My Hutong Home

By Amelia Hapsari

When I tell people that I live in a hutong in Beijing, I get two different responses. The first response is, “That’s absolutely COOL!” The second response is, “Why do you want to live in such a place?”

Street market in a hutong in Beijing

The first batch of people who think homes in hutong are absolutely cool often imagine imperial houses where you have a garden in the center of the house; a typical siheyuan or Chinese courtyard home. They may have seen them in movies, paintings, or other depictions of China’s ancient life. Now some wealthy families have bought properties in downtown Beijing, around the Forbidden City area, where royal families and ministers used to live. They have renovated or rebuilt a home with Chinese architectural grandeur that will surely wow any guests, especially after the urban development of Beijing left very little space for non-high-rise buildings.

The second batch of people who don’t aspire to live in a hutong see the place as a city slum, where not many homes have a private toilet and bathroom, and where a heating system is not in place. People live in tiny spaces with thin walls, ensuring the neighbors to hear your bedroom fights or your taste of music.

A quiet hutong alley near Qianmen, Beijing

How come there’s a huge gap of perspective here? Well, Beijing is full of contrasts and contradictions. But not only that. Hutong is the witness of various dramatic changes in Beijing.

During feudalist China, before the nationalists took over power and established The Republic of China in 1911, hutong is the only type of neighborhood in Beijing. It was a residential area of alleyways with traditional courtyard homes. It encircled the Forbidden City, a name foreigners gave to the home of the Chinese Emperor because nobody could enter the heavily guarded and gated palace without the approval of the Emperor. The Beijingers themselves call it “Gu Gong” or the “Ancient Palace”.

Not all residents in hutong are poor. Some of the courtyard homes have been renovated like the ancient imperial dwellings.

For centuries, hutong was home for royal families, higher ranked officials, and those who serve the emperor. Hutong for ordinary people and merchants was located further away in the north and south axis of the Forbidden City.

When The Republic of China was founded by the Kuomintang, many royal families and higher ranked officials were forced to leave Beijing. The new nationalist government took over their grand houses and handed them to the newly elected ministers and generals. But not long after that, in 1949, another revolution swiped China with the new winner being Chairman Mao and his communist party. Hutong homes were once more confiscated by the incumbent government from their previous owners as Kuomintang officials fled China to the island of Taiwan.

A public toilet in the hutong has been newly renovated. Many of them have undergone a facelift before the 2008 Olympics.

At the hands of the communist leadership, hutong homes had to be turned into a housing facility that belongs to the masses. The government invited peasants and workers who were crucial for the building of a communist nation to come to Beijing, to live in the property that used to be owned by feudalists and landlords. The extravagant houses that once hosted just a single rich family were then converted into homes for many families. Huge bedrooms had to be divided for several families. And because the country has been in subsequent civil wars and revolution since the birth of the 20th century, the condition of these homes was no longer imperial-like, especially not the toilet. Very soon they were decayed and embedded with sanitary problems.

Bicycle and foot will get you anywhere in hutong.

Northern China is arid and far from the source of water. The water for the Emperor in the Forbidden City had to be collected from outside. When the People’s Republic of China was founded, this problem was not effectively addressed. The government had to build public toilets without running water and public bathing houses, so people could take turns bathing. Each person has one bucket of water everyday for daily washing (which is not a shower), and a coupon for taking a shower in the public bathing house once a week.

The rooms inside this alley belong to different family.

30 years after the founding of People’s Republic of China, Deng Xiaoping decided to open China to the global market and development. China was determined to wash its dark gray color with a refreshing dash of modern development. In the meantime, half of the hutong disappeared. Because these old residential areas were right in the heart of Beijing, property money was spicy hot. And in the beginning of the reform in China, only the state owned the land. Most of hutong residents could not hold on to their tiny piece of a home in the hutong if the government made a business deal with a developer.

This year is the 60th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Thanks to China’s accumulation of wealth and her willingness to review the charm of its ancient treasures, some clusters of hutong are now renovated. Some have become a slick shopping and café district. Some have become luxurious residents for the haves. Some still stand almost the way they were these 60 years. That’s where I live.

Demolition of hutongs are prominent before the 2008 Olympics. Some become a stoic uniformed hutong, some become high rise buildings.

And yes, my toilet is not inside my home, but it’s a private one. My neighbors live half a meter away from me, but they never borrow my toilet. Some of them go to the outside public toilet, and some of them have a private toilet that they made themselves. My heating system is not that great, although the government has fulfilled its promise to bring a heating system in my hutong by 2008. It’s still freezing like nowhere in the world in wintertime.

This is how fruit is sold in a hutong. The seller displays fruit and their boxes.

And yes, in the beginning I was wondering how would I survive in this cluster of strangers that I had to embrace as close neighbors by proximity. They peeked to see the exotic food I cooked. They would often talk to each other about my strange foreigner behavior, like drinking coffee in the morning. They parked my bicycle somewhere else overnight because they disapproved of my selected parking space. They made comments about the underwear that I hung outside because there isn’t any drying machine for my laundry. I don’t wear big underpants, so leave me alone. Oh no. And did I mention the mold infesting my kitchen because it is so humid inside?

OK, this is not a hutong in Beijing. It's a conserved acient family home in Shanxi

But these are just some of the downfalls. When it is not very cold, and once the gossiper in the neighborhood feels it’s boring to talk about me, living in a hutong brings me so many rich layers of appreciation for life. In the summer and fall, I can cycle around the lake where the emperor used to stroll. I can see the changing color of the trees matching the red rooftop of palaces and temples. I can buy my vegetables, repair my bike, and have lunch with less than 3 US dollars. My neighbor has invited me several times for delicious snacks they made. Another neighbor who came from the countryside to be a nanny for less than 30 dollar a month, has also invited me to chat and have an apple at her home. And when I turn on my TV louder and later than theirs, nobody comes to complain.

And will I miss it? Sure I will.