If people ask me where do I come from, I have no choice but to say, I am a Beijing local, being born and raised here, and spent most of my life in this city. At age 18, when I was about to leave this giant creature for college in London, I couldn’t be more excited to be able to escape from this place. Pollution, traffic jam, un-walkable roads, I have so many complains to this place where I call it home. It was not until age 24, when I came back and spent a year working in a Hutong alleyway, did I discover the other side of Beijing, and start to reconcile with my home city.
My workplace is located in the city’s heart, hidden in an old Hutong called Fangjia, 700 meters in length and 7 meters in width. If viewing my active area as a human body, this Hutong is like the central spine, linking all routes and places together. In the morning, I walk on this spine till the right chest, that’s where my office is. If going a little bit further to where the stomach is, you could grab fresh fruits and snacks from a grocery shop. In the lunchtime, if you follow the direction where this figure’s left arm extends, you will arrive at a crossing where each road leads you to some tasty bistros.
The Hutong residents you can see during the day are mostly elders. Being retired and stayed at home, they expand their territories to the Hutong’s public space. Stools, old armchairs and sofa circle out an outdoor chatting room, with bird cages hanging above the head. You wouldn’t believe there is still family raising duck in this metropolis full of glass-and-steel skyscrapers, and I was so excited to find a fig tree planted in front of a house’s gate. Everyday’s wandering in the Hutong was a treasure-hunting game for me. I gradually started to feel closer to this little alley way, as if I belonged here.
In an year, I witnessed the life circle of plants and tress, from blossom to withering.
Living in the Hutong, the strongest feeling I’ve gained is a sensitivity for the passing of time and season. This is gained from staying closer with nature, and staying away from the man-made structures which have already taken over the majority of space within the city. Once stepping out of the Hutong, the world immediately becomes noisy and fluorescent, and you are distracted right away, forgetting to notice the plants, trees, breeze, birds, or perhaps, there’s simply hardly any of these lovely creatures and things out there in a busy urban block.
My experience prompts me to think what kind of urban fabric is the best for human living. Interacting with each other on a street level, or squeezing an entire life within a unit on the 20th floor of an apartment building? However, I am also aware that the pastoral fantasy may not be the best way to imagine Beijing’s future. So, what should it be?
Jenny and Figs 