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| Beijing's traditional culture survives, despite change |
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Through the increasingly common haze that dims Beijing's blue skies, one can clearly see the mixture of modern and traditional, commercial and local, rich and poor. Story-high billboards advertising expensive suburban dreams and hi-tech products dwarf buildings and the people who stroll beneath them. The sidewalks are alive with people; some passing by, others idling, and the ever-present vendors waiting patiently to sell their wares.
I have always liked the fact that much of Chinese life plays out in public. Older people sit on benches and low-lying walls throughout the day to people-watch and socialize, men cluster in impromptu chess or card games, or take their birds to parks to enjoy nature from the protection of their bamboo cages. People congregate daily in open spaces to dance ballroom or to practice taiji and fan-dancing. These public activities are influenced by an alarmingly rapid rate of destruction and rebuilding and the relocation of residents from single-story communities to towering high-rises. As a result, there are fewer welcoming public spaces, and activities are forced closer to the street's edge. Areas that were just fields and dusty roads several years ago, now fall within the six ring roads that circle the city, and are packed with stores, apartment buildings and teem with heavy traffic. Fortunately, the ancient parks and monuments are well protected, and are sought out by Chinese andforeign tourists, and locals, alike. Beijing's frenetic pace of construction means that you cannot walk far without seeing soaring cranes punctuating the horizon, or passing groups of migrant construction workers. It is these workers who are rebuilding the city, with machines, shovels, pickaxes and prodigious physical effort. The sidewalk that skirts my building is being rebuilt for the second time in several months, by workers who carefully measure and then tap tiles and bricks into place atop a sandwich of concrete slabs and dirt. In preparation for the Olympics and in response to growing disposable income, infrastructure, luxury gated communities with grandiose anglicized names like "Dragon Villas" and malls quickly claim space in the urban sprawl. The landscape is dotted with skyscraper apartments, glittering commercial complexes, and the small stores and restaurants that are periodically razed to give way to new ones, or to mall-dreams. My street is near the busy third ring road, and hosts everything from small restaurants, hair salons, apartments, dry cleaners, vendors and bike repair stalls to a more questionable karaoke and sauna establishment. Moving further away from the main road, one can enter a maze of tiny lanes that mark the nearby migrant community. Wandering the concrete alleyways, one can peek into small courtyards that house several families, each living in one room. My home office is about the same size as the room of a migrant worker that I know, where she, her husband and child all live. She enjoys relative luxury compared to the story of an out-of-employment cook who recently told me that the housing included in his previous restaurant job meant that he had to sleep on the tables at night. Visible locally, as well as globally, the comforting cushion of wealth represented in well-cut suits, costly cars and haute-couture handbags, jars with the reality of much of the population who struggle to make a living, to feed and educate their families. However, there is no denying the cosmopolitan flavor and affluence that radiates from China's capital. Trends in housing style are changing so rapidly that if one wants a truly modern-looking apartment, one must buy a brand-new apartment rather than one built a few years ago. Although clean lines, wood floors and recessed lighting are now standard in many apartments, complexes maintain their own unmistakable Chinese flair. They often have their own small park where residents can do taiji or qi gong in the morning, walk their dogs, air out their quilts, and sit and chat with friends. Brightly colored metal exercise equipment is often used by residents who chat and swing back and forth on machines meant to imitate walking, or elderly people who demonstrate their flexibility by propping one leg up far above waist level. Although low-tech, the equipment is a clever way to encourage public exercise and interaction for people of all ages. Some popular park designs include small lights, that when seen from above at night, create a flashing multi-colored pattern. Gazing from my window after dusk, the blinking lights of the neighboring complex make me think of perpetual Christmas. Despite the changing physical environment of Beijing, the culture and ways of life remain strong. Every morning, despite the increasing chill in the air, the small parks outside my window come to life. Around 7 or 8 a.m., a group of mostly women gathers to the lilting sounds of a radio to exercise their bodies and spirits with dance and martial arts. Stout with a few layers of clothes, they slowly revolve and lift their hands, celebrating the new day together. Mei-Ling Ellerman was born and raised in Wellesley, and attended Wellesley College. After several years of work she received her master's degree in International Development with a focus on gender and rights. Mei-Ling is currently a Fulbright recipient and a David Boren Fellow in Beijing, China, carrying out a two-year research project on the workplace issues of Chinese migrant domestic workers. Her goals are to use the results of her research to raise awareness about the discrimination, violence and sexual harassment that domestic workers experience, to start trainings and activities at the community level to help protect their rights and to work with them to address these issues. Source: www2.townonline.com Nov 3, 05 |
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