誰來保護老北京的胡同？
克萊麗莎·塞巴格·蒙蒂菲奧里 2013年03月21日
北京的很多胡同和古建築正在面臨拆除的命運。
北京——我住的院子位於老北京的中心區域，能看到幾百年來一直幫助百姓計時的鼓樓。
如今，鼓樓每天仍然會為遊客敲鼓。但在過去幾周里，在與鼓樓毗鄰的那個廣場，卻有另一種聲音隆隆作響，大鎚正在砸倒周圍的建築。
多年以來，政府一直在提議把鼓樓和臨近的鐘樓附近的建築夷平。2010年，當地媒體報道，除了鐘樓和鼓樓之外，周邊區域的建築都會被拆除，包括蜿蜒的胡同和破舊的四合院，從而騰出空間建設全新的“北京時間文化城”和地下商場。
這最後並未成為現實。然而在2012年底，政府張貼出了新的通知，要求當地的商戶和居民在2月24日前搬離。我的家距離廣場隔了一條胡同，因而幸免於難，然而按計劃，數十座院落將被拆毀。許多住戶已經離開了，留下來的則要求得到更多的補償。
政府最新的計劃是，將廣場恢復到本來的樣貌，就像18世紀的清朝地圖裡繪製的那樣。這塊區域現在蕪雜地排列着各個時期的建築，一些胡同的歷史可以追溯到13世紀，許多建築則只有幾十年的歷史。
更大的可能性是，政府的這一舉動是出於商業目的。鼓樓所在的區域是黃金地段，位於中國首都的核心地帶。在居民離開後，官方就能收回土地，通過出售或批租獲取巨大的收益。官方也希望產生更多的旅遊業收入。通過拓寬廣場周邊狹窄的道路，開發商還能增加車流量，尤其是旅遊巴士。
我的一些鄰居對此表示出了樂見其成的態度。他們說，這片房屋破落的雜院也該拆除了。有時，一座院落里要擠下九戶人，而且有的房屋沒有供暖或下水管道。對他們來說，保存歷史遺迹是一件奢侈的事，政府給予的拆遷補償也很誘人，每平方英尺660美元，政府還在市郊提供一套公寓。
但在劉進民（音譯）看來並非如此。他年近花甲，是一位退休的武術運動員。他就出生在鼓樓附近的一條胡同里，現在住在另一條能看到鐘樓的胡同里，其景 觀令人印象深刻。在這裡，他為旅遊團提供午餐。為了讓他搬走，政府給出的條件是乘坐公交車一個半小時才能到達的，四環外的高層公寓。那裡離岳父常去的醫 院、兒子們就讀的體校、門外他和朋友們聚起來打麻將的地方都很遠。
劉進民認為，毀掉胡同，就意味着毀掉老北京生活的肌理。幾周前他對我說，“每家每戶都有自己的故事。這些普通人離開了，和他們並存的文化也就離開了。”劉進民哪兒也不去，他說他曾因為抗議拆除自己居住的上一處院落，坐過兩個月牢。舊院子最後還是被拆掉了。
過去幾周，推土機已經開始在鼓樓區域大舉開動。在最近一個周三的下午，我發現我最喜歡的咖啡館上了鎖，店裡已經搬空。水果店成了一堆磚塊，附近，五名警察正在逐戶敲門，他們從昏暗的窗戶向內張望，試圖誘騙還沒有離開的逐戶搬走。
鼓樓一帶的確頹圮，部分原因在於推土機的威脅一直不斷，住戶和店主沒有太多動力投資維護。但在附近，拆遷的威脅沒有那麼緊迫的其他胡同里，有個性的 咖啡館開業了，此外還有雞尾酒吧、餐館和精品酒店。這個區域正在變得越來越上檔次，不過這也有消極的一面，如提高房租、擠走本地住戶。這些變化是零敲碎打 地發生的，因而這塊區域仍然保留着自身的魅力，吸引着遊客。
這種方式比政府自上而下的發展好多了，眾多複製的歷史街道像迪士尼樂園(Disneyland)一樣。前門大街曾經是一個很有名的購物區，被拆毀後 於2008年重新開放。如今的前門大街上充斥着仿造的晚清風格門臉，還有一棵人工的樹和一輛仿造的有軌電車。前不久，鼓樓前那條路上的胡同都被拆了，經過 重建後，進駐了包括肯德基和咖世家(Costa Coffee)在內的一些店鋪。
儘管這座城市在保護那些最富盛名的地標性建築時還算謹慎，比如鼓樓和故宮，但它卻不把胡同里的無序生活看做是寶貴的文化遺產。迎合國內遊客，就意味着要加大力度修建熠熠生輝的假建築，而不是維護原汁原味的破舊建築。
天安門附近有一個歷史悠久的社區，叫大柵欄。在這裡，市政府正在對促進開發的其他辦法進行實驗。而在鼓樓，正如在老北京的大部分地區一樣，為時已晚。北京有3000條胡同，其中的三分之二都已經被拆毀了。然而，如果政府採取得當的政策，情況本會有所不同。
如今，鼓樓每天仍然會為遊客敲鼓。但在過去幾周里，在與鼓樓毗鄰的那個廣場，卻有另一種聲音隆隆作響，大鎚正在砸倒周圍的建築。
這最後並未成為現實。然而在2012年底，政府張貼出了新的通知，要求當地的商戶和居民在2月24日前搬離。我的家距離廣場隔了一條胡同，因而幸免於難，然而按計劃，數十座院落將被拆毀。許多住戶已經離開了，留下來的則要求得到更多的補償。
政府最新的計劃是，將廣場恢復到本來的樣貌，就像18世紀的清朝地圖裡繪製的那樣。這塊區域現在蕪雜地排列着各個時期的建築，一些胡同的歷史可以追溯到13世紀，許多建築則只有幾十年的歷史。
更大的可能性是，政府的這一舉動是出於商業目的。鼓樓所在的區域是黃金地段，位於中國首都的核心地帶。在居民離開後，官方就能收回土地，通過出售或批租獲取巨大的收益。官方也希望產生更多的旅遊業收入。通過拓寬廣場周邊狹窄的道路，開發商還能增加車流量，尤其是旅遊巴士。
我的一些鄰居對此表示出了樂見其成的態度。他們說，這片房屋破落的雜院也該拆除了。有時，一座院落里要擠下九戶人，而且有的房屋沒有供暖或下水管道。對他們來說，保存歷史遺迹是一件奢侈的事，政府給予的拆遷補償也很誘人，每平方英尺660美元，政府還在市郊提供一套公寓。
但在劉進民（音譯）看來並非如此。他年近花甲，是一位退休的武術運動員。他就出生在鼓樓附近的一條胡同里，現在住在另一條能看到鐘樓的胡同里，其景 觀令人印象深刻。在這裡，他為旅遊團提供午餐。為了讓他搬走，政府給出的條件是乘坐公交車一個半小時才能到達的，四環外的高層公寓。那裡離岳父常去的醫 院、兒子們就讀的體校、門外他和朋友們聚起來打麻將的地方都很遠。
劉進民認為，毀掉胡同，就意味着毀掉老北京生活的肌理。幾周前他對我說，“每家每戶都有自己的故事。這些普通人離開了，和他們並存的文化也就離開了。”劉進民哪兒也不去，他說他曾因為抗議拆除自己居住的上一處院落，坐過兩個月牢。舊院子最後還是被拆掉了。
過去幾周，推土機已經開始在鼓樓區域大舉開動。在最近一個周三的下午，我發現我最喜歡的咖啡館上了鎖，店裡已經搬空。水果店成了一堆磚塊，附近，五名警察正在逐戶敲門，他們從昏暗的窗戶向內張望，試圖誘騙還沒有離開的逐戶搬走。
鼓樓一帶的確頹圮，部分原因在於推土機的威脅一直不斷，住戶和店主沒有太多動力投資維護。但在附近，拆遷的威脅沒有那麼緊迫的其他胡同里，有個性的 咖啡館開業了，此外還有雞尾酒吧、餐館和精品酒店。這個區域正在變得越來越上檔次，不過這也有消極的一面，如提高房租、擠走本地住戶。這些變化是零敲碎打 地發生的，因而這塊區域仍然保留着自身的魅力，吸引着遊客。
這種方式比政府自上而下的發展好多了，眾多複製的歷史街道像迪士尼樂園(Disneyland)一樣。前門大街曾經是一個很有名的購物區，被拆毀後 於2008年重新開放。如今的前門大街上充斥着仿造的晚清風格門臉，還有一棵人工的樹和一輛仿造的有軌電車。前不久，鼓樓前那條路上的胡同都被拆了，經過 重建後，進駐了包括肯德基和咖世家(Costa Coffee)在內的一些店鋪。
儘管這座城市在保護那些最富盛名的地標性建築時還算謹慎，比如鼓樓和故宮，但它卻不把胡同里的無序生活看做是寶貴的文化遺產。迎合國內遊客，就意味着要加大力度修建熠熠生輝的假建築，而不是維護原汁原味的破舊建築。
天安門附近有一個歷史悠久的社區，叫大柵欄。在這裡，市政府正在對促進開發的其他辦法進行實驗。而在鼓樓，正如在老北京的大部分地區一樣，為時已晚。北京有3000條胡同，其中的三分之二都已經被拆毀了。然而，如果政府採取得當的政策，情況本會有所不同。
克萊麗莎·塞巴格·蒙蒂菲奧里(Clarissa Sebag-Montefiore)是《TimeOut》北京雜誌社的編輯。
翻譯：陳亦亭
BEIJING — My courtyard home in the heart of old Beijing has a view of the Drum Tower, which for centuries helped citizens keep track of the time.
The tower still rolls its drums daily for tourists. But over the past few weeks a different rumbling could be heard in the public square where it stands: the sound of sledgehammers knocking down surrounding buildings.
For years, the government has proposed leveling the zone around the Drum Tower and the neighboring Bell Tower, known in Chinese as Gulou and Zhonglou, respectively. In 2010, local media reported that except for the two towers, the area, a maze of snaking hutong alleyways and ramshackle courtyard homes, would be demolished to make way for a new “Beijing Time Cultural City” and underground mall.
That did not come to pass. But in late 2012, the government posted new notices ordering local businesses and residents to vacate by Feb. 24. My home, which is one hutong down from the square, will be spared, but dozens are slated for destruction. Many residents have already left; those who have stayed are demanding more compensation.
The government’s latest plan is to restore the square to its original appearance, as laid out on 18th-century Qing Dynasty maps. The neighborhood is currently a mishmash of architectural eras: While some of the hutongs themselves date back to the 13th century, many of the buildings are only a few decades old.
More likely, the government’s objective is commercial. Gulou, as this neighborhood also is called, is prime real estate, located smack in the center of China’s capital. After its residents leave, the authorities will be able to reclaim the land and sell it or rent it out for vast profits. They are also hoping to generate more tourism. By widening the narrow roads around the square, developers can increase the number of vehicles — crucially, tour buses — passing through.
A few of my neighbors are happy to see this happen. It is about time, they say, that this scruffy slum is torn down. As many as nine families sometimes live around a single courtyard, often without heating or plumbing. For them, historic preservation is a luxury and the government’s compensation offer for vacating — about $660 per square foot and a state-provided apartment on the city’s outskirts — is appealing.
But not for Liu Jinmin. Liu, a retired martial artist in his late 50s, was born in a hutong near Gulou. He now lives in another one with a dramatic view of the stone Bell Tower, where he hosts tourist groups for lunch. In exchange for moving out, Liu has been offered a high-rise apartment an hour and a half away by bus, beyond the Fourth Ring Road — far from the hospital his elderly father visits, the sports school his sons attend and the spot, right outside his door, where his friends gather to play mahjong.
Liu believes that destroying the hutongs means destroying the fabric of old Beijing life. “Every household has its stories. Once ordinary people leave, the culture that goes with them will leave,” he told me a couple of weeks ago. Liu isn’t going anywhere: He said he had spent two months in prison for protesting the destruction of his previous courtyard home. (It was torn down anyway.)
Bulldozing in Gulou has been underway in earnest over the past few weeks. On a recent Wednesday afternoon, I found my favorite café locked up, its interior gutted. The fruit store had become a heap of bricks. Nearby, five policemen were knocking on doors, peering into darkened windows and trying to cajole inhabitants who had not yet left into evacuating.
Gulou is indeed dilapidated — partly because the constant threat of the bulldozer has given residents and shop owners little incentive to invest in its upkeep. But in other hutongs nearby, where razing is less imminent, funky cafés have opened up, along with cocktail bars, restaurants and boutique hotels. The area is gentrifying, and though that, too, has its downside — like rising rents that push out locals — the changes have been piecemeal, and the neighborhood retains its charms while attracting visitors.
That’s a much better approach than the top-down development by the government, with its Disneyland-like clusters of reproduced historical streets. Qianmen Street, once a famous shopping area, was reopened in 2008 after being demolished. It now boasts faux late Qing Dynasty facades, a concrete tree and a fake tram. Hutongs just down the road from Gulou were recently knocked down and rebuilt to accommodate shops like KFC and Costa Coffee.
If the city is careful to preserve its most famous landmarks, like the Drum Tower and the Forbidden City, it doesn’t look upon the chaotic life of its alleyways as valuable heritage. Catering to domestic tourists means promoting shiny fakery over shabby authenticity.
In a historical neighborhood called Dashilar, near Tiananmen Square, the city government is experimenting with other ways of catalyzing development. In Gulou, as in much of old Beijing, it’s too late for that. Two-thirds of the capital’s 3,000 hutongs have already been demolished. Yet with the right government policies, it could have been a different story.
翻譯：陳亦亭
False Historical Consciousness
March 21, 2013
BEIJING — My courtyard home in the heart of old Beijing has a view of the Drum Tower, which for centuries helped citizens keep track of the time.
The tower still rolls its drums daily for tourists. But over the past few weeks a different rumbling could be heard in the public square where it stands: the sound of sledgehammers knocking down surrounding buildings.
For years, the government has proposed leveling the zone around the Drum Tower and the neighboring Bell Tower, known in Chinese as Gulou and Zhonglou, respectively. In 2010, local media reported that except for the two towers, the area, a maze of snaking hutong alleyways and ramshackle courtyard homes, would be demolished to make way for a new “Beijing Time Cultural City” and underground mall.
That did not come to pass. But in late 2012, the government posted new notices ordering local businesses and residents to vacate by Feb. 24. My home, which is one hutong down from the square, will be spared, but dozens are slated for destruction. Many residents have already left; those who have stayed are demanding more compensation.
The government’s latest plan is to restore the square to its original appearance, as laid out on 18th-century Qing Dynasty maps. The neighborhood is currently a mishmash of architectural eras: While some of the hutongs themselves date back to the 13th century, many of the buildings are only a few decades old.
More likely, the government’s objective is commercial. Gulou, as this neighborhood also is called, is prime real estate, located smack in the center of China’s capital. After its residents leave, the authorities will be able to reclaim the land and sell it or rent it out for vast profits. They are also hoping to generate more tourism. By widening the narrow roads around the square, developers can increase the number of vehicles — crucially, tour buses — passing through.
A few of my neighbors are happy to see this happen. It is about time, they say, that this scruffy slum is torn down. As many as nine families sometimes live around a single courtyard, often without heating or plumbing. For them, historic preservation is a luxury and the government’s compensation offer for vacating — about $660 per square foot and a state-provided apartment on the city’s outskirts — is appealing.
But not for Liu Jinmin. Liu, a retired martial artist in his late 50s, was born in a hutong near Gulou. He now lives in another one with a dramatic view of the stone Bell Tower, where he hosts tourist groups for lunch. In exchange for moving out, Liu has been offered a high-rise apartment an hour and a half away by bus, beyond the Fourth Ring Road — far from the hospital his elderly father visits, the sports school his sons attend and the spot, right outside his door, where his friends gather to play mahjong.
Liu believes that destroying the hutongs means destroying the fabric of old Beijing life. “Every household has its stories. Once ordinary people leave, the culture that goes with them will leave,” he told me a couple of weeks ago. Liu isn’t going anywhere: He said he had spent two months in prison for protesting the destruction of his previous courtyard home. (It was torn down anyway.)
Bulldozing in Gulou has been underway in earnest over the past few weeks. On a recent Wednesday afternoon, I found my favorite café locked up, its interior gutted. The fruit store had become a heap of bricks. Nearby, five policemen were knocking on doors, peering into darkened windows and trying to cajole inhabitants who had not yet left into evacuating.
Gulou is indeed dilapidated — partly because the constant threat of the bulldozer has given residents and shop owners little incentive to invest in its upkeep. But in other hutongs nearby, where razing is less imminent, funky cafés have opened up, along with cocktail bars, restaurants and boutique hotels. The area is gentrifying, and though that, too, has its downside — like rising rents that push out locals — the changes have been piecemeal, and the neighborhood retains its charms while attracting visitors.
That’s a much better approach than the top-down development by the government, with its Disneyland-like clusters of reproduced historical streets. Qianmen Street, once a famous shopping area, was reopened in 2008 after being demolished. It now boasts faux late Qing Dynasty facades, a concrete tree and a fake tram. Hutongs just down the road from Gulou were recently knocked down and rebuilt to accommodate shops like KFC and Costa Coffee.
If the city is careful to preserve its most famous landmarks, like the Drum Tower and the Forbidden City, it doesn’t look upon the chaotic life of its alleyways as valuable heritage. Catering to domestic tourists means promoting shiny fakery over shabby authenticity.
In a historical neighborhood called Dashilar, near Tiananmen Square, the city government is experimenting with other ways of catalyzing development. In Gulou, as in much of old Beijing, it’s too late for that. Two-thirds of the capital’s 3,000 hutongs have already been demolished. Yet with the right government policies, it could have been a different story.
Clarissa Sebag-Montefiore is an editor at Time Out Beijing.
*****
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旅遊
北京的「布魯克林」區——泛鼓樓一帶
報道 2013年03月26日
近些年，為了修路、建高樓，北京的很多老胡同（由一家家小院的院牆形成的小巷）都從城市的版圖上被抹去了，這讓很多保護主義者感到沮喪。保留下來的那些胡同則幸運地保持着庭院生活的魅力，小巷裡有蔬菜攤、烤串攤和小商店，兩側深藏的庭院已經住過好幾代人了。
雍和宮至鐘鼓樓之間的胡同大多躲過了推土機，但是也發生了巨大的變化。這裡除了老一輩人，還有中國的新新人類和外國居民，他們穿着緊身牛仔褲，騎着 “死飛”(fixed-gear)單車，最喜歡光顧地方風味餐館以及供應藍帶啤酒等飲品的酒吧。在北京的這個角落，傳統的胡同沒有淪為大規模發展的犧牲 品，卻被強烈的布魯克林式的氣息所籠罩。
“北京是個很大、很乏味的地方，但是對我來說，鼓樓地區就像沙漠中的綠洲，”22歲的胡曉迪（音譯）這樣說。在鐘鼓樓附近她用這個中文名字。她住在胡同里，儘管她上班需要騎40分鐘單車（或者坐一個小時地鐵）：“每天都是一場探險。”她是2009年開業的Natooke死飛單車店兼雜技（你沒看錯！）用品商店（五道營胡同19-1號；86-10-8402-6925; natooke.com）的目標顧客。附近還有一家單車店兼咖啡店和酒吧，名叫Serk（北新橋三條40-2號；86-134-2647-4634; serk.cc），這家店是6月份開業的，銷售各種單車，從240美元的通勤單車到8000美元的賽車。這兩家店都在城裡和郊區組織騎單車的活動。儘管有霧霾，北京仍是世界上最適合騎單車的城市之一，因為這裡地勢平坦，容易操控。
對於非單車愛好者來說，這裡有很多新餐館。其中“墨西哥卷餐吧”(Taco Bar, thetacobarbeijing@gmail.com) 是8月份開業的，它是個地下餐吧（地址是保密的，你預訂的時候才提供），食物由一名來自得克薩斯州的台灣裔美國大廚烹制。“我們的食物很簡單，”29歲的 店老闆金紅（音譯）說，“我們能使用本地的食材製作出大部分食物，這些食物的味道跟你在墨西哥城吃到的一樣。”菜單上只有幾道菜（幾種軟皮墨西哥卷和幾道 配菜，就着藍帶啤酒、龍舌蘭酒或者桑格里厄汽酒吃下去），只使用少數幾種進口食材。
穿過安定門內大街，在一家烤鴨小店和一家水果店之間，你能找到一家名叫“痴迷牙買加”（Jamaica Me Crazy, 車輦店胡同1號；86-010-6592-1254）的外賣店。它供應吉克烤雞(jerk chicken)、香醬蓋飯、牛尾以及西非荔枝果和咸鱈魚。這家店很快成了年輕人和初來乍到的時尚人士的最愛。往西南走幾條胡同，能找到“北鑼麵包店”（Beiluo Bread Bar, 北鑼鼓巷70A號；86-010-8408-3069），它是9月份開業的。這裡的菜單包括自製麵包、意大利麵食（用本地食材做的）以及胡同里最好的一些咖啡。
“商賈”（Mercante，方磚廠胡同4號；86-010-8402-5098）可以說是城裡最好的意大利餐 館。老闆是36歲的奧馬爾·馬瑟羅里(Omar Maseroli)和他的女友圓圓。圓圓31歲，是北京當地人。“商賈”（店面古雅，有10張桌子）是一年前開業的，供應新鮮的意大利麵食，冷切肉，奶 酪，來自意大利北部雷焦艾米利亞(Reggio Emilia)與帕爾馬的紅酒和乾酪。馬瑟羅里的老家就在意大利北部。
也許胡同里最明顯的變化就是近些年大量湧入的酒吧。“大躍進”（Great Leap，豆角胡同6號；86-010-5717-1399；greatleapbrewing.com）是2010年一個美國僑民開設的釀酒店，它開創了北京精釀啤酒的局面。“毛毛蟲”（Mao Mao Chong，板廠胡同40號；86-138-1035-1522；maomaochongbeijing.com）是胡同里創意雞尾酒的先鋒，它的雞尾酒的特點是有點麻辣，就是加入了能使舌頭髮麻的胡椒。麥吧（Mai Bar，北鑼鼓巷40號；86-138-1125-2641）是一家時髦的酒吧，有小院子，供應傳統和現代的雞尾酒，有兩個冰櫃，裝滿了進口啤酒。
晚上來這裡喝酒的遊客可以在胡同里住下。從鐘鼓樓往東走幾條胡同，有一家迷人的精品酒店，名叫“蘭花”（The Orchid，寶鈔胡同65號；86-010-8404-4818；theorchidbeijing.com），店裡有10間客房。
雍和宮至鐘鼓樓之間的胡同大多躲過了推土機，但是也發生了巨大的變化。這裡除了老一輩人，還有中國的新新人類和外國居民，他們穿着緊身牛仔褲，騎着 “死飛”(fixed-gear)單車，最喜歡光顧地方風味餐館以及供應藍帶啤酒等飲品的酒吧。在北京的這個角落，傳統的胡同沒有淪為大規模發展的犧牲 品，卻被強烈的布魯克林式的氣息所籠罩。
對於非單車愛好者來說，這裡有很多新餐館。其中“墨西哥卷餐吧”(Taco Bar, thetacobarbeijing@gmail.com) 是8月份開業的，它是個地下餐吧（地址是保密的，你預訂的時候才提供），食物由一名來自得克薩斯州的台灣裔美國大廚烹制。“我們的食物很簡單，”29歲的 店老闆金紅（音譯）說，“我們能使用本地的食材製作出大部分食物，這些食物的味道跟你在墨西哥城吃到的一樣。”菜單上只有幾道菜（幾種軟皮墨西哥卷和幾道 配菜，就着藍帶啤酒、龍舌蘭酒或者桑格里厄汽酒吃下去），只使用少數幾種進口食材。
穿過安定門內大街，在一家烤鴨小店和一家水果店之間，你能找到一家名叫“痴迷牙買加”（Jamaica Me Crazy, 車輦店胡同1號；86-010-6592-1254）的外賣店。它供應吉克烤雞(jerk chicken)、香醬蓋飯、牛尾以及西非荔枝果和咸鱈魚。這家店很快成了年輕人和初來乍到的時尚人士的最愛。往西南走幾條胡同，能找到“北鑼麵包店”（Beiluo Bread Bar, 北鑼鼓巷70A號；86-010-8408-3069），它是9月份開業的。這裡的菜單包括自製麵包、意大利麵食（用本地食材做的）以及胡同里最好的一些咖啡。
“商賈”（Mercante，方磚廠胡同4號；86-010-8402-5098）可以說是城裡最好的意大利餐 館。老闆是36歲的奧馬爾·馬瑟羅里(Omar Maseroli)和他的女友圓圓。圓圓31歲，是北京當地人。“商賈”（店面古雅，有10張桌子）是一年前開業的，供應新鮮的意大利麵食，冷切肉，奶 酪，來自意大利北部雷焦艾米利亞(Reggio Emilia)與帕爾馬的紅酒和乾酪。馬瑟羅里的老家就在意大利北部。
也許胡同里最明顯的變化就是近些年大量湧入的酒吧。“大躍進”（Great Leap，豆角胡同6號；86-010-5717-1399；greatleapbrewing.com）是2010年一個美國僑民開設的釀酒店，它開創了北京精釀啤酒的局面。“毛毛蟲”（Mao Mao Chong，板廠胡同40號；86-138-1035-1522；maomaochongbeijing.com）是胡同里創意雞尾酒的先鋒，它的雞尾酒的特點是有點麻辣，就是加入了能使舌頭髮麻的胡椒。麥吧（Mai Bar，北鑼鼓巷40號；86-138-1125-2641）是一家時髦的酒吧，有小院子，供應傳統和現代的雞尾酒，有兩個冰櫃，裝滿了進口啤酒。
晚上來這裡喝酒的遊客可以在胡同里住下。從鐘鼓樓往東走幾條胡同，有一家迷人的精品酒店，名叫“蘭花”（The Orchid，寶鈔胡同65號；86-010-8404-4818；theorchidbeijing.com），店裡有10間客房。
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