My plan was to move to Beijing and score a home in one of the hutongs, the densely packed laneways in the center of the city that contain clusters of traditional courtyard dwellings. They’re known in Chinese as siheyuan (四合院). The idea of being able to hang in the private courtyard during summer with a BBQ, beers maybe some friends while pretending I was some neo-mandarin was delusional, but enticing enough to make a go for it. Little did I know that I would have better luck finding a snow fort in hell, and the weather would have been better there.

The biggest problem with these courtyard houses is that there aren’t any. Well none that I can afford anyway. If you want anything decent, you’re looking at upwards of a couple thousand US dollars a month. These ones are renovated with all the traditional woodwork, painting, parking and a couple of pygmies that will pull you in a rickshaw to the Peking Opera.

“BUT THAT’S NOT TRUE, there’s cheap ones out there!” I can hear some of you seasoned Beijing expats whining. Correct. Just like a microcosm of all that is China, the courtyards come in super rich, or super poor styles. The middle class is still confused, insecure and not sure what it is or wants to be. I saw several places that were just slightly within my price range (when they know it’s a foreigner looking for them the price gets jacked), but they were more than just fixer uppers. I mean, most of them looked to be modified by someone who had played Rubik’s cube their whole life but was never able to solve it. Just a complete jumble of rooms that made no sense. Most of the courtyards had been built over with concrete structures that looked fortified enough to withstand airborne attacks.

Often a few of the inner rooms still had some old geezers milling about with their pet pigeons that probably wouldn’t have been down with a bunch of western dudes getting buck wild to rock music and some floozies in the courtyard. But maybe they would have. I guess that will remain one of the great mysteries of our time.

One thing we couldn’t get drilled into the heads of the scheming property agents that were showing us places was that the whole point of having a courtyard home is the fucking courtyard. Why would I want to live in one of these things just for the sake of living here? If not for the courtyard, what is this magic “culture” they keep referring to that makes these places so special? The street cred, so I can be cool and say I lived for a year in one of these damn places and wore a mao suit as pajamas!? Do they think I want to live in this dilapidated area so that I can squat to take a shit next to someone else just to savor the hutong life? Do you think I want to navigate my way severely intoxicated through a series of impassible, unlit, alleyways that have random wires looking to get into the decapitation game just to get home from the bar?

I suppose you could renovate them, make em all nice and old school, get rid of those squatter toilets with the bucket of water for the flush, make the geezers hit the bricks and hook it up some pygmies to do your bidding. I also suppose your landlord would then quickly find a way to void your rental contract, make you hit the bricks, jack the rent, and charge a couple grand for it just like all the other renovated ones.

Yeah yeah yeah, history and architecture is fantastic and all, but honestly, most of them have been scarred beyond recognition. The ones that have been properly renovated are stuck in disneyesque tourist zones that require you to wade through tons of “oh isn’t this quaint” retards snapping photos of shops selling overpriced gimmicky bullshit that has nothing to do with the hutong life, culture or even common sense.

Well my solution to the ordeal was to say fuck the courtyards, fuck the hutongs, fuck the scheming agents and landlords and most of all fuck Beijing. If I’m going to get shanghaied might as well do it…in Shanghai! Longtangs here I come!

Filed under: dragons