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Posts tagged ‘北京 beijing’

A traditional courtyard house.

A church, for training purposes.

A real post office, on the left.

A fake coffee shop next to a real tea shop.

 A fake Carrefour

A real supermarket

 A fake bank.

 An alleyway next to a real print shop.

A consulate for “Country A.” 

A fake government building.

A real police station.


On the edge of town.

My first attempt to enter the Chinese People’s Public Security University at 7 o’clock on a Thursday morning met with abrupt rejection. “This university is not like others,” the sympathetic but inflexible guard smiled. The following Tuesday I returned and through the magic words of a few contacts, fairly waltzed into the vast and well-kept campus, abuzz with the meticulous workings of early evening. We walked along streets with names like “Loyalty Avenue” and “Diligence Avenue” in a self-contained parallel universe populated by young cops and athletes in various groupings and formations breaking apart, flowing through a corner together, founding blue constellations across the immense, dusking Culture Plaza. No trash cans in this world: trash cans mean trash. No holding hands in this world. 

After a review of evening roll call followed by substantial dinner in the cafeteria, we proceeded to a large installation near the heart of the campus, formed of a massive free wall surrounding a model of what appeared to be a European style town center. The traffic lights stood blind and waiting, and through a window above a real dry cleaners came the keening quasi-tunes of karaoke. 

The town was neither completely real nor completely fake. Perhaps this diversifying was to make it more interesting, to create a sense that this dead space was somehow half alive, like a permeable, banal amusement park. But as a training ground for how to tackle situations like traffic control and bank robberies, one could also imagine this mixture of shops for daily necessities and the neighboring empty simulations as furnishing the leitmotif of preparedness for social breakdown even on one’s habitual off-hour trips to commissary.

Passing again outside the wall, we cut across the gigantic sports fields to a low building of studio rooms where extracurricular clubs convened. One of our guides, whose major is in processing foreigners and who loves punk music, had offered to let us watch their brand practice. We were treated to a suite of Chinese and American standards including “Every Breath You Take” by the Police, “Desperado” by the Eagles and “Holiday” by Green Day. 

No irony in this world. Just the shining, armed citizens with their perfect eyesight (mandated to make it through the gate), honing their creative, sexual energies for the republic.


“Say, hey!

Hear the sound of the falling rain
Coming down like an Armageddon flame (Hey!)
The shame
The ones who died without a name

Hear the dogs howling out of key
To a hymn called “Faith and Misery” (Hey!)
And bleed, the company lost the war today

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday

Hear the drum pounding out of time
Another protester has crossed the line (Hey!)
To find, the money’s on the other side

Can I get another Amen? (Amen!)
There’s a flag wrapped around a score of men (Hey!)
A gag, a plastic bag on a monument

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday

(Say, hey!)

(Wait for it!)

“The representative from California has the floor”

Sieg Heil to the president Gasman
Bombs away is your punishment
Pulverize the Eiffel towers
Who criticize your government
Bang bang goes the broken glass and
Kill all the fags that don’t agree
Trials by fire, setting fire
Is not a way that’s meant for me
Just cause (hey, hey, hey), just cause, because we’re outlaws yeah!

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives

This is our lives on holiday”

 (from the album “American Idiot” by Green Day, 2005) 







天窗临时咖啡店/酒吧, 大栅栏燕家胡同2号

具体比赛流程和时间安排稍后公布。更多信息请见新浪微博@北京有机农夫市集 http://weibo.com/farmersmarketbj;和博客http://t.cn/adIcwx



  • 瓜拉松奖:最佳南瓜造型;最坚强丝瓜;最搞怪冬瓜;最美丽葫芦奖。
  • 最红西红柿。
  • 香草盆栽造型大师。
  • 豆你玩奖(豆科种类大比拼)
  • 珍稀品种奖
  • 自由类别(您可以为您家的蔬果设计专门的奖项哦)


  • 经验丰富的专业有机农夫
  • 园艺专家
  • 美食作家
  • 吃货砖家等



  • 参加比赛的蔬果品种和竞技类别
  • 蔬果及其生长环境的照片,尺寸不超过1M
  • 您种菜的地点和环境(阳台上?市内?家门口的院子?还是在郊区租的地?)
  • 蔬果生长的方位(具体到马路、小区或村即可,最好网上地图可以搜索到大致方位)
  • 联系方式(电子邮件、电话;如有微博,请注明)


Are you a city-dweller who grows food (home-grown organic, no chemicals!) in or around your home?
So you think your vegetables are the best in town, huh?
Come and prove your skills at the next Country Fair, happening September 25th in Dashilar!

Urban Growers Competition & Country Fair’s First Anniversary Celebration
at Sky Light pop-up Café, No. 2 Yanjia Hutong

Sign up for the following categories:

  • The Gourd Quadrathlon: Best pumpkin shape; strongest sigua; monster beigua; perfect hulu aesthetic
  • Reddest Tomato Award
  • Potted Herb Arrangement Masters
  • Bean Variety Open
  • Exotic Vegetable Prize
  • Freestyle Entries

Judges will include a combination of esteemed farmers, distinguished gourmets and food writers. A great way to share your knowledge, techniques and even your seeds! Serious fun! Great or strange prizes!

Interested participants please send Country Fair an email <farmersmarketbj at gmail.com> including:

  • What vegetables you will submit
  • A small (1mb maximum) photo of your plant and its location in your home.
  • A short description of your growing location and conditions (where in home, what location)
  • The name of the street where you live
  • Contact information (phone, email, and weibo if applicable)

家作坊的选手 HomeShop’s contenders:

Beigua is indeed a vegetable! 北瓜是一种菜!

Hi Grandpa,

How are you doing?
Far too long since we have spoken.
I just got your new email address by Nina forwarding a message with some nice old pictures you had taken.

I am still over here in Beijing, China. I have lived here almost 3 years, once fall arrives.

Just yesterday, I had a very funny experience. I went to a fake “Jackson Hole” north of Beijing, past the Great Wall. Supposedly, the developers copied the master plans directly from the Wyoming town, and just plotted the whole thing down onto some hilly countryside on the border of Hebei Province (the province surrounding Beijing). As a development including more than 1000 new homes, it’s not finished yet but there are already a few weekend “cowboys” living there.

We were there because of some interest the developers had shown in supporting our organic farmer’s market—but I found it incredibly difficult to get past the innocent and yet eerie surroundings (innocent, because what do they know about Jackson Hole? and so an innocent delight in surfaces; eerie because of such enthusiasm for surfaces—but I suppose the same could be said about the “real” Jackson Hole!).
Most of the wood was just imitation, made of plastic; although our guides claimed the rocks were real, and kept asking me as we toured a house “Is this how you live in America?

After the tour they gave me a cheaply-made bolo necktie with “Jackson Hole” on it.

They couldn’t tell me which house was a copy of Dick Cheney’s.

I thought you would like to see some of these images.
I hope all is well!

Love Michael

Hi Michael

So good to hear from you. I talked to your father yesterday and he told me who or where you were in that group picture that Nina sent to me. I would never have known you with all those whiskers.  Is that Emi beside you?

I am sending you some pictures of Lupine in the Big Horn Mtns taken on July 9, 2011. We had lots of snow in the Mtns this past year so the wild flowers are flourishing. We also made a trip to Jackson so will have to send you a few of those pictures. The pictures you sent about building a replica of Jackson Hole are interesting. Cheney, I believe, is still in the east. Think he has to be pretty close to medical assistance and he isn’t that popular.

I thought that was fun looking back at pictures when you and Nina were little. I thought she may have been interested.

Arleen and I are doing quite well. We take trips into the mountains quite a lot. She is legally blind with macular degeneration but she does very well. She has had quite as few sick days since you and Emi were here.

Lets keep in touch Michael, it’s so good to hear from you.

Love, Grandpa Eddy

(Note: Grandpa Robert Eddy lives in a town called Cody, Wyoming, named for the 19th century showman “Buffalo” Bill Cody, and situated at the eastern gate of Yellowstone National Park. Last time we visited Grandpa Eddy, he took us south to the Grand Teton mountain range and into a valley called Jackson Hole, where the small elite ski town of Jackson was home to ex-US Vice President Dick Cheney and John Walton (son and heir of Wal-Mart founder), and where nobody looks twice when Sting, Sandra Bullock, or Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston whiz down Dick’s Ditch on snowboards.”)

I have to be honest, leaving Beijing and entering another climate, one with bees, dramatic cloud formations carried on cool breezes, and sunsets, it rather briskly plunges into an abstract idea. Of course, it doesn’t help that the transitions are managed within the privations of air travel and its dreamy borders. Something of the vague shadow of recall remains even after landing elsewhere (and even after returning, in this case to Beijing). We hear back from our friends and collaborators, in those bursts of attention, when they are not engulfed in the gentle rustling of the sprawling pumpkin vine, a lost bank card, jobs, and all immediate and present things, and isn’t it amazing how clothes and cups air-dry? But somehow those things that actually seem to make an idea or sentiment make sense—the lick of moisture, the depth of layers of sounds, synesthesia—fail to reach us. I have for a long time harboured a feeling that appeals to presence magicalize ordinary things, placing sense beyond explanation and language, glossing over and rendering inaccessible the potential, tacit domination of charisma, taste, identity. I wouldn’t be the first to muse on the values of absence, chance and indifference as contributing to a democratic aesthetic (which some might place in a properly Modernist and therefore outmoded tradition). But I have to acknowledge never having been able to fully account for why things fizzle at a distance.

I gave a talk while I was away, in an art centre in Montréal. I tried to present my experiences so far living in China, including projects and jobs I had done, the work of friends, and a general description of what living in Beijing and practicing art here is like. This was a format I had never tried in an artist-talk. My throat became dry because I talked so much, I worried I appeared like some kind of Lonely Planet ambassador, and feared my monotone delivery was driving some people’s eyelids to flutter druggedly. Those may be my paranoid projections on a listenership (and the feedback was positive, seemingly), but there were other creeping feelings behind the performance anxiety. The question a friend had asked a few days prior hovered somewhere in my descriptions, why do you live there? (Well, I ended up there rather *indifferently*…) I remarked on the visceral qualities of the urban makeup that make life exciting and challenging, and the state-in-formation that characterizes the place and people, which I announced might lead any of us to question the unfinished nature of our respective origins and positions. The motivations straddle all divisions, but in the context, I was referring to art. I went on: If there is no existing measure for how to gauge my success, neither based on the intensity of inclusion in the local art world, nor on my entrepreneurial exploits, nor rate of publication, nor institutional power, freedom, stability of life… then the ensuing parallel could surely be drawn that those in Canada who I was addressing, or my peers in Germany, the USA or anywhere, certainly had no such measures either. If success had been globalized, so had irrelevance, so had decadence.
Perhaps I’d better mention other examples before this turns into an analysis session about my particular case of ressentiment (and it’s a thin line whenever a self-reflexive voice is assumed). Meeting with some friends in my hometown Halifax about a project involving portable galleries, I sat back and watched a fascinating discussion unfold among the locals (I no longer the local) on the limits of the Canadian artist-run centre system. It seemed from other such conversations in different towns that this is something of a national hang-up, as particular players position themselves toward international networks and markets, and others solidify institutionalization, and most of them struggle.
We could argue the responsible use of a commercial system and the apparent independence it brings (not only in China) trumps the legalistic-bureaucratic state funding systems, which in any case support and are supported by the galleries; just as we could argue the cleverest position to be in is that of the court eunuch. For a little while this fancy played in my head when visiting old friends from Europe or Canada, as their practices circulated them around the whitish public art spaces, drinking good liquors, getting high marks on risk assessment from facilities management; as all the young poke around the daydream, what’s the best city in which to live? The given provides a host of calculated answers—including perhaps the narrative I seem to be advancing (here and in my Montréal talk—for the sake of the audience, of course): because I am nowhere I am everywhere, I am a representative.
But it is not a matter of a facile choice, and the stinging truth is that it’s not such an interesting debate, still assuming the tone of a report back, to one side or another. So what is interesting? What is particular, beyond our obsessions with conventions, power and our whatever singularity?

These questions connect back to one of those that lingered for me after our Continental Drift, that of practice (conveniently, practice entitles a moody and self-absorbed preamble, or it is sterile, doctorific.) In discussions on the approach for people who were not on it, it was stated that the experiment—or experience, as some emphasized—of Continental Drift would be shared and made public through subsequent works, texts and water-cooler anecdotes, the affects that feed into practice. We all gently contemplated what forms, what connections the latent and the stated alike would develop over time; would there be a future?
But a drift is not only a means to gathering materials for our practices, otherwise it would be a research trip, properly speaking; in its carrying out, it is meant as a practice in itself, one by which we expose our moods and personal dramas to various stimuli (reality) and to each other’s common experience. There are no objectively safe ways to go about it, echoing the ethical dilemmas of art mentioned above: one cannot prove one is not a conventional tourist, but neither should that stop one from going. As a group coming from different backgrounds, with different interests at stake, our interactions ranged from particular to common, from encountering each other, to discussing the massive changes apparent in China, which we are all somehow part of. Regarding this latter issue, given the topical relevance of globalization, even though I live here, I might have expected to take in visions of the forces of manufacture and development that drive global trade. Maybe they did in a way, but not how I anticipated; in Beijing, for instance, we observed the organization of space not according to the establishment of heavy industry, but according to priorities of culturalization: a model for the management of society, as Brian put it to me on our first day of meandering. This could be seen around Wuhan’s East Lake as well, as a natural resource was transformed into a capital-intensive development without passing through a significantly industrialized prior state; the post-industrial imaginary also permeated descriptions of the agrarian-becoming-peach-themed fantasyland in Lijiang. Maybe these correspondences aren’t surprising, as shifts in Chinese culture are feverishly tracked by foreign and domestic marketeers, and this is the face that asks to be seen anyhow. We did catch glimpses of the underside of this narrative, the chaotic, organic and banal, the preferential and the securitized, and the devastated. As empirically subjective as these firsthand experiences are, they are not the motifs that stick with me the most, that would come back most directly to ideas on practice, though the “method” itself is empowering, and must be repeated and improved upon. Rather, the most striking momentum on our Continental Drift was that of recognizing peers, whether they are in Hubei, Yunnan, New York, the Midwest, Beijing, or wherever. The point here was not in finally being acknowledged or something tragic like that, but simply in seeing that others have similar concerns and are there, doing it their way, whether or not the whole enterprise entails a sense of failure, a possibility we floated in our final meetings. Late one night, Claire Pentecost invoked the term “networks of validation,” which in my mind rescues the idea of the network from the hegemonic necessity that compels us all, all of the time. This doesn’t mean an alternative network that we can navigate for success; nor is it even a network for really breaking the distance between us, like a guarantee of a holier, democratic variation of presence. The world will hardly allow that, at least in this way. It is more useful as an ethical construction by which our practice sees itself, sees its potential expansion, as a constellation of knowledge, faculties and passions; sees its faults, its different faces, and that doesn’t romanticize its incongruity with its context or its powerlessness; and by which, perhaps, the idea of a common project is resuscitated. My own investments in such a construction are in figuring out how the paragraph above, on the vicissitudes of art practice at home and abroad, can be turned into something more interesting, as promised; which means not simply reflecting the inside/outside nature of an art world whose ambivalence won’t wash away; which means producing meaning tangled up with a messy world, with the tools I know how to use; which means conferring gravity to abstract ideas and places; which means having a screwdriver thrown at me, told to hot-wire a car, to go on a road trip.
What would you do?

Che Fei and CU OFFICE’s trans-community: Jin Street Model

Trans-Community space usage distribution. 金街模型空间利用展示。


Gentrification and the Everyday

By Edward Sanderson

Part 3: Everyday Life

Occupation, as I talked about in the previous part, is an expression of the Everyday and an important part of Everyday Life involves the active occupation of space, for example in the way the HomeShop has come to occupy its new site. The consequences of occupation threaten institutionalisation, which may lead to gentrification in its imposition of permanent change on an area.
On the other hand institutionalisation protects HomeShop’s work from over-ephemerality or instant dispersal. The positive side of this comes from an example of activism, as Isaac Mao points out:

“… In China, many dissidents and activists are opening up their personal information. Why? Because previously they just wanted to close it down to protect themselves without being tracked by the government. Someone might want people to know his position so he can do things secretly. But now many are opening up this information because they see the social power. Once they’ve opened up their position, home phone, and travel plans, more people in the cloud know where they are at the same time as the authorities. He is protected even as he is tracked.”

提醒大家在北京! 还有13天跟北京市“提意见”! Reminder for everyone in Beijing! Only 13 days left to “voice your opinions”!

above: a few notes on the sidelines from 吴以楠 Sunday, 欧阳 Xiao and me… To be non-anonymous in a country of billions sounds like implication, another cruising for a bruising. Cynicism reigns, who wants to speak?  中文公告: http://zhengwu.beijing.gov.cn/gzdt/gggs/t1134433.htm
吴以楠(右边)和植村絵美(左边)在家作坊门口制作“种子炸弹”,老二(中间)过来帮忙做质量控制。WU Yinan (at right) and Emi UEMURA (left) make seed bombs in front of HomeShop, Brother ZHENG (center) drops by to do quality control.



The following text is written by friend and neighbour of HomeShop WU Yinan. She was born and raised at Xiaojingchang Hutong number 6, then went away for a period to Ju’er Hutong before finally joining the great number of old Beijingers to move out of the hutongs and into a multi-story flat. After graduating from university in Huaibei she moved back to Beijing, and at the beginning of this year she renovated the old family home and came back to live there with her boyfriend. We recently found out that she maintains a blog, from which we will co-feature some of her thoughts and writings here.

In light of all the recent gossip, foreign media and NGO hype about pending demolition of parts of the Gulou area to make way for subway lines, a time museum and shopping centres galore, perhaps what we should remember is that a lot of this area is already relatively new making way for the even newer. This is of course not a form of tacit consent, but these makeovers have been happening all along. Yinan’s post is titled “First make a ruin of Houhai and then of Nanluoguxiang, Let me see what else you all will make a ruin of next”, and expresses a lot of her anger about the reek of ‘xiaozi‘ (kind of like a youthful, big-spending hipster type) that has blown into Beijing since the days of her childhood spent around Gulou and Houhai.


我出生在鼓楼东大街的一个小院儿里,童年的记忆离不开后海的轻风,地安门的繁华,钟鼓楼的端庄,锣鼓巷的素朴,后来搬到了簋街旁边,眼睁睁的看着这个地方 从一个狭窄拥挤的大排档一条街变成了一个更为拥挤油腻的饭馆街。可以说,我从小就围绕着这些现在被炒作的一塌糊涂的地方生活,深知其中变化无穷。

小时候的后海很安静,微风轻抚着柳树带来阵阵凉爽,微波粼粼的湖面让人心旷神怡,早上有老人在湖边练太极,舞剑,一群老头老太太在湖里游泳,春夏秋冬,四 季从不中断。我夏天的记忆悠闲地漂浮在后海的鸭子船里,冬天的记忆则穿着冰鞋徜徉在厚厚的什刹海冰面上,最后一个记忆的碎片就是和我最好的知心朋友坐在湖 边的石头上,一边吹着风欣赏湖面上美丽的景色,一边在柳条声的伴奏下吃着后面超市里买的凉面,那惬意劲就别提了……在外地上了四年大学回来后竟然发现后海 再也不是我儿时的那个天堂了,伴随着叮咣震耳的音乐,四射至天空的霓虹和激光束,后海貌似忽然化作一个黄头发蓝眼睛白皮肤的顽皮小孩对我说“骨德儿白”。 虽然曾经和住在这里的朋友一起寻觅过童年的印记,但是无论如何我似乎已不再认识你了……

行至今日,我搬回了鼓楼的老房子居住,很少有去逛后海的冲动,后海已经变成了城市人,外地人,外国人的后花园,可以任意的放肆,交友,娱乐,我不反对清静 之地变得喧闹不堪,只是经常可怜住在附近院子里的老头老太太们,他们再也没有清静自在的日子过了,真怕他们因此而折寿;也怕那些无耻的商人窥视着这些在此 过了一辈子的老头老太太们毕生守护的房子,想用来投机投资而让他们离开他们钟爱了一辈子的老地方。

从后海出来一定要走烟袋斜街,烟袋斜街在我小时候的印象里就是个澡堂子,里面有个华清池,每次去都很喜欢那里休息的小房间,用木板隔断,有两个床位,中间 有个桌子,桌子上还有茶杯和袋泡茶。晚上的时候澡堂会出租给住宿的人,我见过很多人涌进来搭床铺的场面,可能是挺便宜吧,住宿的人那么多……







南锣鼓巷乃是北京城平常的不能再平常,普通的不能再普通的一条胡同,只因为他串起来周边许多纵向的胡同,而这些纵向的胡同里有个把官宦和名人的府邸,就突 然这么炒热起来了……北京东西城的胡同名人官宦的府邸多了去了,这对我这个从小长在北京的人已经是稀松平常的事,那会北京城就到二环路,而且东富西贵,除 去紫禁城不能住,可不都住东西城的胡同里么!我常常怀疑,是不是这些什刹海后花园的人发现光逛个后花园不过瘾,才在旁边又弄出个南锣鼓巷来消遣。

我不反对南锣鼓巷作为一个文化和历史遗迹的标的而得以繁荣,恶心就恶心在,压根南锣鼓巷的繁华就和老北京的文化不搭界!你到酒吧里说来瓶小二,人家说我们 这里只有科罗娜,你说来碗炸酱面,人家说我们这只有三明治……等等等,还有新疆烤串,四川风味,意大利披萨,水果沙拉,青海酸奶,印度首饰,总而言之就是 没老北京味儿!文化没看到,光看到酒吧了。三五成群的老外混搭着满嘴洋文的中国小资,喝着啤酒调侃着人生。问老外你敢不敢跟我来个二窝头,老外就“no no”,就算不知道要入乡随俗,也不能让乡随了老外,临了走到尽头还建了个“贞节牌坊”上书“南锣鼓巷”,形状与“国子监”一般,一看就是个新玩意儿,什 么时候南锣鼓巷需要牌坊了,搞笑!

想起前两年去云南旅游的时候丽江古城的杯具,在北京小资心里那是个神圣的去处,如此忧愁多情之流,到了才发现城的建筑很美,但是说白了就是个酒吧纪念品饭 馆之城,同行的假小资们煞有介事的在酒吧里忧郁的品尝着美酒咖啡,表情既享受又有几分沉醉,有的还付费点一段唱走掉的音乐来彰显自己的品味,全部都是繁华 的浮躁,几乎淹没了丽江古城原始的素朴,就快要找不到曾经痕迹了,而如今的南锣鼓巷,后海,颇有步丽江后尘的意味,逐步走向小资心目中的忧愁多情交友品味 之地,外国人心目中的第二个“故乡”。




— 转载自《人生就像绕口令》,转载于2010年6月1日 / First published 1 June 2010 by WU Yinan at Life is Like a Tongue Twister.

Park (in which the sounds we make in public are both expressions of ideology and good for the body)

Calling (in which the sound of advertisement forms a fabric that envelops us)

Dongfanghong 1 (in which the sound of the bell at the Beijing Railway Station reveals a story of our relation to the voice of authority)

Dongfanghong 2 (in which the voice of authority is found to be composed of echoes)

Music (in which we are introduced to the workers who live on their downtown work site)

The audio drama “Sound Research of China” (Michael EDDY, KANG He, 李增辉 LI Zenghui) is composed of episodes from ongoing research into the makeup of the sound environment of Beijing. The process consisted of many outings as a group into the streets of Beijing and following and questioning the sounds that we identified as “characteristic” of life in China, and of the relation of sound to life there. Working as a unit of three “specialists,” each of our backgrounds informing our manner of recording, analyzing and editing the source materials, we pursued the sounds in various ways to see how they might compose their own narrative and drama.

“Sound Research of China” was a component of Vitamin Creative Space‘s participation and resulting in the installation in the “Structural Integrity” project in Melbourne’s Meat Market for the Next Wave festival. For further documentation, please check here.

After a prolonged research and analysis period highly implicated by HomeShop’s recent search for a new space, our newfound expertise has led to the temporary return of the current space at Xiaojingchang hutong to its former status as real estate agency (pre-2007 era). We are pleased to inform you that we are taking up a new role as an offshoot office of the well-known chain 我爱我家 Wo Ai Wo Jia (“I Love My Home”), henceforth named 我爱你家 Wo Ai Ni Jia (“I Love Your Home”). If you are looking for a new house or office within Beijing’s old city centre or are merely interested to learn more about the real estate market and private life in the capital, our multilingual agents can offer free advice and direction regarding a selection of some of Beijing’s hottest properties. We do not take commission, and while our services may be limited, our knowledge is vast. Please stop by HomeShop or telephone to make an appointment. You may reach us at any time by mobile phone at 137 1855 6089.

Thank you! We are here waiting for your trust!

“我爱你家 I Love Your Home” is a project of 何颖雅 Elaine W. HO and Fotini LAZARIDOU-HATZIGOGA for HomeShop. On view from 24 May 2010.



“我爱你家 I Love Your Home” 是由何颖雅 Elaine W. HO 及 Fotini LAZARIDOU-HATZIGOGA为家作坊做的一个项目。从2010年5月24日开始。