-ling (website in Chinese), where James gave us a quick tour. Madame Soong was the wife of Sun Yat-sen, Founding Father and the first President of the People’s Republic of China. Like her husband, Madame Soong also played an important role in the Communist Party. She became the only Honorary President the PRC has had to date.

Her former home, although a lot more comfortable than other living areas of her time, is distinctly simple. James pointed out that nowadays even the poor people’s houses are more luxurious than Madame Soong’s. Her high status is only reflected in the size of her siheyuan - Chinese quadrangles where four buildings surround a courtyard area. The gardens around the house are also impressive. As a dove-lover, Madame Soong used to spend much of her time outdoors tending the birds.

After walking around for a while, James informed us that we would be visiting the home of a lower class family next. And so the rickshaw driver took us to the Zhang residence, located on Beiguanfang Hutong, where our journey on wheels ended. This siheyuan is much smaller than Madame Soong’s, but it’s nonetheless very cozy.

Mr. Zhang, a former mechanic, greeted us and gave a brief history of his family home with the help of a photo album. They have owned the grounds for over a century, he said, and it has been passed down through five generations. Their courtyard is a happy riot of fruit and vegetables, and Mr. Zhang’s face lit up as he pointed to the twirls of grape vine and green tomatoes peeking out from their leafy homes.

After Mr. Zhang’s retirement he and his wife have been carrying on the family craft of paper cutting from home. They have converted one of the rooms into a workshop, in which all their wonderfully intricate works are made and sold.

We then bid our goodbyes and James led us down Yandai Xiejie, an alley that resembled a Chinese version of The Shambles in York, UK. There were shops on both sides, selling everything from qipao (traditional Chinese dresses) to postcards. A few more minutes’ walk took us to our final destination of the day – Gulou and Zhonglou, the Drum and Bell Towers of Beijing respectively.

I’ve passed by these magnificent buildings many times, but have never given them a second thought, let alone make the effort to step inside. James handed us the tickets and ushered us towards the entrance of Zhonglou. I peered up and felt momentarily queazy.

‘The guide books all say that there are 70 steps,’ said James. ‘But I’ve only ever counted 69… Anyway, let’s go.’

And so began the long march. Fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as anticipated, but I lost count of my steps half way up and therefore cannot confirm either figures.

The view from the top should have been stunning were it not for the white smog that covered the city like a giant ball of cotton candy, but the bell alone was worth climbing up the stairs for. The massive copper structure was built in the 13th century and renovated and relocated to its present location in the early 15th century.

Legend says that the Emperor had ordered the bell to be cast in three months after three years of failure, threatening to kill all the craftsmen if this were not achieved. When the set date came, however, the copper was still not properly set.

Just as the men thought that they were all doomed, the head coppersmith’s daughter, Hua Xian, ran forward and jumped into the furnace. The fire immediately roared and the copper began to change colour. As heartbroken as the coppersmith was, he ordered the bell to be cast, and it was beautifully complete by the time the Emperor arrived. Hua Xian has since been referred to as the Casting Bell Goddess.

The bell was the city’s official timekeeping mechanism until the end of the Qing dynasty, and James told us that it used to be struck every two hours. Sadly, its deep bellow can now only be heard once a year on Chinese New Year, and even then it’s mostly drowned out by the cackles of fireworks.

We then stumbled our way back down to ground level and made a final stop at the Bell Tower Tea House. There, a lady called Miss Deng introduced us to various types of tea as well as their characteristics and benefits. As a half-Brit and avid tea-drinker, I thought this was an apt way to end our day. We sampled some great teas, but my favourite was without a doubt the Lychee and Rose.

All in all I had a great day. I would not have had the motivation to make such a trip by myself, but I am so glad I went along. I learnt more about Beijing that day than I did in the past few years, just because I’ve never had much of a reason to do so in my daily life.

I found out, for example, that the wires tracing the rooftops of ancient buildings are there to protect them from lightning. I also learnt that the city gates are aligned so that in the old days when they were all opened, you could stand at one end of Beijing and see right through to the other end.

The biggest lesson I learnt from the trip, though, is that it’s good to play tourist in one’s home city once in a while. This is especially the case here in Beijing, where thousands of years of history has been preserved and is allowed to mingle with the modern world. And sometimes, in a place that is still undergoing such rapid change, one does need to take a step back and just see the city for what it has been, and for what it is now.

I feel that I got to re-know my city that day, and can appreciate it even more afterwards. I really enjoyed myself despite how cheesy everything felt at the time, and would definitely recommend doing something similar wherever you are.

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