This business trip to Beijing, I deliberately did not choose a chain business hotel. With the advice of my old Beijing friend, 'If you want to find a place to stay with roots, go to Jianguo Hotel,' I settled for Jianguo Hotel Beijing next to Chang'an Avenue. At the moment of pushing open the revolving door, the hustle and bustle of the journey was suddenly scattered by the warm and cozy lights in the room.
There is no deliberate cool luxury like in modern hotels. The old counters in the lobby are made of deep brown wood, and the leather sofas with warm edges are polished. Even the air is filled with a faint mixture of old books and aromatherapy. The receptionist handed over the room card with a smile and said that this hotel had been open since 1982, which was one of the earliest joint venture hotels in Beijing. Many foreign guests came here as their first stop. I touched the outline of the old building printed on the room card and suddenly felt that it was not a simple proof of occupancy, but more like a key to unlock old times.
My room faces east, and it's past six in the morning. The sunlight seeps in through the sheer curtains, making the outline of the old desk lamp on the table soft. On the small table by the window, there are two celadon tea cups, not the same disposable tea bags, but a small jar of local jasmine tea. I boiled a pot of water, and when the smell of tea came out, I could see the old locust tree outside the Jianguo Gate downstairs. The master of morning exercise was swinging a whip to walk the birds. The students in school uniforms were walking towards the alley with soybean milk in their hands. This was the fresh smoke and fire that could not be seen in the CBD high-rise buildings.
What surprised me the most was the breakfast at the restaurant. There were no fancy Western dishes like those in popular hotels, but the sincerity of old Beijing was fully displayed. The fried coke ring still emits oil stars, and the fermented sour milk made from ground mung bean wow gold is boiled to the right consistency, so I drink it with a small dish of shredded mustard, warming my throat to my stomach. Seeing that I was a stranger, the aunt at the stall also gave me an extra piece of candy to burn: "Girl, taste this, put enough sesame paste, which is the old taste we have been doing here for decades." The french window of the restaurant is facing the small garden, and several white haired foreign grandfathers sit by the window, talking in less fluent Chinese that the last time they came to Beijing was 1998, and the white pine outside the window was not so high at that time.
After finishing my business in the afternoon, I didn't take a taxi back to my room and walked slowly around the small garden of the restaurant. Although the wisteria on the porch has passed its flowering period, its leaves are still green and shiny. A few guests sit on the benches chatting, including a family of three who came for tourism and old business travelers who often stay here. No one is urging you to rush, even the wind has eased your steps. Passing by the old photo wall of the restaurant, I saw doormen in sharp uniforms welcoming guests in the 1980s, and the Western restaurant was filled with tourists holding cameras. Suddenly, I realized that this restaurant has never used "old" as a selling point. It has truly accompanied Beijing for more than 40 years, incorporating the people I have seen and the stories I have experienced into the patterns of every floor.
In the past, when I came to Beijing, I was always busy rushing to tourist attractions and crowded on the subway, making my schedule very tight. This time staying at Jianguo Hotel Beijing, I suddenly understood another taste of traveling: there's no need to chase after check-in points. In the old western-style house next to Chang'an Avenue, I can drink a cup of jasmine tea, take a bite of the hot candy fire, and catch a handful of leisurely old time that belongs exclusively to Beijing. On the day I left, the front desk handed me a small bag of homemade osmanthus cake and said that I would stay here again next time I came to Beijing. Holding the bag of warm Dim sum, I suddenly felt that I had stayed in a hotel for a night. It was clear that I had stolen a soft old day in the fast-paced Beijing.Show more