Showing posts tagged as: Dongbei
Heihe and Blagoveshchensk, a “Twin Cities” Odd Couple on the Sino-Russian Border
Image: Moscow Times
The greater part of the boundary separating Russia from China comprises a 2,824-kilometre river – known as the Amur to the Russians on the northern side and Heilongjiang (meaning “Black Dragon River”) to the Chinese on the southern side. At the river’s confluence with the Zeya River is a curious juxtaposition of urban settlements on the border of the two great Asian powers – Heihe and Blagoveshchensk, facing each other across the river, two small cities similar in size and separated physically by less than 600 metres of water.
Image: russiatrek.org
Heihe, a prefecture-level city within the province of Heilongjiang, only came into existence as recently as 1980 (an earlier town called Aihui or Aigun was located in the vicinity, some 30 km south of contemporary Heihe). Blagoveshchensk«𝓪» is the capital of the Amur (Amurskaya) Oblast in Russia’s Far East with a controversial back story. Cossacks built the first Russian outposts here (then called “Ust-Zeysky”) in the 1850s, on land that under the terms of the 1689 Treaty of Nerchinsk between the Russian tsar and the Qing Dynasty that Russians had been evicted from. Blagoveshchensk (or ‘Blago’ as it is often shortened to) came into being after an opportunist Russia forced China to acquiesce to the inequitable Treaty of Aigun in 1858…the Qings lost over 600,000 sq km of territory in Manchuria including the Amur River site of the future city of Blagoveshchensk. The resentment felt by the Chinese at the unjust 1858 Treaty was magnified in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion when the Russian authorities in Blagoveshchensk forcibly deported the city’s Chinese community resulting in around 5,000 of the fleeing refugees losing their lives in a mass killing. In modern times Heihe/Blagoveshchensk has been the scene of violent confrontation between Soviet and Chinese troops. In 1969 the two countries fought a battle close to the ”twin cities” over a disputed island in the Amur/Heilong river – at the cost of hundreds of casualties.
Amur/Heilong River (Source: worldatlas.com)
By 1989—the year in which the border between the USSR and China reopened after being closed for much of the century—Heihe was still a small village. During the following thirty years Heihe has witnessed the rapid growth and accelerated development associated with many Chinese cities (eg, Shenzhen), a flurry of commercial activity with mercantilist purpose, a flourishing of modern high-rise apartments and even some greening of the city. Conversely Blagoveshchensk, older and more settled, looks “sedate and almost stagnant” by comparison…seemingly resistant to the modernising example of its nearby neighbour. [Franck Billé, ‘Surface Modernities: Open-Air Markets, Containment and Vertilcality in Two Border Towns of Russia and China’, Economic Sociology, 15(2), March 2014, www.repository.cam.au.uk].
Blagoveshchensk tertiary institution
Heihe and Blagoveshchensk over contemporary times have evolved diametrically different urban landscapes. Blagoveshchensk’s taste in architecture tends toward a kind of “horizontal functionalism” (Franck Billé). It’s structures which includes some classical public buildings as well as surviving grey concrete remnants of the Soviet era adhere mostly to a flat, horizontal form«𝓫». Urban planning is faithful to a rigid grid format and retains a “Roman fort” quality. Heihe, on the other hand, in its modernisation projects the iconic vertical model of the Chinese mega cities to its south (high-rise on overdrive, modern shopping malls, etc). Structures like the large Heihe International Hotel sit jutting out prominently on the riverside promenade (Billé).
Heihe lightshow (Photo: Maxim Shemetov/Reuters)
Heihe’s vibrant exterior can be viewed as a pearl set against the beigeness of Blagoveshchensk’s static oyster. At night Heihe’s waterfront becomes a glittery cornucopia, a spectacular colour light show advertising itself to the other side. The stark contrast between the two towns is reminiscent of a similar chiaroscuroesque nocturnal effect observable with the northern Chinese city of Dandong and its barren ill-lit North Korean neighbour 500 metres across the Yalu, Sinuiju. While Heihe’s edge sparkles, Blagoveshchensk’s riverbank remains largely underdeveloped. Notwithstanding the drabness of Blagoveshchensk many of its citizens remain unimpressed by their showy twin’s persona. Blagoveshchensk skeptics describe Heihe as a “Potemkin village”, a flash exterior hiding a poor and dirty reality below the surface, and the evening light show a transparent bait to lure Russian visitors and their roubles from across the Amur [Joshua Kucera, ‘Don’t Call Call Them Twin cities’, Slate, 28-Dec-2009, www.slate.com].
Sculpture of a kiprichi (Source: Indian Defence Forum)
༄࿓༄ The proximity between the Russian and Chinese towns has led to patterns of interaction, especially after the 1989 border opening when Blagoveshchensk day-trippers began making shopping expeditions to Heihe to buy cheap consumer goods, clothing, the latest electronics, etc. Some Russians segued this into a nice little earner, commuting to the Chinese side, buying in bulk and transporting the goods back to Blagoveshchensk in suitcases to resell at a profit. They were known as kiprichi, also acquiring the less flattering nicknames of “suitcase traders” and ”bricks”. The bottom fell out of this two-way trade however in 2014 when the value of the Russian rouble disintegrated against the yuan. The suitcase trade was no longer profitable for Russians, finding their main source of trade with Heihe had disappeared down the gurgler. The devaluation also had a deleterious effect on many Chinese traders who had set up business in Blagoveshchensk (Kucera).
Russian dolls in Heihe (Photo: Zhang Wenfang/chinadaily.com.cn)
Mutual development?
༄࿓༄ The potential for larger scale cross-border exchange between the two cities has been slow to take root, not for lack of commitment or effort on the side of Heihe. Blagoveshchensk has repeatedly dragged its feet on initiates for joint commercial and industrial projects proposed by the Chinese, this is despite China being the Amur region’s largest trading partner! A case in point is the highway bridge connecting Heihe and Blagoveshchensk, essential to expand north Asian trade by integrating the two sides’ road networks. First mooted in 1988, the Russians procrastinated and procrastinated regarding committing to the project which it was envisaged would increase the flow of goods and people between the two towns exponentially…work only commenced in 2016 and construction finalised in late 2019 (still not opened in 2022 due to the ongoing pandemic). Heihe city became a free trade zone in 1992 and boosted by funding from Beijing as part of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), has strived to forge local (Dongbei/RFE) economic integration with it’s Russian twin town (even tying it to Moscow’s Siberian gas pipeline plans) [Gaye Christoffersen, ‘Sino-Russian Local Relations: Heihe and Blagoveshchensk’, The Asian Forum, 10-Dec-2019, www.theasianforum.org ].
Russian Far East demographic vulnerability ༄࿓༄
Blagoveshchensk’s reluctance to wholly engage with Heihe as partners in joint developments tap into prevailing Russian fears and anxieties about its giant southern neighbour, with whom it shares a porous 4,200-km border. With the Russian Far East being population poor and resource rich, Russian concerns about the possibility of future Chinese future designs on the vast, sparsely-populated territory—including the perceived threat of ‘Sinicisation’«𝓬» (being culturally overwhelmed by the far more numerous Chinese), Chinese expansionism and the balkanisation of the RFE—are never far from the surface. Concerns which are made sharper by awareness of the persisting sense of injustice felt by China at the 1858 Treaty (Billé).
Image: http://gioffe.asp.radford.edu/
Postscript: Siberian exports, casino tourism ༄࿓༄
Over the last several years there have a few optimistic signs that Blagoveshchensk is tentatively opening itself up to more trade with Heihe. In the last decade Amur Oblast’s exports (mainly soy, timber, gold, coal and electricity) to China have risen by 16% , and in the same period Chinese visitors to Blagoveshchensk increased tenfold aided by the hosts putting more effort into creating a more attractive environment for tourists, eg, the introduction of casinos in Blagoveshchensk to cater for Chinese gambling aficiandos. Of course, as with the new cross-border bridge, COVID-19 has stopped all of these positive developments dead in their tracks for now [D Simes Jr & T Simes, ‘Russian gateway to China eyes ‘friendship’ dividends after COVID’, Nikkei Asia, www.asia.nikkei.com ].
ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็ก็็
«𝓪» = “Annunciation”, literally meaning in Russian, “city of good news”. The traditional Chinese name for Blagoveshchensk is Hailanbao
«𝓫» with some exceptions such as the 65-metre tall, hyper-modern Asia Hotel
«𝓬» Kitaizatsia in Russian
Changbaibei: Mountains, Waterfalls, Tourist Peaks
Having traversed the slopes of Zhângbáishān nán (Changbaishan South) and Zhângbáishān xī (Changbaishan West), it is only fitting and proper, in the best traditions of Ed (Hilary), that you should explore the other available slope at Changbai, the North Slope❅.
Zhângbáishān bêi is the most popular section of the Changbai Mountain range. Everywhere across the West slope there were buses unloading visitors, many, many visitors and (therefore) queues! Understandably, the punters were predominantly Chinese from the vast pool of internal tourists who travel from all over the country, but also discernible were pockets of South Korean tourists, including women wearing the hanbok (traditional Korean formal dress).
Before you join the hordes of people ascending the wooden staircase to get a better view of the mountain waterfalls, you might want to linger around the shop stalls long enough to sample the local “hot spring eggs” which are boiled ‘naturally’ in situ in the surrounding hot springs. After trying the eggs (also available in a range of colours), another activity that takes on the element of ritual for the secular visitors is the quasi-ceremonial washing of hands in the nearby “hand washing pool” (supposedly according to the sign posted, a very warm 42°C).
As you proceed along the wooden walkway you will see, strewn all over the ground, pock-marked water holes comprising the mountain’s naturally-heated springs. Most climbers will make for a spot on the boardwalk that will offer the best vantage for the many waterfalls cascading down from the rim of the mountains.
The waterfalls, whose origin point is the majestic strato-volcanic Changbai wonder of Tianchi lake (known in local circles as “the source of three rivers”), function as an ideal backdrop for the myriad of visitors intent on getting their full complement of selfies.
The steps to the right take you up to a quaint bridge and viewing platforms, under which the Weihe River flows down from the main waterfall which comprises a 68-metre drop from the top. Around this spot you can be guaranteed of getting the best vistas of the range and waterfalls.
After taking in the views here, you can backtrack and take the left walkway, it’s winding steps will lead you to a picturesque lake and several small but breathtaking waterfalls.
Another thing you can do here, also with an element of the ritual to it, is drink from the “sacred well”, the Yu Jiang spring. But of course, partaking of the healing waters of Changbaishan is of itself not sufficient, the authentic tourist experience necessitates visual documentation of the ritual.
While you are ‘playing’ the North Slope (as one Chinese English-language promotional blurb interestingly described it), this might also involve a trek through the wilderness down a long set of steps to explore another stretch of Changbai waters. The notice near the start of the wooden track alerting you to the fact that the proximate wilderness is the habitat of the Siberian tiger might be a salutary warning to anyone who might be foolishly tempted to wander too far off the track.
____________________________________________
❅ the East Slope is located inside North Korea (to the Koreans it is known as Paektu or Baekdu Mountain)
Changbai County: Touring the Korean Border Country and the Yalu River
When I visited the eastern part of Liaoning province earlier in the year I was intrigued by the contrast between tourist-centric Dandong with its buzzing, thriving commercial activity on the Chinese side of the border, and Sinuiju, looking nondescript on the other side of the river in the People’s Democratic Republic of Korea. The latter city, with no signs of human life visible from our vantage point, seemed like a moribund blimp of a town by comparison with the Chinese city.
This was nowhere more apparent that after nightfall…the luminous lights and noise of Dandong with its riverside markets, its bridges a kaleidoscopia of colours, and its countless, neon-signed restaurants (some of which are North Korean) were a world apart from the virtually pitch-dark ‘nothingness’ on the North Korean side. Gazing across at the uniform greyness, I speculated that Sinuiju could nary ever have been more inconspicuously camouflaged, even at the height of the Korean War conflict.
The ‘view’ across the Yalu ▼
My appetite whetted, I wanted to delve a bit more of the enigma and mystery of the “Hermit Kingdom”, so long cloaked in authoritarian secrecy to the outside world. A subsequent boat trip up the Yalu left me little more enlightened about what life looked like across the border. Although our hire vessel got pretty close at times to the North Korean mainland, there was a bland homogeneity to what I could see…miles and miles of attractive but uninhabited hills and meadows, pockets of farmed land, the odd isolated building, a few roads, the occasional vehicle, but hardly a human to be sighted!❈
Touring Changbai County
Having planned from the start to include Changbai Mountains on my itinerary of the North-East tour, I was (mildly) hopeful that its proximity to the border might offer up new opportunities for North Korea-watching.
The Changbai border towns on the Chinese side are quite remote and relatively lightly populated (most of the internal tourists skip straight past them and make for the much vaunted mountains themselves). All along the Yalu river border between the two countries, there were no Korean border posts or guards in sight. The river itself was the only buffer (no barbed wire fences like I saw north of Dandong). It occurred to me that this un-patrolled, quite narrow and innocuous-looking waterway would not pose much of a challenge to any impoverished North Korean determined enough to escape to the Chinese side in pursuit of a better and more prosperous life. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine Korean refugees clandestinely slipping across the river border and being absorbed into a community with which it already had cultural and linguistic affinities.
Having hired a Baishan taxi for the day, we visited several of these border villages on route S303. Here I got a chance to see just much Korean culture had permeated the border and river into China. At one point on the river near Maluguo Town, we stopped at a spot where some peasant farmers had laid out their bright harvest of red peppers on the wall to dry (and to sell). This was part of a little trading post peddling various little North Korean trinkets and knicknaks.
The Korean changgu, integrated into Changbai County public sculpture and municipal utilities ▼▲
Korean influences on Changbai County
While here, I bought some North Korean currency packaged in a passport-type folder. The value of the North Korean notes and coins (chon) amounted to over ₩1260. As it cost me only CN¥20 to buy, I figure that’s pretty indicative of how low regard the North Korean won is held in round these parts!
I found other symbols of Korean culture near the roadside stalls, some in a form that surprised – such as the local public rubbish bins, painted vividly red and green and in the shape of the changgu (a traditional Korean hour-glass shaped double drum). I didnt see any women in the street wearing hanboks (traditional, formal vibrantly-coloured Korean dresses), although I did see them being worn later at Changbai on the mountain.
Model Korean village ▼
Continuing on for a few hundred yards we stopped at Guoyuan Village, a tourist an attraction in border country which houses a model Korean village. The village consists of some basic Korean log timber dwellings, a backyard produce garden and a well. The adjoining Korean-style gardens contains a pleasant stream with an agricultural water-wheel with a scattering of sculptures. We stayed here about an hour, wandering the gardens and taking photos. Curiously the place was deserted, we were the only visitors here, no staff around either (though there was a Korean restaurant at the front of the village). Suffice it to say it was a very peaceful and serene setting and a very pleasant diversion.
Heroic scenes from Chinese history ▲
Leaving Guoyuan and driving east along the river, there are many points which you can stop at to gain excellent vantage points of North Korea. On the way to Changbaishan we paused at quite a number of such spots. At two that we stopped there were viewing platforms and towers have been specifically constructed to provide a window into the Hermit Kingdom◓. On of the wall of one these long raised viewing platform was a large sculptural composition done in bas relief form and depicting what looked like epic sagas drawn from Chinese imperial history.
Spying on the North Koreans? ▲
Imitation Great Wall and scenic North Korean peak ▲
On the road running parallel with the river there is a long but not very high wall designed to resemble the “Great Wall”. From the many high points along the wall you can get clear, uninterrupted views across the Yalu to the North Korean grassy peaks and farmlands. At a couple of points on the river we came upon a few villages and small industrial towns with antiquated, grimy factories and workshops. Overall it tended to look a bit drab, though there were some houses and residential blocks that were brightly painted.
A pagoda-roofed border site for scenic views of the DPRK▼
Footnote: Yalu River border Yalu is a Manchu word meaning “the boundary between two countries” and the river indeed represents the lion’s share of the modern border between DPRK and PRC (the other portions of the Sino-North Korean boundary comprise the Tumen River and a small slab of the Paektu/Changbai Mountain. The river is 795 km in length and contains around 205 islands, some owned by China and some owned by North Korea. At its southwestern end it empties into the Korea Bay between Dandong and Sinuiju. The Yalu is also known as the Amrok or the Amnok River.
〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣
❈ there was a similar outcome when I visited Hushan Tiger Mountain Great Wall, which from its highest towers you can see deep into North Korea and seemingly endless acres of pastures and meadows
◓ in fact at one of the viewing structures there were binoculars set up on tripods allowing you to zoom in on the Korean town activity(sic) just across the water
The Long Climb up a “Stairway to Heaven”, a Northern Lake and Mountain Range to Savour
Changbaishan is not the most easily accessible scenic wonder of the PRC world. From Shenyang we had to take a VST (very slow train), a horror overnighter of a trip that I have described elsewhere✱. Our sleeper train overslept by two-and-a-half hours with the consequence that when we arrived at Baihe we were too late for the morning bus service to Changbaishan. So, we cut our losses and got a taxi to our lodgings and contented ourself on discovering the ‘delights’of the rather unprepossessing town of Baihe.
The next day we made for the town tourist centre to buy tickets to Changbaishanxi or Changbai Mountain West⍟. Our overriding objective was to see the famous Changbai Tianchi – the much touted “Heavenly Lake”. When our bus got to the car park at the foot of the Tianchi mountains we were aware from the vast crowds and lines that greeted us, that it was everybody’s overriding objective.
We had already caught glimpses of the glistering white, snow-like peaks as the bus chugged up the winding road to the tourism site. After availing ourselves of the toilets near the car park (there being no public amenities at the top of the mountain barring a single souvenir stall), we joined the thronging lines of people embarking on the climb.
From the bottom looking up, there are two walkways, on the left the down staircase and on the right the wooden up staircase. Unfortunately, for walkers going up the right-side steps, some people coming down were blissfully unaware of or simply ignored the clearly posted signs about keeping right on the way down. As a result, walkers going up regularly have to dodge and weave their way round non-conformist walkers on the wrong side. Annoying!
What was already a challenging walk up the mountain, was made more difficult by the heat of the day. Especially so for me…because of the anticipated cold of the mountains I had worn Long Johns under my jeans. This made the climb up for me very heavy-going indeed. The ascent to Heavenly Lake in high summer is not “a piece of cake”…but of course you can always stop at any point, take a breather and admire the unrelentingly beautiful vista.
A further off-putting element for a first-time climber at Changbai West is the deceptiveness of the slope. Rather than one (very) long, single “Stairway to Heaven”, the section of stairs you were struggling up would end, only to be continued by a new section. On the ascent, as we paused to take deep gulps of air, we found it difficult to gauge exactly where the top was! It was like the mountain peak was teasing us…just when we were beginning to feel relief having sighted (finally) what we thought was the summit, it would be taken away from us by the appearance of another (and another) extension of the seemingly never-ending stairway.
The one redeeming feature of this long arduous climb is that the steps are marked at five-metre intervals, so as you breathlessly drag yourself onward and upward, at least you know how far you’ve gone. But we didn’t check on the vertical distance before we embarked on the challenge of the Tianchi stairs. So this proved only of limited comfort to us seeing we had no idea how far there was still to go!
When we ultimately made it to the summit there was genuine relief to be felt. As well, there’s a congratulatory sign at the top to verify the achievement: SUMMIT! GREAT JOB! it proclaims. The sign informs walkers that they’ve reached a elevation point some 2,470 metres above sea-level, numerical confirmation of how high they’ve climbed.
For those who can’t physically manage the walk or just don’t feel like doing the ‘hard yakka”, there is the option of ascent by sedan. You can be ferried up the mountain’s infinite number of steps by a brace of hired carriers. You may even experience the momentary pleasure of imagining, just fleetingly, that you are like some distant China emperor! I did however spare a sympathetic thought for a couple of the sedan carriers I passed. There they were about two-thirds of the way up, two fairly slenderly built guys, slumped over, sprawled on the steps, the effort of transporting their rotund and corpulently-proportioned client in this stifling heat was just too much for the poor fellows.
At the summit there’s a large rectangular-shaped wooden viewing platform to gaze out on the Heavenly Lake. Almost all of the ballast was on one side of the platform, everyone with a camera or a mobile phone was jockeying for the optimal position on the the lake side to take photos and selfies from.
The utter serenity and stillness of the idyllic landscape, of this gem of nature, contrasted with the jostling and chattering of the human visitors. But it was undeniably a sight worth the trek up the mountain. Seeing Tianchi, with its pristine blue waters at the very top of such a vast mountain peak, was proof that the tag “Heavenly Lake” was not hyperbole. This picture-perfect strato-volcanic crater lake must be one of the most photographed rural lake settings in the world.
The return walk down was much less taxing on the legs than going up, a leisurely saunter requiring relatively little effort by comparison, notwithstanding the cautionary sign at the start of the downward stairway: “Many Steps / Take Care / Please Go Slowly”.
Footnote: Shuǐguài lake myth
Tianchi Heavenly Lake has a history of supposed sightings of water ‘monsters’ inhabiting the lake – dating back to 1903, a sort of a Chinese version of the famous Scottish Loch Nest Monster.
༘෴ ༘෴ ༘෴ ༘෴༘෴ ༘෴ ༘෴ ༘෴༘෴ ༘෴ ༘෴ ༘෴
✱ ‘Take the Slow Train to Baihe and (hopefully) I’ll Meet you at the Station’, (Sept 2019), http://www.7dayadventurer.com/take-the-slow-train-to-baihe-and-hopefully-ill-meet-you-at-the-station/
⍟ for tourism purposes Changbai Mountains is divided into three distinct sections, a north, a south and a west slope. Presumably the reason there is no Chinese east section is because the east part is located in the “People’s Democracy” of (North) Korea… in this part of the Baekdu Mountains, the Korean name for the lake is Cheonji
Shenyang’s House of the Marshal Zhangs
If you are touring Liaoning’s provincial capital and want a taste of Shenyang’a history, you will most probably have the no longer ‘forbidden’ (Mukden) palace on your itinerary. After doing Mukden, the Marshal Museum is your essential next stop. And conveniently its just a leisurely saunter from Gú Gōng in the middle of Shenhe District.
Marshal Mansion, Chaoyang Street ⇣
You’ll find Marshal Museum in Chaoyang Street, a street worthy of exploring more widely while visiting Shenyang, its variety and interest extending well beyond Marshal Museum in itself. On the day we visited the museum it wasn’t drawing the same numbers of people who were swarming all over the Imperial Palace, but it certainly was attracting a very healthy sum of interested punters in its own right.
What is today a museum was the former home of a family of prominent Dongbei warlords in the first half of the 20th century – the Zhangs, a brace of Zhangs, father and son. During China’s turbulent “warlord era” following the overthrow of the Qing Dynasty, Generalissimo Zhang Zuolin established a power base in the Northeast region. This was his home and after he was assassinated in 1928, his son Zhang Xueliang assumed the mantle as Dongbei warlord and Chinese strongman.
In large part because the younger Zhang lived a very long life (to 100) and there are more resources on him, the personal artefacts, possessions, photos, etc. contained within the museum puts more focus on Xueliang than on his father.
The mansion-cum-museum’s layout comprises several separate building connected by a series of courtyards. While not as lavish or large an affair as the “Puppet Emperor” Pu Yi’s palace-museum in Changchun, the Marshal Mansion exudes a powerful sense of the power players in control of Chinese’s destiny before the ascent to power of the communist rulers.
The key architecturally piece, the standout of the museum is the mansion itself. The building is Neo-Gothic in style, not mega-large but substantially large. The curious thing was that in front of the facade was what looked like a random dump of very large rocks, collected together in a large pile. I thought it an odd juxtaposition but I realise it wasn’t merely happenstance and doubtlessly it held some deep cultural and perhaps even religious significance※.
The other buildings represent a hotch-potch of different architectural styles, ranging from traditional Siheyuan buildings to South China pavilions to habitable structures blending Western and Chinese styles.
A mansion temple and more of those sacred rocks ⇣
The interior displays have a predictably martial theme (befitting the military power-players the Zhang were) and there’s a section devoted to Zueliang’s exile and migration to Hawaii after his fall from grace – with lots of pictures and material.
A mic’d-up on-site tour guide ⇣
One of the rooms contains an inventive and spectacular war mural which is part painting and part sculpture, depicting a full-on visualised battle scene which is graphically very effective.
Two of the outdoor exhibits which caught my eye were of a transportation kind. The museum held two of the Zhangs’ vehicles: the Zhang family sedan (a horse-drawn carriage) and a motor truck, the sign for which makes the claim to be if not China’s earliest automobile (I doubted this!), at least one of the very earliest automobiles in the country.
⇡Marshal Zhang’s accountant
Like the nearby Imperial Palace, Marshal Zhang Museum makes much use of waxworks type mannequins to enhance the “historic atmosphere”. So we find different buildings ‘peopled’ by life-size dummies – the warlord’s administrators (accountants and such), his military staff and other functionaries of the mansion✦.
Next door to the Zhang museum❂ is another tiny (micro-) museum – the Shen Yang Financial Museum. Our tickets got us into this museum as well so I wasn’t sure if there was some formal nexus between the two museums.
Entry to the Marshal Zhang Mansion Museum (as of September 2019) is ¥60 adult and ¥30 concession (same fee structure as for the Mukden Palace).
Footnote: in my article on Shenyang’s Gú Gōng I mentioned the penchant Chinese officialdom have for flowery prose when it comes to public signage. Well, Marshal Mansion didn’t quite live up to the standard for tangentially romantic and imprecise language set by the Imperial Palace, but they came up with a more prosaic and down-to-earth sign for their lawns…one much more directly to the point: 远离绿草 “Move your step away from green grass”.
———————————————————–
※ another take on the seemingly patternless clump of rocks is that they suggest a kind of prehistoric countenance
✦ I don’t recall seeing mannequins of either Zhang among those featured at the mansion. This is in sharp contrast to the clay and wax facsimiles of Pu Yi which seem to pop up all over the Changchun palace
❂ in Shaoshuaifu Alley, just off Chaoyang Street
Exploring Shênhé Qū: Beyond Mukden Palace
Tourists to the Northeast city of Shenyang looking to absorb some of the history of the place tend to head for Mukden (or Fèngtiān) Palace 奉天宫 (these days perhaps better known as Shenyang Imperial Palace or Chényáng gùgōng)❋.
Although Shenyang’s fame resides with the only other Chinese imperial palace outside of Beijing, the old city of Shenhe has other attractions in the neighbourhood worthy of a diversion away from the palace and Shenyang Street. I have already touched on Marshal Zhang Mansion (and museum) and Chaoyang Jie (the subject of separate blog pieces).
But if you want to explore other places in Shenhe District (Shênhé Qū) celebrating Chinese history and culture, you could start just across the road from Gù Gōng. I happened upon this fairly new monument site to China’s past set in a wide plaza running from Shenyang Jie to Shengjian Lú. The monument, typically Chinese in design, comprises a busy ‘canvas’ of numerous bronze relief sculptures crammed together and mounted on to two long walls which face each other. The monument’s subject matter represents various threads drawn from China’s long and turbulent history of empire and war (no thematic shortage of martial figures on horseback with weapons) .
While you are in the immediate vicinity, if you exit the monument-laden square at the western end you’ll end up in Shengjing Road. This is another street of interest worth a saunter down it. It contains a good mix of new and older architecture.
Another interesting digression can be had by following Shenyang Jie south for several blocks. There are are some splendid examples of modern buildings borrowing from the traditional styles of Chinese architecture. Eventually you will arrive at a rather magnificent Chinese arch at a major intersection in the road. A pagoda-style structure – dwarfed by comparison – sits atop the massively proportioned arch (this human-made icon is best viewed at night when luminously lit up)$. 
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
❋ in the same way as tourists seeking the Shenyang ultimate shopping experience make a beeline for Middle Road (Zhōng Jiē) and its very long commercial pedestrian plaza
$ no less a triple-tunnelled arch – with a dominant central tunnel bookended by two smaller, subordinate tunnels
Gù Gōng, a Cut-down version of the Beijing Archetype
If you’ve been to Beijing and trekked the city’s tourist trail, you will inevitably see, et al, the Forbidden City (Zǐjìnchéng) 顾功. If you subsequently also find yourself as a visitor in the principal city of Liaoning province, Shenyang, you’re almost equally inevitably going to include the Northeast version of Beijing’s imperial gem on your “to see” list.
For some, seeing the provincial version of the Forbidden Palace with the image of the monumental original in mind, might prove somewhat of a letdown. Shenyang Imperial Palace (Gù Gōng) 顾功❋ is a mere one-twelfth the size of the fabled Forbidden Palace, yet it would be very harsh to write off Gù Gōng as a pocket edition of the Beijing prototype. The architects have condensed a great deal of real estate into the >60,000 square metres of the palace grounds at Shenyang. There are more than 300 rooms and around 20 separate courtyards in the complex.
Note: The cost of a ticket to enter the Shenyang Imperial Palace and Museum is set at parity with the nearby Marshal Zhang Mansion (60 CN¥ for adults).
Gù Gōng was built in the 1630s under the directions of Nurhachi and Abahai (the two founding emperors of the Qing Dynasty from 1644). Shenyang Palace’s layout comprises three sections, an eastern, middle and western section (this latter section was constructed by a later Qing emperor). The eastern section includes a component known as the “Ten Kings’ Pavilion” – a group of pavilions where the Qings determined imperial policy for the internal affairs of the country.
The architecture of Gù Gōng is interesting in itself. Stylistically, Gù Gōng is a blend of different building styles. The many buildings and structures comprise an architectural amalgam – among these, Han, Manchu, Mongolian and Tibetan styles can be readily discerned within the palace’s four walls.
The museum component of Gù Gōng includes a raft of Qing imperial art treasures. Among the items on display, direct from the Qing emperor’s pantry are many peerless examples delicate and beautifully glassware, together with enamel vases and gourds, ivory utensils. Not to forget the other such irreplaceable knickknacks from the erstwhile royal household.
Apart from visiting the palaces’s artworks and artefacts and it’s pavilions, another thing you can do at Gù Gōng, if you really want to get into the decadent spirit and sense of privilege of the Qing lifestyle, is costume hire! For not too many shekels✫ you can physically transform yourself into a Qing emperor or empress…for a few fleeting moments. Once you’ve traded your civilian garb for some over-the-top, fake imperial clobber (the colour red is non-negotiably mandatory), the vendor will snap a series of photos in various poses against an appropriate backdrop, ie, astride a mock Chinese imperial throne! 
When in non-English speaking countries, I must admit I do derive a wickedly almost schadenfreude-like buzz from seeking out colourfully inaccurate but humorous attempts at rendering public signs into English (AKA ‘Chinglish’). And my experience in China over three visits is that these translation concoctions are among the most wildly unrestrained, off-the-page and imaginative going – they are almost invariably, pure gold! And I’m pleased to report that Shenyang Imperial Palace did not let me down in this regard. The pick of the palace signs was this gems adorning (or guarding) the palace lawn: “Splash tears when stepping on. After stepping grass heart-wrenching”, a very roundabout way of conveying the direct, standard message “Please keep off the grass”⚀. And yet, as mangled syntactically and grammatically as it is, you can not but admire the very idiosyncratic but nonetheless quite poetic nature of it! Very Chinese to be sure!
PostScript: Shěnyáng lù 沈阳路 and that arch!
If you make your way to Shenyang Imperial Palace from North Shenyang (Zhongjie) subway station (in Shenhe district), it’s but a short walk (less than three blocks) but one itself of interest, even before you reach the palace. At the major cross-street just down from the station exit, an imposingly massive grey archway with a terracotta pagoda roof marks the start of the street, and in a way announces that you are passing into the precinct of the palace. Upon seeing the ‘imperial’ arch the first time I reasonably but erroneously assumed it was the palace entrance itself, which is actually another two blocks further east! Aside from the symbolic arch there are several other interesting buildings in this street, again presenting a contrast of traditional and more modern Chinese building styles.
Shenyang lu
⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢⇢
❋ sometimes referred to as the Mukden Palace (perhaps of archaic use now). ‘Mukden’ was the Manchu name for the city
✫ about 60 to 100 yuans depending on how regal you want to get!
⚀ in a similar bent, posted on another lawn (perhaps more abstrusely) was “Looking at flowers and plants outside the garden and laughing”
Tài Yáng Dâo: A Verdant Green Island, a Russian Themed Park, a Disneyfied Castle and a Surplusage of Squirrels
Our ultimate day in Harbin, what to do? My own leaning, on surveying the options, nudged me towards a trip to Unit 731 (AKA Detachment 731), a museum established in a multi-building complex which was used by the Japanese military and scientists to carry out heinous biological experiments on the local population during the Thirties and Forties. My travelling companion’s inclination however was for spending a less sombre and more genteel day at Tai Yang Dao (Sun Island). In the end what swayed it for Sun Island was proximity, it being a short boat distance from Central (Z.Y.) Street, compared to Unit 731 which was located in the city’s back blocks, requiring a long train trip from the centre.
We decided crossing the river by boat would be the optimal way to get to Sun Island. The other but considerably more expensive way to get to Sun Island is by cable car, which certainly provides a bird’s-eye level vantage point during the crossing (you can also get there circuitously by taxi, crossing a series of bridges). There is no charge to visit Sun Island but access to amusements, rides, activities, etc attract a charge.
The water transport to Sun Island departs from the wharves at Sidalin Park✹. Boats run pretty much continuously all day✥ to the island, so popular is the venue. Although it’s just across the Songhua River we didn’t make straight for Sun Island. The three-quarter full charter boat took a left once out in the channel and headed down the river for a view of the city south skyline behind Stalin Park down to the bridges. We also got to see some of the nearby uninhabited islands overrun by the reeds and wild grasses of the wetlands. I say ‘uninhabited’ but this is only 99 per cent factual. As we make a bee-line for 太阳岛, coming up on your left is the local branch of the men’s nude bathers’ club (fortunately, some might say for sake of aesthetically considerations, the Harbin naturalists are a discreet distance away).
As the ageing journeyman ferry chugs across the water we take videos of the approaching island and the cable cars being pulled back and forth. I remind myself that in just a few months time this trip won’t be possible…the clear aqua-turquoise surface of the river will become solid frozen with the onset of Harbin’s winter. Amusingly, we pass a line of swimmers in single file. These, older men mainly, are slowly swimming, or more accurately half swimming, half dog-paddling, their way from an island to the mainland. Each of them is carrying a rucksack of belongings attached to them by rope like an umbilical cord✧.
As the boat approaches the island wharf, one or two landmarks catch the eye from the river. The first, from a distance looks like a light-hearted sculpture of a very large white swan or is it a goose? When we got to the wharf we realised it wasn’t a pop culture artwork, but the comical masthead on a pleasure vessel for visitors (and especially children) to ride on.
The second, much more visible landmark getting the attention of the boat passengers looks like a historic European castle rising up out the treetops, something you might find on the Danube – in Budapest for instance. Once ashore, on closer inspection, it’s historical pedigree is found wanting. It is of more origin and seems to be inspired by the logo figurehead castle you see at Disneyland! The ‘castle’ turns out to be the central administrative and amenities building for the island’s commercial operations.
Getting around the island by foot is possible but it covers a large expanse of land and the attractions are quite spread out. So from the wharf we decided to use the “people mover” or the mini-bus to get-about (¥20 each). This made logistical sense but our experience was that it proved a very poor service provider. I was expecting it to operate as a flexible “hop-on, hop-off” arrangement (a lá the Big Red Bus in capital cities globally), but we were not able to hail down one of the many vehicles continually circling the park (every though we had purchased tickets). Each time we tried the bus driver refused to stop for us even when the vehicle was virtually empty (great PR Sun Island!). Apparently our ticket permitted us to use certain passenger service vehicles only (not explained at point of sale).
That said, the island park did not lack for attractions and points of interest. The various, quaint bridges around the ponds makes for nice “eye-candy”. A Russian-style village garden added to the theme park feel of Sun Island. The section containing the waterfalls and accompanying rock caves were a real highlight for photography manic-obsessives❂ (tip: the pick of the pix is an angled one capturing both the rock-face waterfalls and the big balloon in the shot).
Many of the island fixtures are well worth a close-up inspection. The mega-scale, modernist monument (a combination of white ovals and arches) near the Greenway is an interesting feature in itself. Another white structure with two storey viewing towers of the water is similar appealing in its design. I was also taken by the supersized “organic sculpture” that we stumbled upon. This creation was another popular point for visitors to mill round and snap endless selfies. The mainly green and red bird (of paradise?)◙ is entirely a floral construction in the familiar style of Jeff Koons (the gigantic floral puppy that once graced Sydney’s Circular Quay, now in Bilbao, Spain).
And if nature encounters with fauna are your bag, then Sun Island will not disappoint. You can visit a section of the park with fenced off animals of the more gentle kind like deer and caribou. Here for a fee you can pat and feed members of the Cervidae family inside an enclosure. I noticed that with the deer, familiarity brings a singular expectation on their part. Far from being reticent and shy, the creatures can sniff out a food-toting human from 60 feet.
But the one member of the animal kingdom that seems most at home on Tai Yang Dao are small rodents from the Sciuridae clan. The island abounds with the common acorn-addicted squirrel, plentiful on the ground and in the trees. So numerous they are, they have been designated their own section, “Squirrel Lake”, but you don’t need to go here to find them, they inhabit the entire wooded area of Sun Island. While walking around the island, at the back of the Russian model gardens, I spotted a ginger cat in hot pursuit of a squirrel, desperately but hopelessly trying to diminish the fleet-footed Sciuridae population by one.
〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣〣
✹ the return boat trip to and from Taiyangdao wharf costs 35 RMB per person and includes a “grand tour” of the riverfront
✥ well to late-ish afternoon anyway, the Pingfang attraction closes about five o’clock
✧ I don’t think they were heading for the nude men’s beach (carrying too much baggage for a start!)
❂ ie, mostly everybody on an overseas junket!
◙ it looked like a chicken to me but I’m going with the Chinese bird of paradise which would be more emblematic
Zhaolin Park, Bridges and Canal: Harbin’s Green Chill-out Zone
From Harbin’s tourism centro, Zhongyang Jie, you can find your way to Zhaolin Park by heading north one block. This succulently lush green park with its verdant plant life is a great place to retreat to, getting away from all the people, all the hustle and bustle of Zhongyang Street. And it’s very reachable via a short walk down Shangyou Street from Z.Y. Street.
Zhaolin Park, attractively set on a large block of public land (more than 8 hectares), is roomy yet it is also compact…it fits quite a lot of things into its space while still allowing you the freedom to roam around. What defines the essence of the park is the canal that snakes it’s way through the park and gardens. It is the thread that connects the various parts of green Zhaolin. By walking in concentric circles around the park you can acquaint yourself with the various quaint and charming bridges which cross the canal at different points.
Zhaolin Park is well resourced, little wonder then that families tend to flock there. It especially caters for the juvenile visitor. Exotic birds in large cages in one part. Several different amusements for children are contained within the park perimeter, plenty of gentle rides for the younger child. For the family as a whole, the most popular element are the paddle boats. You can hire a colourful boat and paddle a course up and down the canal.
Being on the lookout for traces of the Russian presence that once pervaded Harbin, I particularly noticed the old entrance gates and buildings on my way in and out (in Senlin and in Shangzhi streets). The structures project a distinctly Russian dome character in the design. It is refreshingly and perhap surprising to report that Zhaolin Park is adequately equipped with toilets, but if I had one quibble it is the same one I have with most many public parks. Given the constant and steady stream of visitors Zhaolin receives, it could do with a lot more seats for the punters distributed right across the park.
FN: at the peak freeze-point of the northern hemisphere (January-February each year), Zhaolin Park transforms from green to ice and snow white. It is one of the places you can take in the spectacle of ever-more imaginative ice sculptures that Harbin is internationally famous for (home of the winter Ice Festival and Ice Lantern Show)
PostScript: Name derivation
Zhaolin Park was originally called Lam Kam Road Park✽. It was renamed in the late 1940s in honour of a Chinese communist guerrilla leader and Dongbei political organiser. Li Zhaolin organised and led the Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army in its resistance to the Japanese invaders in the Second Sino-Japanese War. In 1946 Li was assassinated in Harbin by Kuomintang agents. Zhaolin Park can be entered from Shangzhi Street, which is named after another Northeast communist commander in the war against the Japanese, Zhao Shangzhi.
——————————————————————-
✽ or Daoli Park
Zhongyang Street: A Little Night Music, A Bit of an Arty Cosmopolitan Vibe, Residual Russianness and a Smokin’ Hutong
Zhongyang✽ Street (to insiders Z.Y. Street for short) proclaims itself in the elaborate, neon-lit arch that spans the start of the street. A small plaque hanging from the arch announces: 中央大街建筑艺术博物馆 -Architectural Arts Museum of Central Avenue, a tag that is a bit pretentious for what is Harbin’s high tourism pedestrian street.
The commercial hub of the street comprises restaurants, eateries, souvenir shops and hotels. The further you go down the street towards the river, the grander the buildings become. This is where many of the city centre’s older and grander Russian buildings are, including several palatial structures in the Baroque style (alas, some of these grand old mega-buildings have suffered the ignominy of being sub-divided to accommodate KFC and other fast food operators). 
Although Z.Y’s Russianness can be glimpsed everywhere. Place names, shop and restaurant names for the most part are present in both Russian and Chinese. But he Russian imprint on Zhongyang is more profound than this. At many of the street’s corners you can see the Russian architectural influences in the onion domes, minarets and spires sitting atop many buildings. 
With Zhongyang’s cornucopia of niteries and gift shops, the street flows with people ever-so slowly ambling up and down the old cobblestone pavements. They are present from first thing in the morning through to and beyond nightfall. But it is at night that Z.Y. Street really comes alive. The street is a thriving heartbeat, and the night beat is a musical one! The melodic sounds of old-fashioned small bands and trios can be heard all along the central thoroughfare. This recurring feature gives Harbin its nickname of Music City (although Harbinites tend to render it in English as ‘Muisic’ City). The musical highlight for me was a solo guitarist playing with great gusto from an upstairs Z.Y. balcony. This ‘muso’ who wasn’t Chinese (possibly he was Russian) was really going off, strutting his stuff for the gathering of visitors below with Jimi Hendrix-like zeal and vigour! 
The evening is also the right time to explore Zhongyang Jie’s artists’ nook at the river end of the street. Around dusk every night a contingent of bohemian-looking❇ artists set up their chairs, boards, frames and utensils to drum up some passing business. The crayon-fingered artists, predominantly badly dressed males with straggly long-hair and unkempt beards, invite curious passers-by to have their portrait drawn during a short sitting. The street artists seem to do solid, steady business although there’s always a lot more watchers than there are models willing to fork out the 60-80 CH¥ plus 20 CH¥ for the plastic cylindrical container to keep it safe in. While my partner was having her likeness recreated in pencil and crayon, I checked out the ‘live’ handiwork of the other artists…some were of course better than others (although this might be a matter of taste) but I thought that the quality of drawing along the strip was consistently fairly good.
A discus throw’s distance from the artists’ niche was another, not to be missed attraction, again best visited at night. In a side lane off Z.Y., lit up like Christmas, is one of the busiest, noisiest food hutongs you are likely to experience. Stretching 100 plus metres down the lane are a long line of street food stalls (mostly selling much the same stuff, kebabs it seemed to me). The hutong produced a spectacular light show of colour and a throbbing vibe of noise from competing soundtracks and the din of the stall-holders hawking their fast food ‘delicacies’. But it was the first food stall on the corner bearing the name “Food Supermarket of Quidelia” that attracted the most attention. It was more boisterous than the others, and this was down to the antics of one particular vendor. Taking centre stage was this zany, hyperactive dude in sunglasses and conspicuously large colourful wrist beads (a bit of a fashion trend for young Chinese males). His ‘routine’ consisted of a sudden launch into corybantic dancing❅ to the pulsating street music while twirling a fan (or several fans) in a 360° arc…then seamlessly he would swap the fan for some food tongs, flip a couple of kebabs and then resume his over-the-top, campish dance performance with an undiminished degree of furibund intensity. Quite mesmerising in a WTF way!
Heading westerly up Z.Y. towards the river you will come to a heavy traffic cross-street. The town planners’ solution to this impediment to pedestrian progress was to build an underground pathway which allows those on foot to by-pass the dense vehicular traffic overhead. Known as the “Pedestrian Tunnel under Zhongyang Street”, the tunnel has the additional function of being a secure space for the city’s youth to congregate. Here, the local kids hang-out, skate-board or play ti jianzi (the popular game of foot shuttlecock that many Chinese especially in Beijing are obsessed with). A couple of passageways funnelling off from the tunnel lead to a small U-shaped shopping arcade which caters mainly for tourists. 
Footnote: If you get past all of the shops and other vibrantly alive distractions that Zhongyang Street throws at you, there’s a very pleasant riverine park awaiting you at the end. The path cutting through the park provides an enjoyable stroll for those in no rush to go anywhere fast. Neat garden edge-boxes, strategically positioned trees of the Weeping Willow variant and several tasteful marble works of sculpture add to the aesthetic appeal of the park. The other feature of the park worthy of comment is the monument to those Harbinites whose lives were profoundly impacted by the 1957 flood catastrophe in Harbin (honouring both the victims and the heroes of the disaster). The monument, the Flood Memorial Tower, is augmented by a more modern structure, a large semi-circular, columned arch which, in the way popular with contemporary Chinese town planners, produces a nightly kaleidoscope of alternating colours intended to dazzle onlookers.
ڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡڡ
✽‘Central’ in Chinese
❇ looking the part with a full ration of “starving artist” street cred
❅ for ‘dancing’ read gyrating wildly in a frenetic manner
Daoli and Lao DaoWai: Heading Northeast in Harbin
If ever you find yourself in Harbin, China, and can manage to tear yourself away from the great northern city’s tourist Mecca Zhongyang Pedestrian Street (AKA Central Street), you should head northeast in the direction of the old town district. Our destination, Lao Daowai (literally “Outside the old road”) on the occasion we visited Harbin, was a sprawling area on the northeastern side of Harbin, although its hard to pin down exactly where the district begins (at least it is for a Wàiguó rén passing through).
We started out in Daoli District at St Sophia Square, a pleasant open plaza about three blocks east of X.Y. Street. At one end of the square is the St Sophia monument, a large black arch and skeletal structure mimicking the shape of the church. In the shadow of the arch is an improvised amusement park where pre-school kids can be shunted round the square in a giant robotic “Star Wars clone” of a moving contraption or via some other similarly ‘cool’ vehicular means.
The landmark arch also provides a popular modern visual backdrop in good weather for newlyweds regularly seen there with photographer in tow… invariably you will find at least happy couple all decked out in the full matrimonial outfit taking advantage of the setting to pad out their wedding videos.
The Russians are long gone from here of course but they left a host of architectural calling cards around the square. Pride of place in the plaza lies with the historic Russian cathedral (собор) Saint Sofiya. Some of the older (Russian-era) buildings in Harbin are also close to the square. Daoli’s grand buildings (such as the dome edifice in picture 1 above) share the area with working class markets and what looks like the city’s theatre district.
Go further north and further east and you will reach Lao DaoWai. Here you will find pockets of urban decay, where grand houses and apartments in the Russian era once stood, the remnants have fallen on straitened times. In one particular street I observed rows of such old faded buildings with the distinctive Russian-style roof peaks in very dismal, unloved condition. You could say, taking the glass half-full line, that it conveys character to the ‘ancient’ city-scape, but truly some of DaoWai’s residential blocks are barely habitable, and to be perhaps a bit uncharitable, little better than crumbling wrecks on the outside. 
Away from the depressed, rundown part of the district, we travelled through an old warehouse sub-district which also didn’t lack for character. One factory-shop we stopped in front of didn’t appear to be open (lights off inside, no sign of life). But hovering around the doorway for a few minutes attracted the attention of the hitherto-unseen septuagenarian owner who quickly invited us in. The interior was all a bit old and dusty, but we had a glance around at the merchandise and even bought several pairs of colourful sox. The socks were extremely cheap, unfortunately after wearing them for a short time we discovered why (the quality of fabric was stretched very thin indeed).
From here we made for the Lao DaoWai riverfront. This turned out to be the most lively and fun part of the district. First up, the road leading to the water (ie, to the Songhua River) was a mishmash of different businesses in (at best) ordinary looking premises, interwoven with a number of interesting buildings and structures which make good use of traditional Chinese architectural motifs and features. 
The river offered up a most pleasant diversion from the grit and grim of downtown Lao DaoWai. There is a long waterfront promenade which winds it’s way back southwest to the popular Zhongyang Jie area and beyond. A leisurely walk along the riverfront allowed us to take in many attractive and interesting sights. As we arrived, fishing boats were returning with what seemed quite modest and even disappointing catches. Following the lead of the locals, we went aboard one of the working vessels to investigate. All the sea seemed to yield up to these fishermen were tiny shrimp, shrimp and more shrimp, a quite miserly haul I thought for an afternoon’s net work. 
Continuing our saunter down the river, what caught my eye was the pattern of wall decorations on display. At set points all the way along the Daowai waterside promenade, the local people’s council had installed a series of artworks with Chinese themes and traits. These were small murals of bas-relief metal panels painted red and depicting different aspects of Chinese culture, work and life. Much needed I thought, as they certainly brightened and enlivened what was otherwise a drab, beige, nondescript wall. 
One of the high points for me was the panoramic views across Songhua River to the large forested island and the high-rise city in the distance. It was also fun to sit back observing the locals indulging in their afternoon leisure activities. Some were fishing from the shore or swimming (or maybe some of these lathering up were just washing themselves). There were plenty of Harbinites walking their dogs (French poodles seemed to be the preferred Harbin canine pet of choice). Others were just sunning themselves on the bank, unwinding and generally chilling out.
Nearly halfway back to “tourism central” (Z.Y. Street), the Lao DaoWai promenade abruptly ends at a set of short, steepish steps. The riverfront path however continues eastwards through Daoli and the central area via other walkways which take you past (among other things) a landmark, upmarket riverfront hotel with a very unusual six-seater vehicle out the front and the Songhua River Bridge (below).
FN: Songhua River Bridge
This pedestrian–only bridge (although there is also a separate bicycle lane) is worth deviating off the scenic river pathway for a stroll across it. It lights up at night when its popularity reaches its zenith. The bridge is of the cable truss type, originally built by the Russians around the end of the 19th century.
Manchukuo Puppet Palace: Inside the Faux Empire of Pu-Yi
We got the Changchun light rail✽ to the Puppet Emperor’s Palace train station. The palace entrance was on a wide street with a coterie of policemen guarding the gate. Tickets were acquired in the booking office/souvenir shop opposite at a cost of 70 CN¥ per head (pensioners with ID, passport, free).
Although it said on a site website that you could hire an audio guide in English for the museum, the counter staff indicated that there were none available. Unfortunately, this deficiency was felt during the tour because there was a great lack of explanatory notes in English for the exhibits as well.
For a lot of people, outside China, the tour could be a very informative one, especially if your only prior knowledge of the last emperor of the ultimate Chinese (Qing) dynasty comes, for example, from a less than impeccable historical source such as films like Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor.
With the use of language aids or without them, exploring the physical structures of the former Manchukuo (Manchu State) Imperial Palace provides a fascinating insight into a dark chapter of official life in Dongbei under the Japanese military occupation of the 1930s and 1940s.
‘Emperor’ Pu-Yi, his ’empress’ and the rest of the royal family lived in grand accommodation at the behest of their Japanese masters. Notwithstanding that the Pu-Yi regime was a contrived one propped up by a foreign invader and effectively wielded very little actual power itself in the region, the elaborate parts of the whole, the palatial splendour, were certainly befitting of a royal palace. Pu-Yi’s residential quarters and that of his family were definitely on the de luxe end of comfortable.
The palace layout divides into two main sections, the royal family’s area and the regime’s administrative area. This second section was larger than I had anticipated, comprising the offices and buildings allocated to the phoney emperor’s apparatus of government, his secretariat and other administrative functions.
One of the most interesting and sought-out items in the museum’s exhibits is the personal vehicle which belonged to Pu-Yi, a 5.7m long black car✪ housed in its own (garage) section of the complex. The “king-sized” vehicle is quite a rare old 1930s auto, a famous “Bubble Car” – American made by the Park Automobile Co. There’s a little souvenir annex attached to the ‘garage’ for car enthusiasts to secure a momento.
The palace contains a lot of Pu-Yi paraphernalia and minutiae, personal items like his traditional ceremonial garb, his official uniforms, his BP device and his trademark circular spectacles. Wall photos and information extracts chart the last Chinese monarch’s story from the imperial palace to incarceration to rehabilitation and life as an ordinary private citizen.
The environs of the palace buildings are well worth a ramble through. Within the grounds are gardens which are charming if (or because) they are a bit quirky. Next to this is a fish pond with a fountain and rockeries. Close by there the emperor’s swimming pool, sans water and it’s tilework is in quite a poor, dilapidated state.
The outside feature of the palace that most captured my imagination though was below it: an air-raid shelter. The increasingly paranoid puppet monarch (no doubt alarmed by the fading fortunes of Japan in the world war) had his own underground bunker constructed. The rooms in the bunkers were grimly threadbare, starkly contrasting with the lavish living quarters of the palace above.
Elsewhere there apparently used to be a tennis court and a small golf course on the grounds. To leave the palace you need to go through an inner gate which looks like the exit, but it’s not, the actual exit going from the palace to the street is further down a hill. As you walk, to your right look for the palace’s horse racetrack (still operating, there was show-jumping happening while we visited). The entire perimeter of the palace is surrounded by high concrete and brick walls.
For the historical narrative of Japan’s Manchurian Puppet-State in the Thirties and Forties, refer to my June 2019 blog entry, Manchukuo: An Instrument of Imperial Expansion for the Puppet-masters of Japan
For Pu-Yi to end up as the joker in the pack of playing cards sold at the Puppet Emperor Palace Museum would seem to many in China to be a apt footnote to his story.
︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︵︹︹
✽ light rail but still heavy security…even though we were travelling only four stations on a city subway network, we still had to submit to the body wave scanners and screening process and the baggage through the electronic detection belt
✪ about seven metres in length
Chaoyang Jie, Art, Culture and History: A Street Worth Visiting in Shenhe District, Shenyang
Chaoyang Street in the Imperial Palace district of Shenyang, overshadowed by the proximity of the city’s most illustrious tourist drawcard, the Gu Gong Palace itself, doesn’t get the interest it perhaps deserves. Visitors to Shenyang tend to be drawn to Gu Gong and with equal magnetic force to the “shoppers’ paradise” of the Middle Street Pedestrian Mall. But if you divert some of that time to exploring Chaoyang Street, you might happily discover some less known little treats it has to offer.
Fengtian office of Southern Manchurian Railways (131 Chaoyang Street)
It’s hard to credit that this rundown building with its faded facade and peeling paintwork, and the roof vegetation, was once the Fengtian※ office of the powerful Japanese Southern Manchurian Railway organisation, known as Mantetsu. Japanese’s control of the railways network in China’s Northeast came about after Japan defeated Russia in the 1904-05 war. The railway line, running from Harbin in the north to Port Arthur (Lüshan) in the south, was acquired by the Japanese in 1906. The premises on Chaoyang Street were clearly still occupied and padlocked from the outside (apparently, currently a training centre for a children’s library system). However, the organic outgrowth of the roof resembling someone’s unkempt backyard, suggested that the property was not a candidate for the local tourist circuit.
Shenyang Huangchengli Cultural Industrial Park (129 Chaoyang Street)
Shenyang and Chaoyang Jie’s penchant for turning the ordinary and mundane into something fresh and different is ably illustrated by the makeover given this old industrial complex. Situated like the ex-Manchurian Railways depot in the 皇城社区 (Huangcheng neighbourhood), a narrow entrance lane from the street leads to a small square. A new project, still presently in the process of completion, is to transform what was a drab old industrial site into a visually more appealing urban landscape. An attractive and classy new arch adorns the entrance to the square and historically and culturally relevant murals and other artworks including elegant carved relief panels decorate the walls. A subject figuring prominently in the industrial park’s paintings is local celebrity and 1930s Dongbei martial strongman Marshal Zhang (“the younger”). The artistic facelift of the old industrial complex on Chaoyang Street is a refreshing innovation in Shenyang, but one for which the city has precedents, eg, Shenyang’s 1905 Cultural and Creative Park taps into that same artistic and aesthetic potential for transforming a depressed industrial wasteland.
Marshal Zhang Mansion (Shaoshuaifu Alley, off Chaoyang Street)
Marshal Mansion, located down a short lane off Chaoyang Street, is the former residence of the “Two Zhangs”, Northeast warlords from the Chinese Republic era – father Zhang Zuolin and son Zhang Xueliang. The mansion now a museum comprises several buildings connected by courtyards. The main building, the family mansion itself, is neo-Gothic in style and is fronted by a body of large stones which have a prehistoric resemblance. The other buildings include an amalgam of different architectural styles (eg, traditional Siheyuan buildings, South China pavilions and Chinese–Western mixed styles). There’s lots of military stuff and a good collection of material and photos from the younger Zhang’s life after his fall from power and emigration to Hawaii. Other items of interest at the museum include the Zhang family carriage used to ferry the Zhang kids to school, and one of China’s very earliest motor vehicles. Admission is ¥60 adult and ¥30 concession.
Former Zhang residence–cum–museum
For more on Marshal Zhang Mansion go to
https://www.7dayadventurer.com/2019/11/01/shenyangs-house-of-the-marshal-zhangs/
Time Enjoyably and Harmlessly Misspent in Lǚshùn: Part I
Lǚshùn, Lüshan, Lvshunov (旅顺) – variations of nomenclature for a settlement with a long, multinational history as highly prized first-rate port and a key strategic location on the Northeast coast of Asia. For some tourists, Lǚshùn is merely a peninsula appendage to a trip to Dalian, Liaoning’s second city. Popular for visitors from China, Russia and Japan – at the crossroads of the three differing cultures – and for anyone, anywhere, interested in the modern history of the region.
But for those less interested in the story of the North Asian powers’ struggle for supremacy in Port Arthur (Lǚshùn’s former name under the Russians), there are plenty of other diversions and attractions to fill in a day in the Lǚshùn area. Crossing that spectacular, breathtaking bridge that separates Dalian from Lǚshùn, passing some impressive modern residential monoliths (obviously a lot of new estates cropping up recently), we made not for Lǚshùn’s history-soaked prison or museum…our first stop was at a submarine base at the ports with a large aged submarine in pride of place. On first sighting the displayed veteran U-boat I was initially under the misapprehension that it was a Japanese World War 2 sub left behind by the Japanese Navy or perhaps captured by the Chinese at the war’s end (a sort of spoils of war on show won from the vanquished foe)※
On taking the tour through the permanently moored submarine (opened for inspection at both ends of the craft), I soon realised I was wide of the mark. This was in fact a Chinese naval submarine, a Type-033 submarine actually (which is probably quite significant detail to your average, obsessed submarine aficionado)※. And the whole enterprise, known as the Lushun Submarine Museum (established 2015), is a new feature for China (the country’s first museum to exhibit naval military culture).
The other attraction at the museum vying with the ex-service sub is a submarine simulation exhibit, a room devoted to recreating a realistic'(sic) submarine cruise. Severe looking naval servicemen man the entrance, herding waves of visitors in and out in regimented fashion. The tightly packed paying punters in the room jockey for the best posy to take pictures of the ‘demo’: comprising the virtual submarine, with its commander barking orders to his crew, steering a safe sea-course between a host of pop-up enemy frigates while notching up the odd warship ‘kill’ itself…in effect a large scale video game on a super-wide screen with all the bells and whistles, not to mention the “real-life” sound and lighting effects to conjure up the appropriate atmosphere.
After the Submarine Centre we were ready for a more hands-on 3D animation (or at least that was the view of the tour organisers). We piled out of the bus and into what ostensibly was a commercial building. Inside we were led to a room to indulge our inner-nine-year-old in a video game. We were equipped with sonic “ray guns” (or whatever the equivalent current millennial term is) and invited to pretend that we were riders on an out of control roller coaster. Our seats rocked and rolled violently tossing us to and fro…we sat there immovable, gaining what vicarious pleasure we could muster by ‘zapping’ 10,000 demons each, only to find ourselves desperately trying to dodge the infinite number of remaining malevolent dragons, zombies and other miscellaneous monsters hurtling towards us without respite. Most of the adult Chinese tourists seemed to be totally captivated by the virtual “make-believe” alternate universe, whereas for me it was, at the least, a novel, “one-off” experience, considering I am someone with no interest in ‘civilised’ computer games, let alone ever contemplated visiting a fantasy arcade venue to play games of a unrelentingly violent nature.
Gamers’ central 
⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛⏛※ the eponymous Lushunkov actually dates from 1962, not quite WWII but obviously totally antiquated by modern naval technology warfare standards
Rah, Rah Russian Street, A Commercial Tourist Vestige of Russified Dalian
Russian Street (Russian Lu), or as it is sometimes rendered, Russian Style Street or Russian Custom Street, is a lingering reminder of the days the city of Dalian was an outpost of Moscow. Today the connexion to an erstwhile Russia is most visually embodied in this single street to the north of Shengli Qiào (Shengli Bridge), near Dalian’s Xigang district.
The start of the street is marked by (what I imagine was once a very grand but what is these days) a large, aged Russian mansion. A sign in front of it proclaims the Russian heritage, русский. Russian Street is a longish, commercial street (with a short side lane appended to it) near the city ports. Rows of stalls line up on the inside of the street in front of the bricks and mortar shop buildings. It’s a street restricted to pedestrian traffic, although this in no way hinders the bike and scooter riders and the odd delivery van with its Russian goods.
Virtually all of Russian Street’s gift shops sell more or less identical merchandise – moon cakes in highly decorative boxes, inexpensive bars of Russian chocolate (going at 10CN¥)✺, jewellery and opals, decorative lighters, toy weapons, tanks and missile launchers❂, and above all, rows and rows of the famous Matryoshka dolls (also commonly called Babushka dolls), so many that they they were almost spilling out into the street. I noticed that China’s Matryoshka dolls are more orthodox than the kind I found in Moscow, where the vendors with unbridled commercial zeal were fast at it selling all manner of variations on the dolls-within-dolls theme (Vladimir Putin dolls, Barack Obama dolls, Lady Gaga dolls, Elvis dolls, and so on ad nauseam).
Half-way down there’s a authentic Russian pectopaH (restaurant)…a lot of visitors don’t venture much further than this point and it’s a good deal less busy than than the Shengli bridge end. Russian Custom Street ends at a roundabout with a large official-looking building of state, there are a couple of small coffee shops and a number of food outlets spread out along the thoroughfare.
Russian Street in 2019 conveys what is at best a superficial nod of recognition of the Russian presence in Dalian that was at its influential height some 120 years ago. Like that other (northern) Chinese town Harbin, Russian Street, Dalian, retains a Russian feel with bi-lingual street signage, but it doesn’t quite match the sense of “Russification” which Harbin leaves visitors with.
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
✺ in Dalian’s summer swelter, they are definitely of the “eat them before they melt” kind
❂ toys of a military orientation are extremely popular throughout Dongbei, a fixation I imagine which extends countrywide (a very 1960s-1970s echo of Western predilections)
Tracing the Japanese footprint in Dalian – Qiqa Street
The Empire of Japan occupied the cities of Dalian and Lüshan (or Lvshunkou)※ and in fact a large chunk of China’s North-East for almost the entire first-half of the 20th century. Even now, nearly seventy-five years after the Japanese were vanquished from Chinese Manchuria, travelling around the Liaodong Peninsula, you can readily find the imprint of their former presence.
A conspicuously heinous reminder of the Japanese connection with Dalian (Dairen to the Japanese) and the peninsula can be found at Port Arthur (renamed Ryojun by Japan after its victory in the 1904-05 war with Russia). Specifically this can be seen in the former Russian-built Japanese Prison (now a museum) with its “hanging wall” and other torture devices used by the Japanese Kwantung army against Chinese.
There are other threads linking Dalian to its Japanese (and of course to Russia⍟), but while in Dalian I took time to visit a part of the city with much less unsavoury and more positive connotations of the former Japanese occupancy. We took a taxi from the city centre to a fairly lengthy street called Qiqa Street, not far from the Midtown area…this street is a quaint reminder of Japanese influence and imprint on the city.
Walking along it, I can’t say that much of the architecture in this street looks particularly Japanese in appearance, although to be fair we only had time to explore the western end of the street. The street dog-legs right at one point and heads east for quite a number of blocks in Zhongshan district. However, on our abridged tour we did see a number of Japanese businesses – eateries, hairdressers, and other shops – as the presence of Japanese characters on a number of the shopfronts testify. At least one block of the street has a concentration of these shops with eateries such as the pint-sized JoJo’s Tea (light Japanese meals, run by Chinese staff).
Qiqa Lu also has several buildings unrelated to Japanese culture or cuisine including a Chinese government building and the equivocally named “Paparazzi Who’s the Murderer? This commercial entity comprises a red telephone box at the front of the premises. When you lift the receiver, a metal door to the left swings open to reveal ….? I remain ignorant as to the raison d’être of Paparazzi Who’s the Murderer? Is it a bar, a nightclub, is it a mystery/crime-themed theatre-restaurant? Having not ventured inside, I guess the answer will remain elusive….
▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓
※ Dalian known as “Dairen” by the Japanese
⍟ Port Arthur, prior to the Russo-Japanese War was home to Tsarist Russia’s Pacific fleet
A Rural Hot Springs Resort, Dandong District Style
Before leaving Dandong altogether for the southern Liaoning Peninsula and Dalian, we took to the country for a couple of days R & R. On a recommendation we went to Fengcheng for a taste of the Dandong type of hot springs resort.
From the advanced publicity I had envisaged a Chinese version of some kind of swanky, luxurious modern resort complex surrounded by flowing meadows, undulating hills, wooded forest* and a pleasant babbling brook. Imagine my disappointment when we arrived to discover nothing resembling a health farm or even an ashram exuding the enlightenment of the Bhagavistawama.
The ‘resort’ was in the middle of the township…a dusty side-street off the main drag, it was a series of rundown, crumbling, grimy buildings not suggesting the hot springs country recuperator I was picturing on the way there.
Not a terrorist attack but a sighter of the free entertainment available from the resort’s room windows
The rooms were equipped with a brace of hot tubs (large, deep bathtubs really) and apparently there were hot springs below the ground pumping up thermal water. I couldn’t personally verify the bona fides of the springs’ healing powers but I took it at face value. In any case, even if the medicinal therapeutic benefits lacked evidence, it was very welcome just to relax and unwind for an hour or so each day in the heated tub. On my travels in China I haven’t encountered many baths in the hotels and appartments I have stayed in.
The local hairdressers’, in better nick than the ‘resort’
Even if it didn’t measure up to my (Western) understanding of a de luxe country hot springs resort, I have to admit that it was certainly a bargain deal and tariff: three meals a day (with the owner family experiencing authentic local tucker at varying odd times), two rooms plus the hot tub facilities for ¥150 per night. Although when the plumbing burst at 3am one night and we ended up almost up to our ankles in water that may or not been from the springs, I did have some fleeting, momentary doubts about our choice. But this can happen anywhere at any time, so I passed it off as part of the experience.
Don’t get me wrong, while the resort’s surface appearance and location may not have not been exactly the ticket, and about as far from a top-of-the-range rural resort you can get, the town and surrounding countryside of Fengcheng did have a certain attraction. A sleepy little Chinese backwater hamlet during the day, takes on a lively night-time ambience with the constant blare of street music reverberating up and down the main street of the town.
Fengcheng’s natural environs (just a leisurely stroll from the built-up area) have a lot to offer in the way of walks through wilderness, viewing pleasant rivers and streams and some dazzling local fauna. All in all our brief sojourn in Fengcheng was a chill-out, low-key diversion from the urban tourist trail. 
Fengcheng, Liaoning province, is about 35 miles or so north-west of the city of Dandong
_____________________________________________
* the best kind of forest!