A Taste of Hutong Life

Sorry for the extreme delay in post! I just returned from a two week vacation with my real family through Beijing, Lijiang, Shangrila, Shanghai, and Hangzhou. It was an absolutely wonderful trip and seeing my family was amazing. I was happy to see them in good health and humor, and loved watching them explore the city I now call home. I have a very long blog in the works because there is much to say about our travels through China, but first I'd like to post another English essay I wrote shortly before my winter break. In English we read an essay from the book Wild Grass by Ian Johnson about the destruction of historic hutongs for new real estate developments. Then our English teacher assigned us to go on a scavenger hunt through the city visiting some of the sights mentioned in the essay and talking with current hutong residents. We then had to pick one of the items on the list that we had completed and write about it. As a hutong dweller, I had many interviews with the people living around me to find out more about what they thought of hutong life. Hope you like it!
The deep rattling sucking noise of phlegm climbing up a throat like a locomotive chugging out of a tunnel. Then the pronounced, heavy spit into a sink. It is so loud it sounds as if it were happening in the room, even though I know it is occurring just outside the hutong's paper thin walls. I used to shudder every time I heard it but today I don't even look up from my Chinese homework. Half way through writing the next character my sliding door is thrown wide open. At the door way stands my 7 year old mischievous neighbor with an impish grin spread across his face. Today he has donned a stained cartoon Spider man t-shirt, but has forgotten the bottom half of the outfit. He takes one look at me, laughs, and runs back into my family's living room where my host parents sit apparently oblivious to the intrusion. After being ignored for several seconds he takes off, giggling, back to his own section of the hutong.
            When my English teacher assigned our class a scavenger hunt to find various hutong locations in Beijing, I was ready to learn more about the fast disappearing edifices. After having read Wild Grass by Ian Johnson in class, and hearing his views on the government's destruction of hutongs, our mission was to find some of the oldest hutongs in Beijing, see some of the new real-estate developments that have replaced destroyed hutongs, and talk to residents of the ancient courtyard homes. Half of the locations on the list were in my backyard, the closest being Ju'er Hutong, an ancient alley about 3 minutes from my home. I scouted out most of the locations on the list and found it very interesting, however, it was the conversations with hutong residents that were most informative and enlightening.
            My host father sits across from me on a cracked pink plastic lawn chair. I ask him what he thinks of living in a hutong. He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment from behind his wire rimmed spectacles, his fingers laced on his lap. He tells me that he has lived in hutongs his whole life. Even today, his mother lives in the hutong he grew up in, not far from the one he owns now which means he can see his 70 year old mother everyday. My host father's eyes have a glint of nostalgia as he recounts his memories of growing up in a hutong. He tells me of his childhood adventures ice skating on the Hou Hai lake, just a 5 minute walk from his home, and playing tag with his siblings through the snaking alley ways. He admits, life was simple and there wasn’t a lot of space, but that there was an incredible sense of community between all the hutong dwellers. Today, this sense of community is still a main reason my host father likes hutong life. "I know every single person in this hutong," he tells me proudly. Moreover, he says that this kind of community is the perfect atmosphere to raise a child in. His own daughter, Wang Qian, now grown up and away at college, grew up in a safe and kid friendly environment. All of the other hutong residents looked out for her when necessary and because the neighborhood was very quiet with few cars daring to wedge their way through the narrow alley, there were no worries when she wanted to play in the street.
When I ask my host father if he finds living in a hutong comfortable, his eye brows knit tightly. He concedes that it isn't very big and some hutongs are not in good condition, but that his hutong has every thing his family needed. There is hot water, enough room for Wang Qian to have her own bedroom, and a sizable living room. Moreover, when I ask him what he thinks about living in an apartment in comparison to living in a hutong, I find out that he actually owns a 3 bedroom apartment in Beijing, but rents it out because he doesn't find it as comfortable.
Wang Qian sits on the faded white sofa with her laptop in her hands, her Ipod to her left, and a brand box set collection of Gossip Girl DVDs to her right. She glances past me at the shiny flat screen screen TV on which a group of game show contestants try to jump from Styrofoam block to swinging rope over a pool of water. Splash, a contest falls and Wang Qian’s focus jumps back to me. “What about hutongs?” I repeated my question of whether or not she liked living in a hutong. A familiar thoughtful look crosses her face. She tells me that it was where she had grown up and made her friends. She admits it’s not a fancy, new apartment, but it has what she needs, being most importantly wireless Internet and central heating. She adds that living in a hutong means you live in some of the best and most central locations in Beijing. Behai Park, Jingshan Park, Hou Hai, Wangfujin, and the Forbidden city are all at her fingertips, and if that means living in slightly cramped quarters rather than a modern apartment, she’d take it.
Living in a hutong means noise, interruptions, and sometimes not as much privacy as you would like. I’ve lost count of the times my little monster of a neighor has run into my hutong just to throw the sliding door open. I can’t remember how many times the dog that lives next door has followed me into my house just to beg for dinner scraps. And I certainly know that I have heard that same neighbor hack leughies every morning without fail, but I love it. Based on my scavenger hunt assignment to have conversations with hutong residents, I learned that many of them feel the same way I do about hutong life. Yes, sometimes we have to sacrifice a little bit of personal space and be patient with the peole we live in such close quarters with, but the reward is the incredible sense of community only a hutong can offer.