Out with the Old

The alleyway, or hutong alongside my house is being redone. I think it must be part of Beijing's "make the old look better" campaign. Though it was a perfectly fine road, they decided to tear it up and put a small brick sidewalk on either side and then relay the road down the middle. Of course, the hutong is the widest where I live, near the road and that's not even fifteen feet wide. That means that the brick sidewalk in most places ends up being nil to one brick deep, not exactly suitable for walking.

The crew has had to do a lot of work. When I left for Sichuan two weeks ago it had just been torn up, now it's still a gravel road way. They had to lay the "sidewalks" and relevel all of the manhole covers to be level with the side paths as well as the soon to be layed road. 

The replacing of a perfectly good road isn't the only strange thing, there's also the hours the workers work. Generally they have begun work around six in the morning and worked until a break from nine to eleven, then lunch at about one, followed by work until around four. Then they'd finish. Sometimes they'd do some more work in the middle of the night around two to three in the morning. Originally they were driving their tractor up and down the hutong. This is arguably not the best choice for these small spaces as it took up the whole width of the hutong. In most places there was no way to get through, and if you were on the road and it was coming through you would have to tuck into another courtyard's doorway to get out of the way. Just hope you didn't have a bike with you. The worst was when they came through with the steamroller to flatten the gravel. My whole house, glass windows, and my bed were shaking as if there was an earthquake. I woke up to quite a shock at about six in the morning.

Fortunately they're getting close to finishing. I do have to say it does look better. But why the extra work? I think it has to do with the "old is bad" opinion that is prevalent in Beijing. Though I live in a culturally protected area (that means that it cannot be torn down) everyone is obsessed with fixing up their houses and replacing the "old city bricks and building materials" with new ones. Lately along East Drumtower Street there have been piles of "old" bricks, roof tiles, and two by fours with nails sticking out in all directions waiting to be picked up by large trucks that night. On top of these piles signs read "replacing old city building materials" followed by a phone number to call.

The other day I was talking to a man who is currently fixing up his place. Workers were carrying two by fours out of his courtyard and setting them in a pile on the sidewalk along East Drumtower. He remarked, "This wood is still pretty good, it's sixty years old." It seemed redundant to ask him why he's getting rid of the wood if it's still pretty good--it is sixty years old, after all.

Though the area is culturally protected and cannot be demolished for high-rises, but what is culturally protected if the opinion is "out with the old." The real question is, how far does "culturally protected" really protect if everyone does want to get rid of the old streets and old materials...

Mail Call

When I was in Sichuan last week I mailed myself a postcard. While, yes, this may be something that a crazy person or someone who is starved for attention would do, I had my reasons. I wanted to see what getting mail in my hutong apartment was like.

Usually, the letters I have seen sit in a little cubby hole in the wall just inside the main door. That's where I thought my mail would end up, too. But there's never that much mail there... and in fact I have never seen mail get delivered.

Well, this morning at about 8:30 I hear my name "Mu KaiLe!" shouted out on the hutong outside my house. "Is there a Mu KaiLe that lives here?" And I go down my ladder shouting "I'm Kaile! I'm Mu Kaile!!"

I open my door to find everyone, the mailman, children, the other families, all standing around inspecting the post card; all five households had come out to inspect this little letter, that I had sent myself. 

My neighbors know my name. I'm not sure why they all had to come out and inspect it, they could have slid it into the cubby. Can this scenario be attributed to the "mixed courtyard house" style of living?

At one time, several generations of the same family would have occupied the courtyard style house I live in currently, granted this would have been well over forty years ago, before the Cultural Revolution and probably even more prevalent pre-1949 China. At that time, everyone would have been responsible for the other family members in the house. Now, these houses have become home to three, four, and in my house five different families, all living around one courtyard. In Beijing they are called "big mixed coutyards" (大杂院 dazayuan).

It was interesting to have my name shouted, and it's interesting that everyone came out to inspect this letter, even though my neighbors know my name and where I live. The house that I live in doesn't have an actual mail box, like I said, there is only a cubby where mail is usually left, the mailman might not know about the cubby, so it might be a necessity for the mailman to shout for mail call. It's hard to say whether it is the protective nature of the courtyard house or simply "that laowai is getting mail?" that brought everyone out for mail call. But a good part of me is leaning towards the latter.