Qianmen
Last night, I arrived in Beijing from Nanjing and stayed at a courtyard hotel near Qianmen, an area I’ve never known intimately. As I emerged from the subway station, the two magnificent towers—the Gate Tower and the Arrow Tower—rose before me, bathed in golden light. For a moment I stood still, taking in their quiet grandeur. What a fabulous city Beijing is, I thought, where I spent nearly two decades of my life, full of stories and seasons.
Qianmen, meaning “Front Gate,” has stood for centuries as the southern threshold of the Inner City, one of the capital’s most enduring landmarks. First built in the early 15th century as part of the capital’s vast city wall system, the towers once guarded the heart of the empire, serving both ceremonial and military purposes.
I used to go to Capital M, a refined restaurant nearby, partly for the incredible food and partly for its view of the towers. Another small pilgrimage into memory.
After dinner with a friend, I had a romantic impulse to stroll across Tiananmen Square, as I often did on quiet nights long ago. But the square was sealed off; visitors must now register at least a week in advance. Oh dear. The city has changed, the rules have multiplied. It made me feel even more nostalgia.