hero media

Hidden in the Hutongs: Why Beijing Became Cool

Beyond the Great Wall of China, Beijing hides a new uprising of buzzing bars, boutiques and a city that’s finally found its cool, writes Alissa Jenkins

The clip clop of high heels echoes around a lofty foyer, staff dart around in blazers and Converse sneakers, while a car-sized sphere of pink button-up shirts hangs from the ceiling – you’d be forgiven for thinking this is a contemporary art gallery.

Fresh off a plane, I’ve just arrived at The Opposite House, Beijing, the first foray into China’s hotel scene by Swire Hotels.

Unlike traditional Chinese service, formal greetings are substituted for first-name chatter (staff is hired based on personality rather than skill set), and the pokey hotel rooms you’d expect across much of Asia are replaced with vast, light-filled suites that have attracted the likes of Beyoncé to Bieber.

In my room, a minimalist white-and-Japanese-maple design, a facial mask is left on the bedside table with a handwritten note reading “Been a long day?". I later learn these astute gifts are a nightly ritual for guests.

Already this is not the Beijing I expected – it’s cosmopolitan, it’s personalised, and it’s exceptionally warm. And it signals a shift that can be seen right across the city.

As the capital of China and home to some 21 million residents, Beijing has long been the go-to for historic landmarks, local politics and gimmicky markets. But beyond the Great Wall and faceless government offices, hidden amongst the hutongs (old networks of narrow alleyways) is an uprising of quirky restaurants, buzzing bars and funky boutiques.

“Beijing has changed immeasurably over the past few years, especially when you consider that it was only in the 1980s that China opened up to the rest of the world," says British expat Sarah Keenlyside, director of Bespoke Beijing – a travel agency that specialises in itineraries that go beyond the usual tourist haunts.

“These changes have become even more apparent since the 2008 Beijing Olympics," she adds. “It’s taken time but locals are learning to appreciate the value in nurturing artisanal products and local Chinese design as opposed to the mass produced – you just have to head off the beaten track to find them."

The first place she takes me to is testament to just that. Tucked down one of Beijing’s countless grey alleyways (a hangover of Imperial China when only the emperor could own a coloured building) which seems to be used for little more than parking bicycles and garbage skips, we reach a maroon-painted door.

“This is where we’ll be having lunch," smiles Keenlyside. Somewhat suspicious – alleyways seldom conjure up images of gourmet greatness – I step through the doorway to be hit with a wave of simmering garlic and clinking glasses. This is Susu, a popular Vietnamese restaurant housed in a renovated courtyard in Beijing’s Dongcheng district.

Since opening in 2011 it’s received its fair share of international media attention, as well as enthusiastic patronage from locals. As Keenlyside points out, in the last 12 months Chinese have started packing out local restaurants and bars, which used to be full of tourists. Today is no different.

“It’s a sign of the times really, with the growing wealth of local people," she explains, clasping a banana shrimp spring roll in her chopsticks. “There are dozens of places like this springing up across Beijing."

Among the most modish of this uprising is Chi, buried in the up-and-coming Wudaoying Hutong. Owned by local chef Nathan Zhang, the focus is on promoting locally-produced and sustainable products, fusing together cuisines from around the globe. It’s a cause close to Zhang’s heart – he also runs a local up-cycling fashion project called Brand Nu.

There’s also the incredibly popular, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it proportioned Mercante restaurant, run by Italian chef Omar Maseroli and his Chinese partner Yuan Yuan. Their handmade ravioli lures the suited and booted from the Italian Embassy to this tiny eatery nestled between a ramshackle street and a vegetable market, deep into the Fangzhuanchang Hutong.

A similar trend can be seen in the local bar scene, which is drawing the well-to-do into the city’s maze of non-descript laneways. Great Leap Brewing, for instance, is Beijing’s first craft brewery, hiding in one of the city’s oldest lanes behind an unmarked façade. Inside is a Chinese twist on the gastropub, run by American-born Carl Seltzer. The brewery incorporates unlikely local ingredients like watermelon, Sichuan peppercorn and tea to create curious brews such as Honey Ma Gold, Banana Wheat and Cinnamon Rock Candy.

Beijing’s retail offering has also seen a shift. As Keenlyside attests, 10 years ago Chinese people largely viewed locally-made products as “poor and somewhat less valuable", favouring foreign luxury brands (or convincing counterfeits) and enormous shopping malls instead.
“That’s now changing," she says. “Many of Beijing’s hippest boutiques and best design studios have been set up by local Chinese people, keen to have a hand in shaping their own city."

At the forefront of this movement is Belgian-born designer Jehanne de Biolley. Together with her Chinese husband, actor, filmmaker and furniture designer Harrison Liu, they are the living embodiment of contemporary Chinese design, dabbling in all sorts from jewellery, paintings and printed silks to scented candles and interior design (they recently completed the new Beijing offices for the World Health Organisation).
During my visit, the power couple are packing up their colourful showroom, housed in a former Ming dynasty temple, which is to be returned to the Buddhist Association.

“I’m thrilled that the temple will be restored and returned to the monks, despite the challenges it poses for us," smiles Biolley from under a woollen beanie.
“We’re still discussing new concepts with other artists but the location of our showroom will be released on our website [jehannedebiolley.com] as soon as possible."

Over in the lesser-known shopping strip of Guozijian Street, home to the Temple of Confucius, a quiet, centuries-old roadway disguises an eclectic mix of traditional family-owned toy shops, stylish homewares stores and funky little sneaker shops with Chinese street brands like Feiyue.

Increasingly popular amongst travellers, but still worth a visit, is Nanluoguxiang Hutong in the Bell Tower district, which in recent years has become somewhat of a haven for young locals.

The result is a bizarre mish-mash of vendors, with everything from the chic to the kitsch. Think homewares sold alongside churros sold alongside Plastered T-shirts from the flagship store. Turn a corner and you’ll find lesser-known gems like the atelier of Christopher Bu, whose designs have graced the wardrobes of style icons such as Katy Perry.

But perhaps one of the most surprising areas of the city is District 798, Beijing’s answer to New York’s SoHo or Brooklyn.

A burgeoning art district housed in a former munitions factory, it became a lively hub for artists circa 2000, before more recently becoming a gentrified version of itself. Like its New York counterparts, with increasing popularity and rent prices, younger artists have since relocated to the outer reaches of the city, leaving behind scores of galleries and museums, boutique shops, popular cafés and slick bars.

The artists that remain work closely with local establishments like the Opposite House, adding to the hotel’s distinctive art-gallery aesthetic. Among the stand-out galleries here is the Beijing arm of New York’s Pace Gallery and the Ullens Center for Contemporary Art (UCCA).

What’s even more surprising than the district itself is the art inside. Keeping in mind this is a city where Facebook and Twitter are banned, where you need to win a lottery for the right to buy a car, and where government officials have in the past arrived at artist studios to monitor what was being expressed, the artwork here is surprisingly avant-garde.

In the UCCA for instance, a tower of bondage paraphernalia soars above all other artworks and a vintage pornographic clip plays on repeat while two live models remain statue still in a Matrix-back-bending position, all in the name of art.

The current vogue for Chinese contemporary art amongst locals and travellers alike has spurred new art communities like District 798 to spring up across the city.

“There are two more art communities that have emerged. One is Caochangdi, just a few minutes from 798, where many established artists now work, such as the renowned Ai Weiwei," explains our freelance tour guide, Jerry Mao. “But the galleries are still quite spread out and you need to make a reservation to visit most of them," he adds.

The other is Songzhuang Village in the city’s outer eastern reaches which, according to Mao, is now the largest arts community in Beijing, overtaking 798 with around 1000 artists living and working in the area.

“You can find some very good quality artwork here that’s not overpriced like in some parts of 798," he says. “Many people believe it is the future of contemporary arts in China."

And what a promising future it is.

 

The details

How to get there
Cathay Pacific fly daily from several Australian cities to Beijing via Hong Kong.
Also, Cathay Pacific’s sister airline Dragonair, has introduced its new First Class on flights to Beijing (as well as Shanghai, Taipei and Kaohsiung). The new First Class cabins promise a new level of luxury with natural leather finishes, extra spacious seating (and bedding), not to mention increased storage and quality food and wine.

Where to stay
The Opposite House, located in Beijing’s embassy district, is in the heart of the Taikoo Li Sanlitun shopping development. Inside is a mix of contemporary design, local art and cosmopolitan touches, making for a luxurious and highly personalised stay. From $367 per night.

What to bring home
Forget the communist caps and silk pyjamas from any ol’ market and pick up a special little keepsake from one of Beijing’s hidden boutiques like Jehanne de Biolley. Our pick: a silk scarf with a monochrome dinosaur print, originally drawn by Biolley’s young son.

 

Discover the best of Beijing with travel experts Selective Tours, at www.selectivetours.com

 

Want to see more stories from International Traveller in your Google search results?

  1. Click here to set International Traveller as a preferred source.
  2. Tick the box next to "International Traveller". That's it.
hero media

These community homestays are changing how travellers experience Nepal

    After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers? 

    In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.  

    Tharu dance
    Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

    Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?  

    Nepal gray langur
    Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?  

    How tourism is changing in Nepal

    Bardiya National Park
    Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.  

    Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.  

    “Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.   

    Local men in Bhada village
    Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”  

    Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.” 

    CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.  

    A new generation demanding more

    Dalla Town Hall
    Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”  

    We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”  

    Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels
    Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

    In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you… 

    bouda stupa prayer flags
    Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.  

    Boudha Stupa vendors
    Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.  

    A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi
    A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.  

    Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.  

    Life unfiltered in the Terai region

    tharu woman
    Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.  

    Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.  

    safari through Bardiya National Park
    Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.  

    Marigolds
    Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    “The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.  

    On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.  

    community homestay entrance
    A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.  

    The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.  

    In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.  

    food at community homestay
    Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.  

    The power of community homestays 

    community homestay owners in Nepal
    Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.  

    “I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?” 

    The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed. 

    Sonara community room
    An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.  

    Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.  

    CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.  

    “Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.  

    Elephant watch
    Elephant watch. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.  

    Gathering greens
    Gathering greens. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    “We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.” 

    Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”  

    Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal