Crying in Beijing

Beijing is the New York of the east - forget Tokyo and Seoul. New buildings are going up everywhere here, and the old ones are being knocked down one day, forgotten the next. Neighborhoods are gentrified; squatters hang on ’til the last minute in houses surrounded by abandoned buildings and rubble. The old and the new are clashing every day, all over the city. Ancient hutongs where no one has plumbing next to giant luxury apartment buildings. Rich and poor, old and new, Han Chinese and the minority groups and peasants, the native Beijingers and the people from outside - all of the clashes New York has.

December is here and it’s getting cold, even for a New Yorker like me. Tensions mount when it gets cold - frustrations come to the surface. People stay home more at night and have to deal with their families, and during the day, the subway can be almost impossible to deal with, and, to combat the cold, there’s more drinking. I’m happy in the cold, but I don’t have a family to go home to. Yesterday I saw two women who couldn’t take the pressure anymore and lost control.

The first was in the subway, and the second was out on the street when I was eating shish kebobs and drinking baijiu with the local restaurant owner and shish kebob stand owner (they are insane, by the way - the owner of the restaurant drinks a bottle of 46% alcohol every night, and usually one bottle isn’t enough. He eats peanuts with it, telling me that Chinese people are poor, and peanuts and a 50 cent bottle of 46% alcohol are nice and cheap. I suspect he eats the peanuts to avoid eating any substantial food and ruining his drunk, but I can’t understand how he functions and runs a restaurant while drinking so much. Actually, he just sits at a table and watches TV most of the night.)

In the subway I saw a woman freak out and grab a man by the arm and refuse to let go. She was crying, screaming, and panicking. The man was totally innocent, but she accused him of pushing her, stealing something, I’m not sure what. Cops came and told everyone not to look, nothing going on here, go about your business (just like in New York.) The woman wouldn’t let go; she was holding on to his arm so tightly her hands were white, and she was a tough, strong woman. The man promised her he wouldn’t run away, but she wouldn’t let go. The cops begged her to let go and apologized to the man and thanked him for not getting angry … he said, don’t worry, it’s OK. The woman, still clutching his arm, got down on her knees and cried; her tears were falling on the subway platform floor. The cops led the two (still attached) up the stairs to somewhere private, I assume, to deal with things. The woman was obviously disturbed, or crazy, or who knows what. But the whole thing was handled very compassionately. I wondered how it would’ve gone down in America. At some point, I think the cops would’ve gotten violent and forcibly removed the woman from the man, the man would’ve gotten really pissed - it would’ve been a different scene.

Story two took place outside at the shish kebob stand. Next door is a mahjong parlor and the waitress was playing, and maybe someone cheated (although probably not.) The waitress was outside screaming and crying, her face red and covered with tears. The owner of the restaurant and the shish kebob guy told her not to cry, don’t worry, relax, stop crying, go back inside and play. It was like they were talking to a child, and people couldn’t help smile and laugh a little, because it was weird. This waitress is a little strange, maybe a little dim (I don’t know how else to describe her), but they were treating her very compassionately, as if she was a small kid.

I live in one of the old houses in an ancient hutong. My street has so far been spared, although some hutongs close by haven’t been so lucky. I’ve even seen a few standoffs between residents, cops, and demolition crews, but those things are usually handled swiftly in China. My house is in an important courtyard which has been landmarked, so I think we’re safe from the wrecking ball (although I’ve heard rumors that they might turn it into a museum for the Olympic crowd). I grew up on Avenue C and 10th Street, an area that’s been gentrified and renovated to the point where French restaurants occupy the former shooting galleries and bodegas that sold dubious products. Will the same thing happen in my cute neighborhood here in Beijing? If so, what’s going to replace the shish kebob stand, mahjongg parlor, and all of the hair salons that sell dubious services here? A French restaurant? I don’t think so – I’ll be out on the front lines protesting when the wrecking crew comes.