Have you tried everything in Beijing?

The soybean paste comes unmixed — stir hard before the first bite or it clumps at the bottom.

Black gelatinous yolk, ammonia-forward smell, completely normal to the guy next to you.

Candied hawthorn berries in a hard sugar shell, sold from carts near any hutong entrance.

Bring a folding stool like the locals and wait for the golden roofs to light up at dusk.

Beijing's weekend 'ghost market' for Mao-era relics and jade — arrive by 6 AM or the best stuff is gone.

Skip the neon bar strip on the west side and find the fishermen and courting couples on the east bank instead.

Causing a local to lose 'face' (mianzi) stings far worse here than a blunt correction would at home.

Nobody asks — younger riders just stand, it's reflexive here, not a special favor.

Temple of Heaven and Ritan Park fill with guangchang wu around 7 PM — jumping in as a stranger is welcomed.

Elderly men crowd folding tables most afternoons — watch quietly, playing needs an invitation.

Public tables sit in nearly every park — Beijingers of all ages play, and joining in is expected, not awkward.