Each one carried a low stool and what I took to be some kind of musical instrument. Three old guys came in and walked slowly up to the dais and stepped up.
None of the patrons looked to be less than forty years old. We sat for a while and gradually the tables filled up. In this place they have storytellers, old men from the neighbourhood who tell tales from Chinese classical literature.” Not so much anymore, since most people have radio and TV. “In old Beijing,” Lao Xu continued, “it was the custom for a lot of people to come to the neighbourhood teahouse and sit with their friends and talk. Once the men heard foreign talk there’d be no end to the staring. I knew he was talking low so we couldn’t be heard. “This is a kind of teahouse, Shan Da,” Lao Xu said in a voice so low I could hardly hear him. I hoped that in the dim lighting no one would see my blue eyes. Most of the men at the other tables kept their hats on, so I did, too. I sat down while Lao Xu went to a sort of bar and bought a couple of bottles of orange pop and some beer. Lao Xu and I found an empty table at the end of the room, right beside a small dais. Some were playing Chinese chess on the paper “boards”, picking up the round pieces and slapping them down as they completed their moves. A couple of dozen men sat around the tables smoking, drinking tea or beer, and talking.
EMERALD CITY CONFIDENTIAL MR TICK TOCK FULL
Inside was a darkened room, full of small round tables. We locked our bikes under a tree and crossed the courtyard to an old building. Lao Xu stopped and we pushed our bikes through a gate and into a courtyard about twice the size of a tennis court. We turned right onto one of the hu tongs and Lao Xu led the way as we rode slowly, dodging carts and pedestrians and mini-transports - those big three-wheeled bikes with the platform behind the driver. The buildings along the street are very old. Qian Men is a narrow street with lots of hu tongs leading off it. I read that Mao Ze-dong used the park as an execution ground to get rid of his political enemies, but I didn’t say anything to Lao Xu about that.
Once past the square we continued south along Qian Men Street, the route the emperor used to take when he went to the Temple of Heaven to pray for good harvests. There were lots of people in the square, most of them near the base of the Monument to the People’s Heroes.
“And better wear your Chinese disguise.”Ī few minutes later we were cycling through a cool evening along the west side of Tian An Men Square, which was well lit up by the streetlights. “Bring your tape recorder, Shan Da.” Lao Xu said. “Want to come with me to hear some live history? Military history? It’s nearby,” he added to my dad. After saying hello to Dad and Eddie, he said to me, “You doing anything special now, Shan Da?”
0 kommentar(er)
