Beijing -- Big and Beautiful, Old & New

By Patricia Mohr@

Walking through the streets of Beijing, I got the feeling China is constantly remaking itself. Modern and traditional influences are interwoven throughout the city. Workmen build things up as other workmen tear things down. Colorful old shops fill the eye with cheap clothes and products, while other streets are anchored by exquisite marble and premium brand-name stores. Some streets are neatly landscaped. Other shabbier streets are hidden from view by tall walls.

The differences are rich, and it makes me wonder what China will emerge from the contrasts.

It’s my first day in Beijing—or for that matter, anywhere in Asia. It’s been nearly a year since Beijing hosted the Summer Olympics, and I am eager to see the city. I set out with a friend from my tour group, Tim.

Having arrived late the night before to quiet and deserted streets, I was surprised to find the same streets bustling over with activity in the morning. With more than 13 million people living in Beijing, the capital is China’s second largest city, next only to Shanghai. The streets are grander than most city roadways. They are more like boulevards. People travel by foot, bike, motorbike, bus and car.

The most interesting scenes are off the main roads in the neighborhood alleys called hutongs. They are not dark and dirty as one might expect urban alleys to be. To the contrary, Beijing’s alleys are clean and airy. The atmosphere is relaxed, and it is where city life exists. Old-time customers linger around outdoor café tables, drinking beer and smoking. Others savor bites of steam-cooked hotpots. Often, groups of men sit at tables playing games like mahjong. Many wave a casual hello, saying “ni hao.”

The Old & the New

As Tim and I made our way through the city, we found busy alleys that led to deserted ones, which led to other busy alleys. Sometimes, it was hard to distinguish which streets were off-limits due to vacancy and which were open for business.

One street was definitely open for business. It was a newly remodeled grand boulevard lined by chic boutiques and decorated by small trees and huge shiny pots holding violet flowers.

The name of the avenue is Qianmen Dajie, and it is clear that city planners take exceptional pride in it. Five green-shirted security officers stood at the entrance seemed to take satisfaction at shoeing away a dread-locked, white couple. Bicycles (and perhaps deadlocks too) were not permitted. The street, after all, was meant for posh pedestrians.

Qianmen Dajie resembled a Hollywood movie set. It was new and picturesque. The avenue was impeccably clean, in part because there were so few pedestrians. The light grey concrete and brick of the buildings and sidewalks looked cool to the touch. A tiny trolley ran in solitarily and slowly down the middle of it of the avenue.

The renovated boulevard seemed to symbolize China’s desire to bring back an earlier, golden age. In the 1920s and 1930s, Qianmen Dajie was a lively and fashionable place to be. It wasn’t yet clear in 2009 if it would attract similar crowds in the modern age. Only a few shops had opened, and only a handful of people meandered down the street. Those that did seemed a little lost or at least undecided. They neither shopped nor ate nor gathered.

A single bird chirped along while a woman sitting along some steps screamed hysterically. Her high pitch voice sounded like an animal caught in a trap. It is not clear what trap had caught her, but her companion simply waved onlookers away without call for alarm. 

On one side of Qianmen was an adjoining street that was booming with activity. An archway sign above with Chinese characters marked the entrance and the exit from Qianmen.

Beyond the Arch

Once past the arch, another world appears. It was a world filled with people hustling to and from, shops overflowing with cheap products, red-lanterns hanging in the air to bring the merchants, pounding jackhammers, huge cement pipes and concrete blocks that block the path, and street lanterns with white and red flags.

Two women with ponytails clasp elbows as they crossed the street, relying on the other for support against the rough pavement. Two heavyset middle age women in printed pants clashing noisily with their blouses trailed behind carrying large sacks. A man dressed in a pale grey that matched his silver hair hunched over as he walked.

I wondered, where did all the people come from and where were they going?
The hutong neighborhood was neither new nor old. Like much of modern-day China, it was under construction. And it busied itself with labor-intensive activity. In a corner shop, three saleswomen stared blankly beyond the toys, some colored, some bobbing. Outside construction workers dressed in bright orange jumpsuits pounded the pavement.

Tim tried to engage a salesgirl in conversation. The conversation ended where it started. “I want money,” she said, getting to the point in a friendly but blunt manner.

We continued onward. For we were just beginning to get to know the new China.