May 29th, 2005 | The lowdown by Andrea Bryant

Hutongs in China: Doors to the Past

When I think of city life in China, a popular movie scene comes to mind. It is the scene in the famous Harry Potter films during which Harry and his friends board the train to Hogwarts by passing through the two numbered platform stations. To do this, they had to run and collide into the wall. Suddenly, they enter the world of magical happenings, one in which chocolate frogs can jump and trains can fly.

Whether you are in a large and well known metropolis city such as Beijing or in a smaller place rarely recognized outside the bounds of your province (such as Shijiazhuang), it is simple find such doors into a magically ancient history far away from the modern world. Finding these places is as easy as making a few turns off the main roads and entering into another world entirely free from the cosmopolitan hustle and bustle. These alleyways and life of the streets are not included on the map you may have bought at the train station upon your arrival. Welcome you to China, home of the wondrous world of the mysterious hutongs.

I noticed this ability to simply step into other worlds during a small trip downtown several months ago on my bicycle. Feeling a bit curious and adventurous, I veered slightly off the large street wide enough for all of Stalin and his army. I was happily surprised to find many smaller roads the size of one laned driveways back home. They were not paved and were not even. In the course of two seconds, my entire environment changed and it was as if I had found some hidden oasis of serenity amongst the overcrowded roads, honking of horns, and shouts of hellors that usually accompany pleas to spend your dwindling amounts of money. On these backroads, the sounds are neighborhood sounds such as the barking of dogs. I saw grandmothers sitting on small folding chairs placed directly in front of their homes and several small shopkeepers passing their time with a simple game of cards or Chinese Chess. Welcome Home.

Because most of the roads in China are fairly straight, pointing from North to South, and from East to West directly, it is nearly impossible to get lost if you have a general sense of where North is. Even the street signs in Beijing are marked with very clear directions as to which way is North or West. The signs and directions do get a bit mixed, however, once you enter into these hutong areas, for in these villages, the roads do not follow this pattern and are, more than likely, not mentioned on your map. My sense of feeling relieved at having found such a historical treasure was soon taken over by the realization that I was lost. Dead lost. Not knowing what to do, I hung around the alleys for a bit before making my way to the side of a small street, where I saw of all things a woman repairing shoes.

She was sitting on a small stool that she was sharing with her customer who had come to her with the task of making her high heeled shoes not as tall. The woman repairing the shoes was sawing (and I repeat, sawing with a handsaw) the heels down, centimeter by centimeter. Apparently she had already finished one shoe and was trying to make the second shoe even in length so her customer would not lose her balance. I bent down and asked for directions. The shoe repairer said she did not know the way. But the woman getting her shoes cut down did. She mentioned that if I could just bide my time a few more minutes, we would go together and she would show me where I needed to go. After several minutes of making the shoes even in height, and asking me questions as to my nationality, age, marital status, salary, and whether or not I like China, the shoe repairwoman began hammering the heels of each shoe down so the bottoms of each heel would not get stuck in the pavement. And after this task was complete, we were on our way.

The way back to the main road was a simple left turn, then right turn, the same way I had come. As the gracious lady pointed the way back onto the main street, I was once again transported into the world of bright lights and flashing actions, booming sound and discount prices. But now I know that to get into this other world, one in which the locals sit outside their doors at night and discuss their children’s health, is so simple to enter, I will return. Next time, however, before I run into the platform walls, I will be sure to take my compass with me.