拆. Chai. If there is one Chinese word that could encompass the wholesale destruction of culture, it would be this character. Painted on the outer walls of buildings, it marks hutongs for demolition, only to be replaced by the same generic, mass-produced, shops and eateries found in newly developed areas of the city. Much has been written and photographed on this subject. In an effort to keep up with a globalized world, Chinese cities are all too eager to “chai” the very qualities that make them unique, slap on the right brands and shiny fixtures to fit in with the cool kids.
My friend Simon (of Metavari fame <– woo! shameless plug. Acoustic wonderfulness) is fond of long bike rides. He’ll regularly hop on his massive steel bike, throw on some tunes and ride for four hours or more at a time. On one particular occasion, I joined him for one of these ambling rides. We zipped along the crowded streets, rode helmet-less against traffic, and for all extents and purposes, took little to no precaution with our safety. (In other wards, it was just a regular bike ride in China.)
I had a budding interest in documenting what was happening in the hutongs and Simon, true to form simply said “follow me.” A few hours later, I found myself standing literally in the rubble of peoples’ former lives. (I’m not kidding. There was even a Teletubby lying among the ruins.)
