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Entering the modernized Beijing, what interest people the most often are not those row upon row of sky rises, nor are the wide streets extending in all directions. What really attract travelers are the deep and quiet winding Hutongs full of warm, beautiful Siheyuan, or quadrangles. Therefore, the ancient capital culture has been named as “Hutong culture” and “Siheyuan culture”, this indeed is not over said.

In the past, Beijing was largely formed by tens of thousands of Siheyuan that were aligned back-to-back, face-to-face, and side by side. For the convenience of coming in and out, a walking passage must be kept between each row of Siheyuan, this is what we call Hutong.

In the Yuan Dynasty, gaps between Beijing’s Hutongs were much wider. Therefore the descendants chose the open areas to construct more Siheyuan, created narrow passages between rows of Siheyuan courtyard houses, this resulted in massive small Hutongs among many well known big ones. Hence the proverb: “Famous Hutongs are 3600, nameless Hutongs exceeded number of ox hairs”.

Until 1949, there were 6074 well known streets and alleys in Beijing’s city areas. Out of which were 1330 Hutongs, 274 streets, 111 alleys, 85 Dao (small streets), 71 lanes, 37 roads. Traditionally, people classify all the small streets and alleys as Hutongs.

In Beijing, crisscross networked large and small Hutongs weaved the capital city with distinguished people and exquisite objects. Deep in the Hutongs are innumerable warm families, this is why ordinary Beijingers have special sentimental feelings towards Hutongs.

The narrowest Hutong in Beijing is the Qianshi (money market) Hutong in the Dashalan area of outside Qianmen, the narrowest space is merely 40 centimeters. There are also some winding deep Hutongs assumed zigzag shapes, like the Jiudaowan (nine-zigzag) originally at Beixinqiao (north new bridge), it actually had more than 20 zigzags, it was later divided into 5 Hutongs; There is another Hutong also named Jiudaowan outside Qianmen, it in fact has 13 zigzag turns. The name of Hutongs in Beijing is like an encyclopedia, it reflected the historical evolution and demonstrated the social characters and styles, it has been discovered as a hard to come by traveling resources in recent years.

Presently, those big worn-out courtyards in Beijing are being replaced by the modern buildings, the old Hutongs are also losing the base they once relied on to exist. But, to maintain Beijing’s ancient capital styles and features, many famous Hutongs have been reserved as the cultural relics, it preserved certain ancient colors for our emerging capital.

Now, Beijing’s Hutong culture development has already opened up a new travel program - visiting Hutongs. Foreign travelers from all over the world take Beijing’s old-fashioned pedicab as transportation, by pass the west line of Shuchangshahai, come to Gu Lou (the Drum Tower) through Yinding bridge, go up to Gu Lou to look down at Beijing’s old city areas and Hutongs that extend in all directions. They then go to the Houhai area, visit the city’s ancient Nanbeiguanfang Hutong, Daxiaojinshi (big and small golden lion), and Qianhoujing Hutong, walk in Siheyuan, chat with residents, get to know the life of ordinary Beijingers, go to the Gong Wang Fu (Mansion and Garden of Prince Gong in Qing Dynasty) to experience the living environment and Emperor’s gardens in the old times.

Beijing’s Hutong has a kind of eternal charm as a carrier of the ancient culture.

Note: You may freely republic this article hereby given author bio and active hyperlinks are kept active. Thank you.

Jacklyn Chen - Webmaster of news-blogs.com and a full time mom with two lille kids. Working very hard to make living with multiple web sites. For more articles and information about travel, visit her travel blog

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“Johnny Cash and June Carter met right here at the Ryman,” our guide tells us. “Johnny always said the just started talking and never stopped. Probably still talking, I reckon.”

We are standing in Johnny and June’s dressing room, backstage at the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. This huge, red brick building is known as the “Mother Church of Country Music,” and, indeed, the Ryman was built as a church, by Captain Tom Ryman in the 1890’s. It still has the original stained glass windows and it still has the same pews. And every inch of the Ryman still feels sacred to me, not in a solemn way but in a way that is altogether joyous and uplifting. The very air is thick with the memory of laughter and music and people just having a plain ol’ good time.

It’s a mighty big building, though, and it didn’t remain a church forever. It just couldn’t be sustained for that purpose. By the early years of the century, it was a place for all sorts of theatrical performances. Helen Hayes, Lilian Gish, Mae West, W.C. Fields, opera stars like Marion Anderson-they all played at the Ryman at one time or another.

Real fame came, however, in 1943 when the Ryman became the home of the Grand Ole Opry. The Opry was America’s favorite live country music radio show, heard over the airwaves across the South by people of all walks of life every Saturday night. The audience for the show would start arriving early in the morning for the evening performance. They couldn’t wait to sit on those hard pews in that hot building, cooled only by the paper fans the Ryman handed out, and listen to the sheer tomfoolery and down home music the Opry offered.

Back to today, and our tour. We’ve progressed to the room dedicated to Minnie Pearl. If the Ryman is the heart and soul of Nashville, Minnie is its angel. She is everywhere, and rightly so. Downstairs, we’ve already seen the beautiful brass statue just inside the entrance of Minnie sharing a bench and a laugh with Roy Acuff. It’s such a perfect rendition, you can just hear Minnie exclaiming, “Oh, Roy!” and that is the title of the statue.

The guard is affectionately telling one of the beloved “Minnie” stories:

Minnie said that one night at the back door of the Opry, a young man was waiting for her. He said he wanted her money, and she told him she didn’t have any. He didn’t believe her, so, “Ok, search me,” Minnie suggested. So the young man did- twice. Sure enough, he didn’t find a single dime. “I told you I didn’t have any money,” Minnie said, “but if you’ll do that again, I’ll write you a check.”

That was Minnie, and that was the Opry. The audience loved the performers, and the performers loved them right back. And that love and laughter is what lingers all over the Ryman today.

As we complete the backstage tour, and continue to the auditorium for the self-guided part of the experience, I keep almost hearing- not quite, but almost, snatches of voices: a bit of Hank Williams, Sr. doing “So Lonesome I Could Cry,” a bit of Minnie’s “Howdeee..just so proud to be here,” a bar or two of Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys.
My husband wants me to stand on the stage where the performers used to stand so he can take a picture. It takes me a while to agree. I don’t want to disturb the ones I can almost see still standing there.

Nothing else in Nashville feels as real and as authentic and as close to the good heart of the country as the Ryman does. For anyone with any interest at all in Country music or in American pop culture, a visit here is a must-see.

The Ryman Auditorium is located at 5th and Broadway in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. The tour hours are from 9-4:30. There are regular evening concerts.

Rhetta Akamatsu is a wedding planner, paralegal, and free-lance travel writer. She owns several websites, including a new one that will feature travel articles and links. Unlike this article, the website is focused entirely on Ghost tours and other paranormal parambulations at present. You can visit it at http://www.maxandstar.info/ghosttravel.htm

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Traveling through Europe in the late fifties, and speaking only a little German, I often relied on the kindness of strangers. Once in Paris, I was struck with the notion of capturing a “different” view of the Eiffel Tower. I wanted it to rise from a swirl of gray fog at the base, soaring majestically above the city. I was warned that any morning fog would be burned off by the six thirty rising of the sun, so I had better get up early. Six o’clock the next morning found me wandering around in the semi-dark, completely lost. The few pedestrians available for questioning seemed to be saying that they never heard of the Eiffel Tower. Finally, it dawned on one Parisian that I was looking for the Tour d’ Eiffel! He personally walked four blocks out of his way to escort me to my destination. I still have the picture somewhere.

Arriving in Madrid at the height of the tourist season, the only available accommodations were in top-of-the-line fancy hotels. My brother and I put our faith in fate to find us a room instead of calling ahead for reservations. We explained our predicament to the taxi driver from the airport who shook his head when hearing the amount of our available funds. He said that if we didn’t mind living with a family he knew, he could fix us up with a pension. Passing under the Arch d’ Triumph, he turned down a narrow alley and let us off in front of an antique looking oak door. He introduced us to the lady of the house who showed us a spacious room upstairs. The price was thirteen dollars per week double occupancy and included breakfast if we didn’t mind eating in their kitchen/dining room. Lovely!

On another occasion in the seventies, my wife and I were visiting
some friends in Munich. The father of a friend heard that we needed a place to stay and promptly changed his two week vacation to free up his apartment for our use. The beds boasted foot thick comforters and the convenient location in the center of the city made our vacation a huge success. He refused all offers of payment so we had to hide some money in his bible for him to find after we left.

Before we left Munich, I wanted to visit the famous AKG microphone factory in a small town nearby. I had just joined a Barbershop chorus and needed a pair of stereo microphones for my reel-to-reel tape recorder. AKG mikes were considered to be among the best in the world, known for their natural sound. A short train ride early one morning brought me to a large, modern building. I explained my needs to the receptionist who, while wanting to help, decided to refer me to the plant manager. He listened carefully to my story which included some indication of my budget. He asked the make of my tape recorder and the conditions of the hall. By now I was nervous about
how much this was going to cost me, what with the luxurious
atmosphere. Hidden spotlights reflected off the microphones in
display cases lining the walls, soft music and even softer carpets saying, “We are quality”. I was asked to have a seat as he disappeared through a door.

Apologizing for the delay, (only thirty minutes), he presented me with a matched pair of microphones with built-in proximity switches allowing the microphones to be used as hand held or for a distant chorus. He explained that the long wait was needed in order to build a transformer into the cord to match the impedance to my Grundig tape recorder. He escorted me to the cashier, writing down a price of fifty marks (about thirty dollars). The cashier asked if that was just for the cables and he told her, no, everything was included. The microphone cases had some small cosmetic scratches and did not pass their final inspection. I was ecstatic and promised to send him a copy of my first recording.

While the American presence in Europe was tolerated with some
misgivings, America itself was held in awe and these perfect
strangers would be friendly people in any country in the world.

Retired portrait photographer. Comments welcome.

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