Beijing pulses under a layer of smog. Fresh air seems to be in short supply in these crammed quarters. Tall, modern structures dwarf those that have stood here for thousands of years. Buildings are high, but not wide, to house the overcrowded jungle of a city. The backgrounds of my pictures of beautiful temples are ruined cranes towering behind them. Beijing is a city under construction. The apartment buildings on the way from the Beijing airport are more reminiscent of Ft. Lauderdale than an Asian country. There are bright coral colored towers that look like my grandmother would live there. A friend described it as looking “like a place on the West Coast that I haven’t visited yet”. I question the rhyme and reason for these architectural decisions. Is this a beautiful city? I still struggle with this question two years after visiting. Culturally and gastronomically and historically beautiful? Yes. Aesthetically beautiful? I am still undecided. For every beautiful spot-the Forbidden City, the Olympic Park, there are also places where function positively dominates over style.
At street level, Beijing echoes with the sounds of food hawkers and street vendors offering counterfeit designer handbags, spicy skewers of meat and leftover memorabilia from the 2008 Olympics. The city is full and in some places, I have to stick my elbows out to pass through a crowded street.
A far cry from tourist attractions are the Hutongs, residential neighborhoods filled with locals. In place of “I Love BJ” shirts and ashtrays shaped like The Bird’s Nest, those who call Beijing their home shop for daily necessities at an outdoor market. Globalization has ruined the exoticness of China for me-a place I hoped I could escape McDonald’s and Starbucks. The Hutongs, where bicycles dominate over cars, remind me of a China that intrigued me during a third grade educational video. Tucked away here, I could pretend I was really “away from it all” and enter a place where The Golden Arches haven’t invaded yet.
.
0 comments:
Post a Comment