Our arrival into Beijing began auspiciously enough. The flight from Hangzhou was uneventful, the capital welcomed us with marvelously-clear skies (belying its reputation for ceaseless smog) and we efficiently dispatched with an airport hustler trying to charge us six times the going-market-rate for a ride into town. At first blush, the city defied our expectation of a Chinese version of a dreary Soviet bloc enclave. Extensively wide and squat as compared to the awesome verticality of Hong Kong or Shanghai, Beijing had the feel of an American Sun Belt boomtown with a skyline of ubiquitous construction cranes and endless half-built commercial buildings.
Our arriving confidence and poise began to wane, however, when our cab driver's tentative and circuitous approach toward our boutique hotel finally deposited us in a small, cramped alley seemingly miles removed from any semblance of modernity. As we stared at the nondescript and claustrophobia-inducing gray walls penning us in on both sides, we began to reconsider our choice of accommodation. The hotel's aesthetics had looked sufficiently stylish during a cursory review of its website, but our current vantage point suggested liberal artistic license by a fast-and-loose-with-the-truth graphic designer. Our mounting apprehension checked briefly upon locating a preening fire red door flanked by two red and gold hanging Chinese lanterns. As the door opened, it became quite obvious that our fears were entirely unfounded. Crossing the threshold was for us akin to Alice's experience with the rabbit hole. In seconds, we found ourselves quite literally transported into a new world.
We discovered that our boutique hotel -- an oasis of traditional Chinese decor and exquisite western taste -- was fashioned out of a restored hutong, a historic Beijing neighborhood of stone-walled houses encircling an interior courtyard. And in a stark indictment of our real estate sense, we learned that we were very much in Beijing's high-rent district, with several posh hotels and shops within walking distance and the CEO of one of China's largest companies living down the street. The hotel was just beginning its soft launch, making the two of us the first couple to visit its confines. As we wandered around our new surroundings, we couldn't help but boast self-congratulatory grins over our find. Perhaps we were really hipsters after all. Minutes later, after we finished thoroughly patting ourselves on the back, we settled in to plan our time in Beijing.
The hotel's amazingly-helpful assistant manager Michael (who was at our beck and call for the duration of our stay) secured a prime Saturday night dinner reservation for us at the acclaimed Made In China restaurant at Beijing's swanky Grand Hyatt hotel. We would later come to find out that the owner of our hotel, an amazing woman named Shauna, had interceded on our behalf and used her personal connections to guarantee us a seating. Shauna had even gone so far as to pre-order Made In China's in-short-supply, house special Peking Duck for Kaberi.
Dinner easily lived up to its billing, and not just because of the delicious food. We enjoyed a vantage point strategically overlooking a glass-enclosed dumpling cooking station and found ourselves seated near two friendly American businessmen. Our animated conversation centered around world travel exploits and amusing stories from the road. We were intrigued to learn that American executives in certain key industries routinely had their hotel rooms in China bugged and that Tiananmen Square was often crawling with undercover policemen. The evening passed quickly and enjoyably, especially as we caught up on news from back home. Before we realized it, it was 11 p.m. and time to exchange handshakes and good wishes.
The next afternoon, we met up with Shauna and a fellow hotel guest to explore Beijing's up-and-coming 798 Dashanzi Arts District, the third largest area of its kind in the world, after Berlin and Manhattan's SoHo. Unbenownst to us when we accepted her invitation to join her, Shauna is a mover-and-shaker in Beijing's artist community. Attending several gallery showings as Shauna's guests allowed us to enjoy a unique glimpse into the contemporay Chinese art scene. And with the galleries gearing up for the International Arts Exhibition starting the following week, we had a chance to see several avant-garde works in unique settings, including a converted state-run beer factory (still brandishing a 'Long Live Chairman Mao' tribute on its walls). We were both quite surprised by the relative degree of artistic freedom throughout the complex as evidenced by liberal depictions of full-frontal nudity. Shauna did concede, however, that the artists' political messages had to more subtlely portrayed here than in the West.
That evening, we were invited to join Shauna and her friends at a dinner to congratulate one of the featured artists, a talented photographer who cleverly incorporated real-life incarnations of a famous Chinese animated character into various modern, urban settings. Over a traditional Chinese banquent-style meal (complete with a 10-person lazy Susan), we basked in the charming company of Shauna and her friend PaungPaung (literally translated as "fatty-fatty"), a slim, elegantly-dressed 60-year-old expectant grandmother who looked to be no more than 40. Afterward, the five of us went back to Shauna's spectacularly-sprawling penthouse apartment, allowing us a peek into high-society Beijing life. Over the course of the evening in Shauna's exquisitely self-designed digs, we came to learn about her former lives as an Elle model and as a high-powered San Francisco investment banker.
The next morning, Vik enjoyed some much-needed R&R while Shanua took Kaberi to some of her favorite shops in Beijing's Ritan Park neighborhood. With the benefit of Shauna's local negotiating skills, Kaberi returned beaming with a considerably-discounted cordoury jacket and Shanghai Tang sweater. That afternoon, we made our way to the extensive, walled Forgotten City, which proved to be a disappointment with a majority of the complex under renovation. After investing 50 yuan, Vik was especially dismayed to learn that Roger Moore had been replaced as narrator of the self-guided audio tour.
After leaving the Forbidden City, we walked south to Beijing's imposing Tienanmen Square where we self-consciously walked in close proximity to one uniformed policeman after another. Standing out among the grim, almost-Soviet architecture was a prominent digital clock counting down to the 2008 Olympic opening ceremonies. Beijing seems well prepared to play host, with pollution and traffic controls in place and construction underway on an impressive bird's nest-latticed national stadium. City authorities have also started making locals sign pledges to dispense with the dual national pastimes of spitting in public and cutting in line. From Tienanmen Square, we walked further southwest to Liu Lichang, a street of restored houses featuring sundry stationery stores.
On our last evening in Beijing, Shauna encouraged us to have dinner at one of her favorite spots, People 8. Shauna's guidance was once again impeccable. People 8 was easily the hippest restaurant we've ever patronized, as it featured a hidden door between a grove of bamboo trees that only opens with a step on a pressure-sensitive stone at the end of an inconspicuous walkway. Once inside, the modern decor is enveloped in pitch black darkness with intermittent spotlights positioned in such a way to highlight only the the table surfaces. The restaurant affords diners both a sense of privacy and intrigue as patrons at the surrounding tables are not easily discernible. Suffice it to say that the Japanese-inspired cuisine -- which included miso cod and spicy togarishi chicken -- was first-class.
After dinner, we walked to the nearby Lan Club in Beijing's Twin Tower office building. The club was a gaudy, smoke-filled, over-the-top $30 million nightspot that cemented in our minds Philippe Starck's reputation as an unprincipled commercial sellout. We had trouble reconciling the club's "see-and-be-seen" reputation with its choice of decor and musical talent. Ten minutes into our visit, we were tormented by the screechy babbling of what could have been the world's worst lounge singer (think 2 parts Eartha Kitt and 3 parts Jackie Chan). While a hasty exit was unavoidable, we had to admit that, even when Beijing was bad, it was marvelously bad.
As we drove to the airport the next morning, we were sad to leave. We regretted not having more time to spend in this fascinating city. Beijing had completely charmed us during our brief stay. It definitely deserved much more than just three days.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Mainland Metropolitan
Our arrival into Beijing began auspiciously enough. The flight from Hangzhou was uneventful, the capital welcomed us with marvelously-clear skies (belying its reputation for ceaseless smog) and we efficiently dispatched with an airport hustler trying to charge us six times the going-market-rate for a ride into town. At first blush, the city defied our expectation of a Chinese version of a dreary Soviet bloc enclave. Extensively wide and squat as compared to the awesome verticality of Hong Kong or Shanghai, Beijing had the feel of an American Sun Belt boomtown with a skyline of ubiquitous construction cranes and endless half-built commercial buildings.
Our arriving confidence and poise began to wane, however, when our cab driver's tentative and circuitous approach toward our boutique hotel finally deposited us in a small, cramped alley seemingly miles removed from any semblance of modernity. As we stared at the nondescript and claustrophobia-inducing gray walls penning us in on both sides, we began to reconsider our choice of accommodation. The hotel's aesthetics had looked sufficiently stylish during a cursory review of its website, but our current vantage point suggested liberal artistic license by a fast-and-loose-with-the-truth graphic designer. Our mounting apprehension checked briefly upon locating a preening fire red door flanked by two red and gold hanging Chinese lanterns. As the door opened, it became quite obvious that our fears were entirely unfounded. Crossing the threshold was for us akin to Alice's experience with the rabbit hole. In seconds, we found ourselves quite literally transported into a new world.
We discovered that our boutique hotel -- an oasis of traditional Chinese decor and exquisite western taste -- was fashioned out of a restored hutong, a historic Beijing neighborhood of stone-walled houses encircling an interior courtyard. And in a stark indictment of our real estate sense, we learned that we were very much in Beijing's high-rent district, with several posh hotels and shops within walking distance and the CEO of one of China's largest companies living down the street. The hotel was just beginning its soft launch, making the two of us the first couple to visit its confines. As we wandered around our new surroundings, we couldn't help but boast self-congratulatory grins over our find. Perhaps we were really hipsters after all. Minutes later, after we finished thoroughly patting ourselves on the back, we settled in to plan our time in Beijing.
The hotel's amazingly-helpful assistant manager Michael (who was at our beck and call for the duration of our stay) secured a prime Saturday night dinner reservation for us at the acclaimed Made In China restaurant at Beijing's swanky Grand Hyatt hotel. We would later come to find out that the owner of our hotel, an amazing woman named Shauna, had interceded on our behalf and used her personal connections to guarantee us a seating. Shauna had even gone so far as to pre-order Made In China's in-short-supply, house special Peking Duck for Kaberi.
Dinner easily lived up to its billing, and not just because of the delicious food. We enjoyed a vantage point strategically overlooking a glass-enclosed dumpling cooking station and found ourselves seated near two friendly American businessmen. Our animated conversation centered around world travel exploits and amusing stories from the road. We were intrigued to learn that American executives in certain key industries routinely had their hotel rooms in China bugged and that Tiananmen Square was often crawling with undercover policemen. The evening passed quickly and enjoyably, especially as we caught up on news from back home. Before we realized it, it was 11 p.m. and time to exchange handshakes and good wishes.
The next afternoon, we met up with Shauna and a fellow hotel guest to explore Beijing's up-and-coming 798 Dashanzi Arts District, the third largest area of its kind in the world, after Berlin and Manhattan's SoHo. Unbenownst to us when we accepted her invitation to join her, Shauna is a mover-and-shaker in Beijing's artist community. Attending several gallery showings as Shauna's guests allowed us to enjoy a unique glimpse into the contemporay Chinese art scene. And with the galleries gearing up for the International Arts Exhibition starting the following week, we had a chance to see several avant-garde works in unique settings, including a converted state-run beer factory (still brandishing a 'Long Live Chairman Mao' tribute on its walls). We were both quite surprised by the relative degree of artistic freedom throughout the complex as evidenced by liberal depictions of full-frontal nudity. Shauna did concede, however, that the artists' political messages had to more subtlely portrayed here than in the West.
That evening, we were invited to join Shauna and her friends at a dinner to congratulate one of the featured artists, a talented photographer who cleverly incorporated real-life incarnations of a famous Chinese animated character into various modern, urban settings. Over a traditional Chinese banquent-style meal (complete with a 10-person lazy Susan), we basked in the charming company of Shauna and her friend PaungPaung (literally translated as "fatty-fatty"), a slim, elegantly-dressed 60-year-old expectant grandmother who looked to be no more than 40. Afterward, the five of us went back to Shauna's spectacularly-sprawling penthouse apartment, allowing us a peek into high-society Beijing life. Over the course of the evening in Shauna's exquisitely self-designed digs, we came to learn about her former lives as an Elle model and as a high-powered San Francisco investment banker.
The next morning, Vik enjoyed some much-needed R&R while Shanua took Kaberi to some of her favorite shops in Beijing's Ritan Park neighborhood. With the benefit of Shauna's local negotiating skills, Kaberi returned beaming with a considerably-discounted cordoury jacket and Shanghai Tang sweater. That afternoon, we made our way to the extensive, walled Forgotten City, which proved to be a disappointment with a majority of the complex under renovation. After investing 50 yuan, Vik was especially dismayed to learn that Roger Moore had been replaced as narrator of the self-guided audio tour.
After leaving the Forbidden City, we walked south to Beijing's imposing Tienanmen Square where we self-consciously walked in close proximity to one uniformed policeman after another. Standing out among the grim, almost-Soviet architecture was a prominent digital clock counting down to the 2008 Olympic opening ceremonies. Beijing seems well prepared to play host, with pollution and traffic controls in place and construction underway on an impressive bird's nest-latticed national stadium. City authorities have also started making locals sign pledges to dispense with the dual national pastimes of spitting in public and cutting in line. From Tienanmen Square, we walked further southwest to Liu Lichang, a street of restored houses featuring sundry stationery stores.
On our last evening in Beijing, Shauna encouraged us to have dinner at one of her favorite spots, People 8. Shauna's guidance was once again impeccable. People 8 was easily the hippest restaurant we've ever patronized, as it featured a hidden door between a grove of bamboo trees that only opens with a step on a pressure-sensitive stone at the end of an inconspicuous walkway. Once inside, the modern decor is enveloped in pitch black darkness with intermittent spotlights positioned in such a way to highlight only the the table surfaces. The restaurant affords diners both a sense of privacy and intrigue as patrons at the surrounding tables are not easily discernible. Suffice it to say that the Japanese-inspired cuisine -- which included miso cod and spicy togarishi chicken -- was first-class.
After dinner, we walked to the nearby Lan Club in Beijing's Twin Tower office building. The club was a gaudy, smoke-filled, over-the-top $30 million nightspot that cemented in our minds Philippe Starck's reputation as an unprincipled commercial sellout. We had trouble reconciling the club's "see-and-be-seen" reputation with its choice of decor and musical talent. Ten minutes into our visit, we were tormented by the screechy babbling of what could have been the world's worst lounge singer (think 2 parts Eartha Kitt and 3 parts Jackie Chan). While a hasty exit was unavoidable, we had to admit that, even when Beijing was bad, it was marvelously bad.
As we drove to the airport the next morning, we were sad to leave. We regretted not having more time to spend in this fascinating city. Beijing had completely charmed us during our brief stay. It definitely deserved much more than just three days.
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