Beijing A to Z City Guide

In traditional Chinese, ,' is written as }', composed of 3' (ear) and ‹' (king), suggesting that the ear receives what is most important. Beijing-born and beloved abroad, Faye Wongs voice is precisely the kind of information we seek particularly her rendition of The Cranberries Dream Person. On a different note, Beijing Rocks follows a group of aspiring musicians navigating the trials of making it big, offering a grittier soundtrack to the city. If you are in town, Lantern Club especially during techno diva Lis sets will leave your lobes positively ringing. For something more sedate, follow the sound of the two-string fiddle, the jinghu, a Beijing invention that has been resonating a while, heard in Beijing Opera.

Would we be drinking our house-blend spearmint and liquorice root tea (you must try it) in Aesop stores from Berlin to Beijing, were it not for China? Possibly not. Prior to Chinese intervention some centuries ago, tea was eaten rather than drunk. As the story goes, Bodhidharma removed his eyelids in order to remain awake during meditation; where they fell, the first tea plants grew. Puer tea is aged and fermented a mountain in the mouth arriving compressed into discs and once used as currency. Yet it is oolong that commands particular reverence. They say good oolong has a good echo: it stays with you long after it is finished. Tea was and still is consumed for medicinal purposes, anti-oxidant efficacy chief among its many benefits. But for us, enjoyment sits firmly at the top of the list.

Juhani PallasmaasThe Eyes of the Skin a steady syllabus for new Aesopians since 1996 prophetically spoke to the ocular-centric world in which we now live. Today, eyes tend to consume rather than perceive. Enter: smell. At Aesop, our stores, offices, and acolytes are often smelled before they are seen. So it made perfect sense that when designing our first Beijing store in collaboration with atelier suasua, the entire East Pavilion would be dedicated to a Sensorium: an invention of our midnight musings that invites an intimate encounter with fragrance. Occupying a traditional siheyuan courtyard residence in Beijings Wangfujing district, it is a space worth sniffing out.

This section is best read while Brian Enos Kite Stories (1999) hovers quietly in the background perhaps the finest way of seeking new heights while keeping ones feet firmly on the ground, second only to the real thing: kites. Invented over 2,000 years ago, kites were originally used as a means of communication, particularly for military purposes. There are four steps to making a kite; the fourth being to fly it. Y+ requires wood carving and bending over an alcohol lamp; Èr, the application of paper; Sn, the design; and Sì then youre as good as gone with the wind. Should aviation engineering not appeal, one can acquire a fine exemplar from Three Stone Kites, run by fourth-generation kite makers, a strings length from the Forbidden City.

Whether unable to pay a visit to the city soon, or settled in Beijing during one of its harsh winters when 8°C passes as warm the city may also be explored via the screen. So pour a pot of oolong and go couch surfing: Liu Jiayins Oxhide (Parts I and II), intimate portrayals of the filmmakers family and apartment centred around dumpling-making, are tender and quietly revelatory. Farewell My Concubine is essential viewing and best paired with tissues, to collect ones tears. So too are the films of Jia Zhangke, a graduate of the Literature Department at the Beijing Film Academy and much beloved in our fragrant halls: Ash Is Purest White and A Touch of Sin among them. Moving elsewhere, but with equal intimacy, A Chinese Tongue is a documentarian Hors D'oeuvre by Laurie Wen, who invites women she meets in Chinese grocery stores to cook and eat with her.