Beijing: Hutong and Toilets — scribbler at large

Hello! I did not forget about this blog, I just got sidetracked by a trip to the U.S., followed by job interviews, followed by a two week visit from my 父母 (parents). I’ll have more to say about the traveling we did with my parents soon. But for now, other stuff!

I’ve been posting less frequently in part because I feel like there’s nothing left to blog about. But what really happened is that I lost perspective and overlooked a bunch of headline-level topics. First and foremost, the hutong. Second and secondmost, and at long last, the toilet situation here.

Hutong (hoo-tong) means “alley," and refers to the old-school streets that make up the Beijing of yore. Some of them are as old as 800 years, but they’re dwindling, making way for newer buildings/more "aesthetically pleasing" neighborhoods. Even in the time I’ve been here I’ve seen familiar hutong change drastically—stores shuttered, structures renovated, blocks of buildings torn down, etc. The rate of change makes me feel for guidebook publishers like Lonely Planet, whose Beijing 2015 edition is already full of extinct restaurants—whoops. But the hutong can still be found in pockets all around the city.

I’ve stumbled onto them by accident before—a left turn off a four-lane road lands me on a hutong where old folks are out walking their dogs, hanging up laundry, or chatting with the the neighbors. The vibe is intimate, mostly due to proximity, so it’s easy to feel like a voyeur. I have to fight the urge to take artsy photos of the locals. This is their ‘hood, after all, not my personal issue of National Geographic (eyeroll at myself). While walking around the hutong I can usually see big modern buildings on the skyline, and the juxtaposition is dramatic. (If you’re sick of reading about juxtaposition on this blog, I don’t blame you, but that’s what this place is all about.)

Most of us outsiders think the word “hutong” refers to the buildings that line these old school alleyways, which are single-story homes laid out in rectangular patterns; four buildings centered around a courtyard. But the old walled courtyard homes are actually called siheyuan, (suh-heh-yoo-an…sort of). They have tiled roofs and are so closely mashed together that you basically look into peoples’ living rooms as you walk by. In fairness, the buildings and alleyways are a package deal, so it’s easy to get confused about the real meaning of “hutong.”

Hutong doggie (his second appearance on this blog).

The most touristy hutong are lined with tchotchke shops, specialty beverage bars (bubble tea!), and snack shops (churros are popular here, which is weird). In the hutong around Beijing’s lakes there are always street food vendors, which is obviously my favorite thing—haw berries coated in caramelized sugar on a stick, roasted sweet potatoes, weird rice and fruit treats, and more. YOM. To me, these areas are more fun to visit than the big ticket stuff like the Forbidden City (awesome, but excuse me while I sit down because I've walked 3 miles and am still stuck at the entrance).

Selling fun light-garlands in the hutong.

Some of the hutong neighborhoods have been somewhat hipsterized, lined with with cute restaurants and bars that melt the hearts of foreigners city-wide. The secret is out that westerners will pay through the nose for an adorable experience, and I once paid $21 for a cocktail at one of these cute hutong bars. The popular aesthetic here is more about NEW FLASHY GLEAMING than dive bar hidden gem, so I get the feeling that locals think we're insane for liking these "shabby" neighborhoods so much. My Chinese teacher pointed out to my class that when we say we love the hutong neighborhoods, we’re not really imagining what it’s like to live there, which might be a fair point. A boat load of siheyuan have been modernized with bathrooms and air conditioning, but the traditional set-up involved communal bathrooms on the street, and maybe even dirt floors.

Looking down on a hutong neighborhood (the buildings in bottom front with tiled roofs).

Nighttime in the hutong. That black smudge in the middle is a biker on a low shutter speed.

Speaking of bathrooms, let’s shift subjects to TOILETS. Bathrooms in the hutong areas are always easy to find due to the aforementioned shared bathroom set up—in fact, public bathrooms are everywhere in Beijing. You’ve probably heard tell of the squatty potty, which is what it sounds like: a metal/porecelain rimmed hole that you squat over (no matter who you are).

When I say squat, I mean a real squat, with both feet flat on the floor—not a tiptoe squat, or a butt-three-feet-off-the-floor squat. Evidence of those who can’t pull off the full squat can usually be seen spattered on toilet's edge. Frown. Most toilets in Beijing are squatties, so it’s important to adjust quickly, although this isn’t easy for everyone. It’s especially hard if you’re carrying things (where do you put them?) and if you’re not limber.

The hutong bathrooms are usually the toughest on western sensibilities, since some don’t have stalls and users are therefore subject to graphic anatomical displays and awkward staring—HI THIS IS ME WITHOUT PANTS ON. Because of this, wardrobe choices are crucial when planning to spend a day in the hutong—definitely not a good place to deal with a romper or even tights. All of this is made less comfortable by the fact that many bathrooms don’t have toilet paper, and those that do place the toilet paper dispensers by the sink, rather than next to toilet itself. Sooooo if you forget to gather your paper before squatting…things aren’t going well for you. Some of you have read about the TP theft that goes on at public parks around Beijing, and know that even when toilet paper is provided it goes fast. I still forget to grab the toilet paper near the door, so I carry some around with me (a good idea anyway). Most bathroom sinks don’t come with soap, either, so hand sanitizer is uhhh…handy.

Another important thing to remember is that flushing toilet paper is not done here (the plumbing can’t take it) so you place your used TP in a trashcan by the toilet. As you can imagine, these trashcans can get nightmarish (you're welcome for not sharing a photo even though I have many). Muscle memory still gets the best of me sometimes and I've flushed way to much toilet paper at establishments around the city—for that I deeply apologize .

After living in Beijing for a while, the discomfort of using a squat toilet (in front of other people) wears off...or at least becomes less acute—I can even pull it off with a couple of beers in me. I’ve stopped noticing them as weird, since they're ubiquitous, and I just have the same distaste for them that I have for public toilets the world over. Like in the U.S., some bathrooms here are too horror movie for me, but there’s usually another option down the street.

Possibly the scariest bathroom I've been in.

It's said that the squatting position is good for the colon, and it’s inarguably great that no part of your body is required to touch a public squatty toilet—the flush button is usually operated by foot.

That’s it for the hutong and toilets, but hopefully I’ll have more to say soon. Thanks for reading, and remember: