All Intensive Purposes

Peter Hessler writes about Little Ju'er, the Beijing hutong (alley) where he lives, a surviving remnants of old Beijing.

Dozens of households might share a single entrance, and although the old residences have running water, few people have private bathrooms, so public toilets play a major role in local life. In a hutong, much is communal including the alley itself much is communal, including the alley itself. Even in the winter, residents bundle up and sit in the road, chatting with neighbors. Street vendors pass through regularly, because the hutong are too small for supermarkets.

The government has built outdoor exercise stations, which "are perfect for the ultimate hutong sport: hanging around in the street with the neighbors." Five years ago, the government rebuilt the public toilet, which became a community focal point.

After a while, there was so much furniture, and so many people there every night, that Wang Zhaoxin declared the formation of the "W.C. Julebu": the W.C. Club. Membership was open to all, although there were disputes about who should be chairman or a member of the Politburo. As a foreigner, I joined at the level of a Young Pioneer.

As you might expect, neighbors in the hutong get into each other's business, and Hessler is told by the local bicycle repairman that the local matchmaker, Teacher Peng, is ready to pair him with someone.

Teacher Peng wears him down, and Hessler eventually agrees to a date. But when they meet, she explains that matchmakers are not allowed to work with foreigners, and so theirs is an underground meeting. Naturally, then, they meet beyond the hutong, at the local McDonald's.

In Hessler's description -- and this is the part of the article I found most interesting, the reason for this post -- McDonald's provides a modern counterpart to the ancient communal space of the hutong. But not in the way I expected . . . .

When I first moved to the neighborhood, I regarded McDonald's as an eyesore and a threat: a sign of the economic boom that had already destroyed most of Beijing. Over time, though, hutong life gave me a new perspective on the franchise. For one thing, it's not necessary to eat fast food in order to benefit from everything that McDonald's has to offer. At the Jiaodaokou restaurant, it's common for people to sit at tables without ordering anything. Invariably, many are reading; in the afternoon, schoolchildren do their homework. I've seen the managers of neighboring businesses sitting quietly, balancing their account books. And always, always, always somebody is sleeping. McDonald's is the opposite of hutong life, in ways both good and bad: cool in summer, warm in winter, with private bathrooms.

It's also anonymous. Unlike Chinese restaurants, where waitresses hover, the staff at a fast-food joint leaves people alone. On a number of occasions, dissidents have asked me to meet them at a McDonald's or a K.F.C., because it's safe. When Teacher Peng told me that our meeting was "underground," I realized why she had chosen the restaurant.

Others apparently had the same idea. One couple sat near the window, leaning close and whispering. At another table, two well-dressed girls seemed to be waiting for their dates. Over Teacher Peng's left shoulder, I kept an eye on a couple who appeared to be having some sort of crisis. The woman was about twenty-five; the man seemed older, in his forties. Their faces shone with the unnatural redness that comes to many Chinese who have been drinking. They sat in silence, glaring at each other. Nearby, the McDonald's Playland(tm) was deserted.

My first thought was that McDonald's would be a private space, run as a private enterprise in the way that a franchise in this country might. But Hessler suggests that the restaurant is open to all comers, whether or not they pay for the food. It's a public space, but a public space of a different sort. As wonderful as the climate control may be, one senses that the most attractive aspect of McDonald's atmosphere is its anonymity, the possibility of personal boundaries that are impossible in the hutong. My surmise is that McDonald's is not actually anonymous, in that it serves a neighborhood, and that neighbors will see neighbors there. Hessler recognizes the local businessmen there, for example. And yet the foreignness of McDonald's means that the usual rules of social interaction are suspended, leaving a tacit understanding that people there are free to go about their own business.

The article is Peter Hessler's "Letter From China: Hutong Karma," at page 82 of the February 13 & 20, 2006, New Yorker. I can't find it on-line -- sorry. The issue also has a new story by Haruki Murakami, so it's well worth $4.99. My wife recommends Hessler's book River Town, though I have not read it (yet).