Arrival in Beijing

from a scroll depicting the bullet train

I had traveled by train to Souzhou, and then from a brand new ultramodern station outside Souzhou (that, however has polished marble, permanently wet from omnipresent cleaners, and so deadly slippery, floor) to Beijing in about 5 hours. It was far enough to see a change in the landscape due to topography and climate. Outside the windows, the small rice fields continued for about an hour (200+ miles) and then things started getting hilly. Eventually, I started seeing corn growing by the trackside, tall and lush, but also in tiny allotments. There must be vast tracts of corn, rice, fruit trees somewhere. These were like the back gardens I saw from the train between Bilbao and Donostia, Spain: small enough for some person to care for. But-- grow your own rice? I can see growing your own tomatoes or veggies, but rice?

Jing Yuan Courtyard Hotel

I arrived at Beijing after dark and the cabdriver was, unusually, cranky and irritated, had a hard time finding the address I gave him, couldn't read a map...eventually dropped me off near where I was staying, but there were fences between me and the place; I couldn't see the place in the picture I had. A fair amount of walking around before I found it. But the courtyard was a refuge and oasis surrounded by construction sites and 6-storey shopping centers. In these cities, there is a facade of fancy stores; near me were places I wouldn't set foot in selling upmarket designer goods. But there are tiny gaps that snake behind the grand stores and hotels that lead to alleyways-- hutong-- of old (well, 100 years old) courtyard houses that have been divided and subdivided. They have electricity and water, but not usually bathrooms; there are public baths every few hundred feet. The living spaces are tiny, but each does have an outside courtyard with green space-- sort of a patio with a tree or two and maybe potted plants or a flowerbed; and the ubiquitous squash/cucumber plants, maybe pole beans. The doors are generally left open, and you get a glimpse of doors, bikes, guys sitting in the courtyard playing cards or Chinese chess under a light . . . there are many small shops selling sundries or produce and of course bottled water facing the alley, and also dumpling shops and grills that in the afternoon on sell skewers of meat, piles of peanuts and edamame and beer; tables spill into the alley. And a few sitdown restaurants, that serve food not too different from Chinese restaurants here-- stirfries with gloppy sauce. But I am sure I was missing a lot because of being an obvious foreigner and not understanding the language. Every morning people emerged from these hutong looking fresh and ready for work; the subway was a block or so away. I passed the same 'security guard' at the huge construction site nearby each morning; he recognized me soon. Silly how such a superficial thing makes you feel like a tiny part of the neighborhood. In fact, no matter how long I stayed, I would be a stranger, my experience so different and unimaginable to the people here that they may not see the basic human experience we have in common.