Snapshot Beijing
Oct 3rd, 2006 by Michael Max
The bird market, with it’s alleyways full of song birds and bamboo whisper cages is gone. And with it the cricket and kite markets. Even the potholed dirt road that ran it’s northern boundary has changed and become a 4 lane divided highway.
秀水街, The Silk Market, has been moved out of it’s riotous clothing and scarf upholstered alleyway and into a a nondescript 4 story building. It’s like compartmentalizing a waterfall.
Everywhere Beijing is recreating itself faster than you can say “American Dream”. It’s as if Beijing is constantly shedding a skin, as it races to make itself in the New New China for that date with the world at the 2008 Olympics.
Imperial capital for over 600 years, the center of Chinese history say some. But, any relic of an older time is already a fossilized shell. Visit a temple here, and you will find plaques full of lofty words outside, dust and peeled paint on the inside. Beijing sprawls it’s new multi-block buildings. They speak gravity and resolve. The modern dynasty built on the dust, rubble and stories of the past.
Cars, cars, cars. Everywhere you see the big sticker on the back of automobiles 实习. It translates as “new driver, watch out I’ve got a white knuckled, George Bush deer in the headlight I hope I’m doing this right foreign policy bravo”
There are the things too that don’t change. The bicycle repair guys on most every corner. Bicycles here are in a constant state of disintegration.
Old men gather on corners and under trees, hang their bamboo cages of feathered jewels and while away the afternoon playing Chinese chess, with smoke and gossip.
Any direction in a bicycle lane is fine. Traffic lights are best taken as a suggestion, follow the current, flow with the exhale of traffic, there is safety along with the rest of the squeaking wheels, especially when you keep a wingman between yourself and the endless stream of right turning cars.
Morning in the parks are a collage of activity and sound. Troops of middle aged women dance with rattles and fans to the tin sound of mandopop meets kungfu movie soundtrack music. Small groups breath Taichi and dance with swords. And then there are men who give sight to how you extend your qi, as they balance a whistling top on long sticks and string.
The xiaojie’s at the restaurant doors dress in high collared Qing style silk qipao to celebrate the national holiday. They look like a cross between Susie Wong and Count Dracula.
Little wonder that those intricate puzzle boxes, of interlocking secrets and drawers originated here.