Metropolis reminds us of village past

It was a late-night taxi I intercepted in front of Wanda cinema in Guomao, at the heart of the CBD area of Chaoyang district. I got the most unexpected response when I told the driver I was heading toward a block near Sun Park.

"Why?" asked the driver, who appeared to be in his late forties, "I thought you wanted to go and have fun at our Xidan."

"His" Xidan is a well-known shopping district located within Beijing's second ring road and just one subway station away from Tiananmen. "Why would I go there? Shopping malls are closed now," I asked confused.

"No, it is bustling, unlike the darkness here," he bantered as we turned onto the third ring. The skyscrapers on both sides were already dimmed from their shiny daytime apparel and appeared lonely since most white-collar workers had long gone home.

Sun Park is not far from Guomao, but I apparently messed up the driver's plan. He thought I was heading toward Xidan close to where he lived, and he could soon swap with a neighbor who'd take the night shift on the car. "You live in Chaoyang? In my childhood, only when we wanted to catch crickets did we come here," He smiled, "Now they get rich, and even get themselves a foreign name CBD!"

I couldn't help laughing for his purposeful stressing of the letters "CBD." The atmosphere was quite subtle in the taxi, but it is one I have felt a few times since I came to work and live in Beijing three years ago. Needless to say, Beijingers are very tolerant toward latecomers, especially compared with locals in other places in the country. But this does not mean they do not have a sense of pride and superiority.

In the past three years, I've learned from more than a few old Beijingers that "in the past, only the district within the nine gates was Beijing city, and all other places were villages." In other words, only those within the second ring are authentic urban dwellers; and for the past three years, I, like many others who see the third ring as a fancy downtown district, actually spent our time in a big village!

This idea greatly amused me. Before talking to the taxi driver, it barely occurred to me that Chaoyang is being discriminated against by Xicheng, since in newcomers' eyes urban boundaries have already extended to the sixth ring. It's like a slight revenge toward latecomers, especially some successful ones who have redefined Beijing's landscape with dazzling, new landmarks.

The colossal wave of population migration has changed the social structure and look of Beijing, and lots of important, well-paid jobs are being occupied by outsiders. It's all too natural that locals who witness all these abrupt changes taking place in just a few years would like to return to the old city they keep locked away in nostalgic memories.

But there is always a balance. As the city continues to swell, it becomes increasingly difficult for latecomers to get a place within its coveted center. A friend who recently bought a house in Tongzhou, far in the southeast of Beijing, told me of her envy of another friend whose place was tucked away within the third ring road. She might have felt better if she took up the driver's viewpoint; no matter inside or out, we're all bumbling around the same village.