My Chinese-speaking friend wrote down "The Hutong Tour" on her list of suggested places to see and do in Beijing. I asked the concierge what the Hutong tour included and he said, in a thick Chinese accent, "rickshaw ride to farmland homes". Wow, that sounds really cool, I thought, envisioning myself riding a rickshaw through picturesque fields of rice. (A rickshaw is a buggy pulled by a bicycle instead of a horse.)I've been wanting to ride in a rickshaw and it turned out to be a simply delightful experience, especially when my partner, Anna turned to me and said, "I love you, Mom".
We took a tour down to the center of Beijing, into the heart of one of the oldest parts of the city called the Hutong (narrow streets). We had a tour guide that gave us valuable insight and understanding about how the city changed under the rule of Mao. The tour was going along nicely, until she said, "We will now leave the rickshaws here and visit a family home." My emotion quickly changed from "simply delighted" to "awkwardly apprehensive". The thoughts of going into the home of a perfect stranger in the "slums" of inner city Beijing made me nervous. I also felt confused. I almost blurted out, "What about the rice paddies?". Straining to compose myself, I wandered obediently around a back corridor and into someone's small ramshackle home. I felt just like a missionary. I looked at my parents and my girls and said, "Well, now we know what it would be like to serve a mission together". In this man's home he talked to us about daily life in China and what it is like to be Chinese (with the help of our tour guide interpreter). It was very interesting and a bit surreal sitting there chatting with this man while we munched on sunflower seeds and peanuts and feebly sipped the Coke-a-cola (a drink that was given to us as a desperate alternative to our polite yet emphatic refusal to drink the tea that they offered beforehand). Our visit with this young man in his home was a very unique experience and in the end enjoyable but I still couldn't figure out what had happened to the farmland part of the tour. Then it dawned on me that it was the Chinese accent, "farmland" was "family".
The tour ended with a loud and impressive drum ceremony at the top of a 69 stair climb up the "stairs of longevity" in the Drum Tower of Beijing.
After the tour we were hungry, hungry enough to bicker about where to eat. True to our
American roots, we ended up in McDonalds. I can't believe I ate at McDonalds in China. 
4 comments:
I loved the Hutong tour as well. A little embarrassing when they told me and dad to get in separate buggies. "Too old and too fat" was beginning to sink in. I was grateful for my missionary daughter who was experienced enough to ask for cola instead of water or tea. My poor little granddaughters were about to cry with bewilderment. The "stairs of longevity" were a test of determination and strenght for me. I wondered why they made the stairs so steep and high when most Chinese people are of small stature. All in all it was an interesting, informative and fun tour--even McDonald's! I wore my black pearl necklace today. I love it.
That sounds like such a neat experience. Makes you grateful for what you have. So, is the McDonalds in China like McDonalds here? McBlah!? Well, except for the fries. :)
I am green with envy
That was so much fun. Thanks Mom. I learned more there then probably any other place in China, especially about Chinese culture.
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