An Introduction to Beijing

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Beijing. Where to begin. We are a mere six hours from flying out, and still tongue tied and speechless as to how to convey the weight and significance of our experience here. What a beautiful city. It is so many things at once, complex strands of ancient culture, modernity, poverty and wealth, all woven together and fraying at the ends. Cheesy as it sounds, being in Beijing has felt like the coming of spring on account of the warmth of its community even in spite of the frigid air. On our second night here we wandered into a restaurant at the mouth of a hutong (see below) and met two guys that have deeply shaped our impression of this place- the Chinese call it yuanfen, we call it destiny. Kris and Zack, from Chicago and Colorado, joined us at our table, ordered their favorite things on the menu in perfect Mandarin, and showed their genuine delight at having met two travelers at the start of what can be a lonely winter in Beijing.

We learned on the walk home that they live in the same compound where we were staying, and so the following night they took us out for hot pot in the neighborhood with their landlord, girlfriends and friends. Dinner was a raucous affair. By the time the check arrived, the entire table was covered in sauce, food scraps, and an impressive collection of empty bottles. Man, the Chinese can drink. Luckily, their beers run a very sessionable 3% ABV.

This is Hot Pot. Built into the table is a one burner stovetop onto which a server places a giant pot, with a divider in the middle separating two distinct broths: one spicy and one mild. Then an endless parade of raw meats and vegetables is brought to the table and the diners cook the food themselves. Think the singing plate scene from Beauty and the Beast. Even with an entourage of guests coming and going throughout the meal several plates went unfinished.

After dinner we wandered the hutong, an endangered infrastructure of labyrinthine streets where people live with a true and honest understanding of hardship. These neighborhoods are gritty, loud and fast becoming extinct. There is a Chinese saying that a man will leave his shop, go for a walkabout, and upon turning toward home will get lost because the city has changed so quickly.

We awoke in the morning to a thin blanket of snow on the ground, a rarity for Beijing. It was Kris' birthday, and again, as yuanfen goes, he wanted to spend it hiking a remote and completely unrestored portion of the Great Wall on the same day that we had designated for our trip there. The catch is that were it not for meeting him two days before, we would have ended up at Badaling, a touristy section completely restored in the last 30 years. As it was, we were in Gubeikou, a ghostly beautiful expanse of snow covered hills and virgin hiking trails. We passed through a tiny village of people truly living off the land. Chickens, goats and huge stacks of firewood flanked the dirt road. Halfway up the trail, a frozen silence hovered around us, interrupted only by the occasional sound of a distant train whistle. From the top we had an unbelievable foreshortened view of three decrepit guard towers between large crumbling sections of the wall. It was stunning.

After a quiet drive back to the city, we went to a restaurant famed for its eggplant. Those of you who know Ken are aware that it's one of his least favorite foods, however, all were in agreement that it was the best dish on the table. After more food than we should have eaten including vinegar dressed greens and sheep tendon kebabs, it was time to bring to a close our happiest day in China thus far.