How Turning an Unexpected Corner Can Land You Underground
A city preparing itself for the event of a lifetime. In the year before hosting the Olympics, Beijing was dressing up. Scaffolding was obscuring many buildings, and some walls hiding away more derelict areas were so freshly and pristinely painted, that they also could have been erected the day before we were walking past. It made us curious to see what was there behind them, so we turned a corner, and walked into an unassuming neighbourhood. In one street, we could see a sign above a door a bit ahead of us. Of course, we wanted to know what was there. Just as we came close enough to learn that it had something to do with an underground city, a tourist bus emptied a jolly group of slightly higher than middle aged people right in front of us. We followed them in, and were mistakingly counted as part of the group. No ticket needed, and a free tour in English, as the fun group consisted of Malaysians.
We were lucky visiting Beijing when we did. Up until about an hour before we arrived, it had rained for over a week. Now the sun was bringing late summer warmth and the air was washed clear of most if not all of the smog. A great week for semi-aimlessly wandering around the city, seeing some sights and just taking it all in. Eating fried dumplings at a rooftop bar, listening to Chinese opera music in a park. We turned many random corners, and found a lot of random joy.
Back to the underground city. We could, if I remember correctly, find some mention of it in our Lonely Planet guide, but it was just more fun to listen to the tour guide, and the quips and comments of the Malaysians. They were a cheerful and happy bunch, who really made our day. We saw them occasionally glance at us with some questions in their eyes, and one finally asked if we were part of their group. We admitted we weren’t, and they were happy for us to have joined them.
A vast complex, the Underground City was built as a nuclear bomb shelter in the Cold War as tensions between China and the Soviet Union were running high. It was a complete city, with sleeping quarters, hospitals and everything needed to survive a nuclear attakck. It is said it had over 900 entrances hidden in shops, most of which are now closed off. In fact, the whole Underground City is now closed off for visitors, apparently since early 2008. So I guess we were lucky.
Even seeing only part of this structure was impressive. Small corridors forming a maze, with some running off straight ahead. From these, we could only see some way beyond the dressing up the visitable part had received. The ends and sidestreets were hidden somewhere in the dark distance.
The memory is still rather fresh, even after 12 years. Apparently, the Underground City was closed off for visitors only a few months after our visit. Other sources talk of the Rat People living in the vast underground labyrinth, elusive to government forces trying to clean up the tunnels and chambers of this nuclear-attack-proof complex.
Our accidental tour ended in a silk store where I learned how silk was made. I had never given that much thought, and assumed it was from either a plant like cotton, or an animal fur like wool. Never realized it was made from cocoons from the silkworm. But the fun of the day didn’t stop there. We wandered some more, finding a restaurant where we ate something of which until this day I don’t know what it was. Menus were in Chinese only, with some pictures that did not inform our Western minds enough to figure out what was on them. We were sat in the middle of the restaurant, watched by the wait staff and, well, laughed at. That might sound weird, but it was actually a fun experience. You always think the world works in a certain way that the majority in your community think is how it should work. When you are in a different place, with different habits, you are the odd one out. The laughing seemed to us to be more out of wonder, than out of some sort of malicious intent. So, as we learned, they learned. Just by experiencing something and someone different.
To me, this is where the, what Germans call Fernweh comes from. Serendipitous discoveries that show unexpected corners and different ways of doing stuff. It’s the wandering and wondering that pulls me to places other than the one I grew up in. It doesn’t tear my roots out of the ground. They have been growing in different places in the world for generations anyhow. They are growing stronger and more flexible. Ready to dig in and find food, but also to be picked up and moved and dig in again. Even for just a few days on a city trip.
