You can go to the Qianmen area, but you can't go back. At least, not if your first visit was four or five years ago, or earlier. Not if you want to see again the glorious, chaotic warren of hutong that wound away on either side of the main street, Qianmen Dajie.

It was dirty, crowded and more than a little run down. But it was ever full of life.

Motorbike taxis, bicycles and pedestrians all jostling for space. The air was, heavy with the smell of sizzling vegetables and meat wafting from dozens of small restaurants. Haphazard signs and wires hanging over the narrow alleyways. The constant calls of vendors attracting attention to their wares.

The further down the hutong you went, the more residential it became, although always with at least some bustle of commerce. Mom-and-pop shops interspersed with courtyard homes, their open front doors offering glimpses of pots of flowers and creeping vines inside. And an occasional tree that was big enough to tower up out of its courtyard and spread its branches over the lane beside.

At night, the chirp of cicadas became a pleasant background din. Men, shirts rolled up to beat the thick summer heat, sat out on buckets around makeshift tables, playing cards in the glow of a dim light bulb. Women chattered as they played mahjong. Children laughed and chased each other.

Now?

It makes a prettier postcard, no doubt. The 2007 and 2008 renovation of the area made Qianmen Dajie one of the cleanest streets in Beijing. No vehicles of any kind is allowed. The new gray bricks practically glisten. But some of the area's soul got swept out with the grit.

The revamp was supposed to preserve the area's traditional feel and, sure, the new buildings look at a passing glance like ancient Chinese architecture. Walk down the street, however, and you soon realize it is a sparklingly sterile, Disneyland version of the traditional city.

There's Starbucks now, instead of stalls selling greasy flatbread. Zara instead of tailor stands run by old women using decades-old sewing machines.

Haagen-Dazs, Rolex, Nike and H&M instead of men selling crickets in bamboo baskets from the backs of their bicycles.

A few shoppers wandering down a nearly deserted street, pocked with empty shops instead of the hum and hustle of hundreds of people - buyers, sellers, residents - going about their business.

Security guards stop cyclists and ask them to dismount and leave their bikes behind in a street where bike rental shops had once helped customers pick a set of wheels before sending them happily on their way.

Silence has replaced the shouts of hawkers, the putting engines of motorbike taxis and the drone of cicadas.

It's reported that even the few high-end stores that can afford the expensive rents in the area are struggling financially.

Many of Beijing's hutong need to be upgraded but developers can do so while keeping the soul in them.

So, it's heartening to see recent reports in Beijing's Chinese and English language media that the proposed Gulou Time Cultural City development has been put on hold. It reportedly would involve demolishing and restoring many of the hutong around the Drum and Bell Towers and sounds similar to what happened in Qianmen.

Real estate developers didn't get it perfect in Qianmen and there's no need for a repeat.

(China Daily 09/13/2010 page)