On Jackson Hole, Hebei Province, China

On Jackson Hole, Hebei Province, China

NB: Warning; the following is pretty long for this blog, but it deals with what I think is a pretty fascinating story about Chinese imitation architecture and the vacation home presence of the Chinese upper class that we more or less accidentally stumbled into while on a hiking trip. Enjoy.

Within the context of a trip to 古崖居 (Guyaju – lit. ‘Ancient Cliff Dwellings' – itself a pretty great trip and the feature of an upcoming blog post), we found ourselves in the farthest northwest reaches of Beijing, in Yanqing County on the border of Hebei Province (a collar province surrounding the Beijing-Tianjin megalopolis area on three sides). We crossed a mountain range (and the Great Wall) to get there, but due to the governmental policy of uniting the biggest metropolitan areas and their exurbs and satellite cities into a single provincial-level administrative division, we were technically still in 北京市. As far as we could tell, however, we had squarely hit the Hinterland—areas of rural character dotted with small cities, covered by expansive grape fields that stretched between the 燕山 (Yān Shān) mountains overlooking Beijing and the 太行山(Tàiháng Shān) mountains across the valley. The Guishui River flowing from Inner Mongolia expanded into the 官厅水库（Guāntīng shuǐkù）Reservoir East of Yanqing and was prominently visible from most raised parts of the valley. This, more or less, is the character of Yanqing County and the areas west towards Zhangjiakou, and the overall effect was one of some natural beauty. Far from the crazy urban heartbeat of Beijing, things were quieter up here.

During our 3-hour trip from 北大, we somehow got on the topic of Chinese imitations of entire Western villages, cities, and architectural styles. The most famous of these are of course the icon of the housing bubble that is the exurb mini version of Paris built outside of Shanghai and (at least to me) the exact copy of Halstatt, Upper Austria, built in Guangdong. One of our group (fellow cool UChicagoan Alicia French) directed us towards an existing body of academic knowledge on the psychology and planning behind these imitations and their place from the point of view of Chinese society, which I won’t pretend to be able to explain here (she recommends Bianca Bosker’s Original Copies: Architectural Mimicry in Contemporary China as a good read on the topic). During this discussion, carried out on the Y01 bus from Yanqing Station, a project was mentioned – allegedly a group of developers was attempting to recreate Jackson Hole, the famous Wyoming ski resort town, in the mountains around Beijing.  

When we got off the bus, we still had a few miles to go, but the mountains were already clearly visible, rising over both the ubiquitous grape fields and a surprisingly large housing project. Half a dozen 15-story buildings were under construction, far from the closest larger settlement (the 100,000-strong city of Yanqing we left behind an hour ago) and even further from the closest major job centers in Beijing. Lo and behold, as our road to the 古崖居 passed by the housing development, we saw the signs: “Jackson Hole” and “家乡，美国“ (“Hometown, USA”, the Chinese name of the development). We had accidentally stumbled on the premier ‘imitation American’ housing development in China.

Looking down on Jackson Hole (PC: Alicia French)

After scrambling around the ancient cliff dwellings in the area, we decided we had to take a look into Jackson Hole. A strategically placed stand with representatives from the development was conveniently (?) waiting for us right by the entrance of the national park. Some quick words from Yongpei (who had countless times improved our trip massively with his timely communication skills), and we were off on our very own guided tour, complete with a ride in the traditional all-American golf cart.

Entering Jackson Hole, with the 太行山 in the background (PC: Alicia French)

Honestly, it was very well done. The mountains of the Guishui River's valley looked, if not Teton, at least like some lower ranges of California or Montana, giving some geographical legitimacy to the frontier aesthetic. The development contained row after row of pretty traditional American mountain resort houses (at least, based on my own experiences in Utah and Colorado)  - including 2 to 3 stories, lots of dark wood elements, large family rooms with fireplaces, and large yards, to be had for a few million RMB. The 15-story apartments we saw from afar still incorporated that design aesthetic, and were presumably for the less well-off individual who still wanted an American vacation home experience. There was a main street; presumably to be filled with designed clothing outlets and coffee shops. An upscale French brasserie, Rève, was built, and had apparently attracted a Michelin-starred chef. Most shocking to us, however, was the bona fide Christian church placed at the center of this planned community. This cherry on top of the American aesthetic is actually intended to be used as a normal Christian church. At least one of the current residents (a certain Annie Liu, a Beijing-based lawyer) of the development adopted Christianity in graduate school in the US, and said of the church “This is an ‘American’ community so it’s a necessary element here”.

The (real) church of Jackson Hole, Hebei

So where does this come from? What is its target audience? Somewhat surprisingly (though predictable, considering the incredible accuracy of the upscale modern-ish American vacation home ‘feel’ the development exuded), the brainchild behind this project was an American designer, Allison Smith.  She was brought onto this project in the mid-2000s by a Seattle-based realty management company consulting the developers, who, at the time, had somewhat haphazardly placed a few villas into the dirt in Yanqing. After throwing some broad design ideas past the Chinese team, they settled on Jackson Hole, WY, both because of the aesthetic of the mountains around the development and an already existing fascination with American kitsch among a certain group of younger, well-off educated Chinese. The ‘town center’ was lifted almost directly from ‘Teton Village’, Jackson’s main street, more or less. The vibe the developers and consultants wanted was the ‘small-town America’ feel of close-knit communities with a hint of Wild West and a touch of the American frontier.

The main offices/event space of the development

But the target audience is anything but modest and small-town (to be fair, Jackson Hole’s county is one of the wealthiest in the U.S. as well). The houses start at one million RMB (around $150,000, compared to the average yearly income in Beijing of $4,000) and likely go into the double digit millions for a 3-story mansion with a large yard. From the stories of residents who live here, it seems like the target audience is rich, middle aged, positively affected by American soft power, and with a love of American culture culture (or not; a current resident with a “God Bless America” sign hanging from his mantle admits, “Actually, I don’t really have any strong feelings towards the U.S.”) Annie Liu from above and her husband even have a Declaration of Independence they bought in Florida framed on their wall. The final piece in the puzzle of finding this target audience comes from a quote from the project website: “almost all U.S. presidents, telecoms tycoons, financial magnates, media giants, Hollywood stars have their own private Vacation Home” – this development is for those who want to live like famous Americans they know from the news, TV shows, or movies. They see having a vacation home in the American style as a status symbol, but beyond this are genuinely attracted to what they perceive to be the American way of life. In the words of the head developer, Liu Xiangyang (no relation), "For those who can afford to buy houses here, they have enough money… They want spiritual fulfillment."

All in all, it was a little surreal. Ms. Smith seems to have done an incredible job in getting the feel of American resort towns transplanted into Hebei Province, not in the least due to her apparent sending of authentic Wyoming artifacts to Chinese manufacturers to have reproduced and strategically places inside the homes of the development.  If we didn’t look too hard, it really felt American. The stairs in the buildings even had the right amount of creak in them. Of course, proving (probably thankfully?) that even well built facades can’t fully hide the difference between a few years of master planning and a century of organic cultural and architectural development, there were always a few reminders that what we were seeing wasn’t entirely real, like a closer look at the bookshelves – the books were all fake (ahh yes, the great classic IMPKIAL CROWN) – or at the construction scaffolding (large red banner slogans providing motivation for the toil of the comrades would probably be looked upon strangely at American construction sites). Mind you, Ms. Smith is proud of her work, and makes it clear on her personal blog what she thinks of the cultural and philosophical implications of the development in an entry titled “Inspiration is the Highest Form of Flattery.” In response to the sympathetic Atlantic article linked to above, which was written by someone who grew up in Jackson Hole (WY, USA), she says she’s had an amazing feeling about knowing that someone “gets it," and that the project was "one of the most ... rewarding I've ever done."

This picture could've literally been taken in
SoCal and no one would notice the difference.

The little things.

We left Jackson Hole, the grape fields, the Teton stand-in mountains, and the Yanqing plain behind on our early evening S222 train service back to Beijing, probably never to come back (personally, if I had 1-5 million RMB I’d likely spend it on somewhat different types of housing, though I might see what the local ski resort, yes, there is one, has to offer one of these days….), but taking with us the weird knowledge that this Chinese construct of ‘duplitecture’ that we had previously only chuckled at from afar was actually real (well, as ‘real’ as such a development can be, I guess. What is real, anyway :p ). Without better understanding the cultural and sociological background to developments like this, I hoped to avoid making any judgements about this place beyond my own personal reactions. As the Atlantic article put so well, "...the truth is that Americans who visit the original Jackson Hole are buying into the same fantasies almost as eagerly as the well-off Chinese who buy homes in Jackson Hole, China." To finish off, I have to quote a running theme in Changsha Nights, a fellow foreigner blog (go read it for a completely different experience and perspective than mine), and a short, but perfect encapsulation of much of the 'weird' things we see every day here, “This is China”.

(Thanks to the writers and collaborators behind the CNN, FP, and The Atlantic articles I quoted and paraphrased extensively above)

On Picking a Fight with Food and Losing

Now, my stomach can handle a lot. I won’t say I ‘pride’ myself on being able to shove many a ‘strange’ (to our delicate western sensibilities) dish down my throat (also partially because I recently read an article on deep-fried spiders and literally avoided any fried food for a few days while my mind calmed down again, therefore I guess giving up any claim to being able to stomach anything), but I do take great pleasure in finding new food that I’m unfamiliar with and eating enough of it that I can’t move for a day and a half. This is one of the things I love about traveling in China - in few other places can one find such a variety of food distinctly different from Western food styles and preparation.

This approach will sometimes burn you.

Szechuan Peppers and the Banality of Fear (of food)

A few days ago, each floor in our dorm went out to dinner together, in the area around 北大. I don’t exactly know if the restaurant had any particular theme, but in any case, food was piled onto our table in a fashion that only a delicious Chinese family style dinner can provide. But, hidden within the mountains of rice, broiled meat, and vegetables, was my first entry into this list of ‘things that prove Kevin’s mouth is too weak for this shit’. It was contained within a Sichuan boiled fish dish. The fish came mostly submerged in a pool of oil and broth several inches deep, topped with a layer of floating red peppers (chile de arbol, I think?) and other pretty strong flavorings. The fish was deliciously tender, and with just enough of a kick to allow me to still enjoy it with my central European taste buds. But with the fish, I had shoveled some of the peppers and spices onto my plate as well. I avoided the peppers at all costs, worried about what terrors lay within. But then I met my new enemy.

During a brief lull in the otherwise nonstop consumption of food that was going on, I started absentmindedly chewing on some small peppercorn-type spheres on my plate. They were slightly crunchy, and seemed to give a perfect occupation for my mouth to busy itself with while I waited for my stomach to allow more food. I went through about six or seven of them before it hit me.

My mouth lit on fire. It felt as if hot gas was forming spontaneously in my mouth and instantly trying to escape. Just as it felt as if my mouth was about to get badly burnt, the feeling suddenly shifted drastically colder, as if the heat was being sucked out through my now open and terrified mouth. And then, just as suddenly as the coming of the first two phases of this weird hellish feeling, a tingling sensation began to spread around my entire mouth. Soon my mouth felt as if it was being vibrated into submission from the inside, and everything from my tongue to my gums started going numb. The feeling is the kind that makes your tongue constrict and do weird things to try and escape it. The only thing you can taste is a weird, slightly metallic sting, that resists any attempts to replace it. I quickly shoveled steamed rice, hot water, even other spicy food to try and counteract the effect, to no avail. There was nothing left for me to do but wait out the new uselessness of my mouth for the next 10 minutes.

See, it turns out I had decided to pick a fight with 花椒 (huājiāo) – Szechuan Peppers – an infamous Szechuan spice that gains its terrifying powers from small amounts of hydroxy-alpha sanshool, a still only partially understood chemical compound that manages to supremely confuse human taste receptors like nothing else I’ve ever eaten. Results from rubbing ground花椒 on the lips of some incredibly willing participants (probably some poor UCL undergrads who were excited at the flyers proclaiming ‘food study! Get paid to eat!’ lying around their campus) found that the tingling sensation consistently averages around 50 Hz, supporting a hypothesis that nerve receptors (specifically, Meissner receptors, if that says something to anyone) involved in touch were activated by the peppers as well (in addition to heat and cold receptors). Essentially, your lips were tricked into thinking they’ve been vibrated pretty quickly, causing the brain to interpret the resulting signal as numbness. The reason why people can eat this on a regular basis is that it is usually ground up and distributed over a large sauce, and probably never just munched on absent-mindedly (past Kevin: take note).

Honestly, the feeling is kind of cool. Not something I would suggest doing regularly, but I feel it’s the kind of culinary experience you should try at least once.

Adventures in Beijing Food: Chaogan Edition

I start this next section off with an apology to fans of Beijing cooking, 北京人 in general, and the staff of the steamed dumpling restaurant on 鼓楼西大街 for having to throw out a 99% full bowl of what I am about describe after I left the establishment. I will make no claim about the objective quality about this dish, since that would be impossible, both from a general perspective that taste is entirely subjective, and with the admittance that I have not had the opportunity to get used to this sort of food enough to make such a statement (hey, my people put horseradish on sandwiches, you probably think that’s weird, too). Anyways. Here goes.

After a few hours wandering about various hutongs within the Second Ring Road between 南锣鼓巷 (nánluógǔxiàng) and 积水潭 (jīshuǐtán) subway stations, I had decided I needed some food. After some wandering, I came across a restaurant promising great steamed dumplings. So far so good. I enter, and am faced with a wall of pictures, showing different dishes. So far, so better! I order the combination depicted on the first one (primarily by pointing – it appears to be some sort of meat-filled dumpling and soup combo), pay, and am directed to the pickup counter next to the kitchen in the back. My dumplings arrive, and the cook picks up a bowl. That’s when I first saw 炒肝 (chaogan). It was brown. It had meat-looking things in it. This by itself didn’t worry me; many Chinese broths and soups that I very much enjoy look similar from far away. But I quickly realized something in my taste buds was going to be amiss when he ladled the mixture into my bowl. It had the consistency of gelatin. My bowl was filled to the top, and quietly jiggled to itself. I became worried. I carried my tray of dumplings and炒肝 to a table after picking up some dipping sauce (soy sauce, surprisingly – I had expected vinegar, which seems to be the significantly preferred option in most of China, unlike in our own kitchen in Chicago). I took my spoon, dipped it into the炒肝, and moved it towards my mouth. Suddenly the whole experience of this dish hit me. It jiggled like Jell-o on my spoon, it smelled like the worst smells at an old folks home, and it was filled with more unidentifiable meat than I had experienced in memory. I would later find out that this meat is boiled pork liver and intestine, and the consistency comes from starch added in the last step of the process to thicken the broth. But at this moment something about the combination of smell, consistency, and sight made my mouth attempt to run screaming the other way. I couldn’t even finish one dumpling that only so much as touched an errant glob of炒肝 that hit my table. I left the entire rest of my bowl on the table and quickly walked out in shame. I had faced a new food, and I had most definitely lost.

Here is our friend, on the left

Having read up more on this stuff, I think I might have gotten unlucky and just picked a bad batch. The soup is apparently supposed to be clearer, and more like a thickened broth than gelatin, and a large part of the taste is supposed to be the garlic/soy/vinegar combination (a usually quite winning combination) in the sauce. So maybe, just maaaaybe, I’ll try it again, for example at Yauji Chaogan, allegedly the best in town for炒肝 (good enough to attract Joe Biden, who came… but ordered the black bean noodles instead). On the other hand, to quote a slang expression about炒肝 – ‘eating Chaogan is an internecine struggle’ – maybe I’ll pass just this one.

(Fun fact: as legend has it, the name炒肝 (fried liver), despite being a misnomer (the liver is boiled, not fried), comes from a suggestion by a food critic contemporaneous to its invention, who posited that it would sound more appetizing)

On Chinese Foreigner Hospitals

Yesterday morning was our scenic trip to the Beijing International Travel Healthcare Center in Haidian – the (only) Beijing address to get one’s residency permit healthcare check completed. A 45-minute bus ride North in reverse-peak traffic brought us to the center, located in a new, fast-growing suburb of Beijing (half of the neighborhood was currently under construction, with similar-looking ten-story apartment buildings common to many new areas around the city). The center is only open 8:30am-11am during the week, and was correspondingly crowded with hordes of fellow 老外, despite our pretty early arrival at 8:45.

The center was an exercise in efficiency. Each part of the medical check (chest X-ray, EKG, vision test, blood test, weight, blood pressure…) was conducted at breathtaking speed in a different room, between which we shuttled with our paperwork, collecting stamps at each station. My longest stopover at any station was probably in the room of their ancient-looking EKG machine, in which the attending nurse had a quite difficult time ripping up my shirt to put voltmeters on my chest (I had a button-up shirt on over my t-shirt, and despite my repeated offers to take off the button-up (met with annoyed calls of 不不不), she preferred to just semi-violently push up my shirt until it was finally awkwardly bunched enough for her taste). Despite the power struggle between my clothes and the machine, I was still in and out of that room in roughly 90 seconds. Relatedly, EKG machines are weird as hell.

Now one thing to mention about this process and its efficiency – it was very clear that the focus of the process was primarily getting as many foreigners out with their documents as possible. Sure, the chest X-Ray, blood test, and EKG spat out results that are probably being analyzed right now, but the prevailing attitude seemed almost to be along the lines of ‘we need this done, you need this done, let’s just get it over with’. The eye doctor asked us to identify one letter each only (the letters were all either E, W, or M), and seemed to care incredibly little about the line in the floor marking presumably where one was supposed to stand for the exam. The Yenchinger after me barely got to the desk (three feet closer to the exam board than the line) before the doctor slapped his stick on a letter.

In the end, it was an interesting experience. It wasn’t really the ‘Chinese hospital experience’, since it seemed like the main purpose of this place, at least during weekday mornings, was to process as many visa health checks as humanely possible. To be honest, I’d probably be pretty happy if I don’t end up in any hospital, included cultural experience or not, over the next year. So, with my health checks in hand (or at least in four business days when I get them back), I’ll soon be off to the next step in becoming a (temporary) resident of China!

PS: Next blog post is gonna be fun – I’m going to dive a bit into the PKU graduate student handbook. We had to take a test on it.