Harbin - White Splendour

Even as adults, we all at some stage of our lives dream of ice castles, princes and mythical golden chariots. An enchanted winter wonderland with all the trimmings. Where reindeers pull carriages and magic carpets fly overhead. Where the thrill of white splendour numbs any sensations of cold. Where one’s breath creates wishes and each one comes true. Where the Snow Goddess watches over all with tenderness and wisdom. All seemingly unreal and beyond our realm of existence. 

However, on one fine winter’s day, deep in the north-eastern part of China, in the province of Heilongjiang to be exact, Debbie and I reached out and turned the dream into a reality. Having said that, in our newfound wonderland, the absence of princes was noticeable. Although the taxi drivers we encountered were very kind, caring people and did in fact, come to our rescue more than once. As for flying carpets, it was I, who did the flying – low-level, over solid ice – as I slipped and skidded seemingly over every available surface in Harbin.

The reindeers were very real. In fact, quite beautiful. Although a wee bit skinny. As were the many dozens of Santas with their jet-black hair and Asian eyes. Our wishes certainly did come true with every breath we took. Whilst skidding around on ice, experiencing painful thigh muscles, we desired mugs of piping hot chocolate. This too, became a reality. Although in a slightly different form. The horribly weak black coffee served at the internationally famous fast-food restaurant on ice offered our weary, frozen bodies some form of diluted comfort. 

That night we sat huddled in huge comfortable chairs, which engulfed us in their warmth. Surrounded by memories from an era past, nostalgic music wafted through the room. Delicious hot Russian food lay before us. Our bodies, tired. Our hearts silently bursting with contentment and a sense of accomplishment. In our right hands – a glass of Russian beer. The golden liquid glistening before our eyes, waiting to be consumed. Its only task - to fill our every cell with the sensation of deep ease. Thereafter, enormous comfortable beds, heated rooms, boiling hot showers and deep, peaceful slumber awaited us. Dreams do come true. Of this, I am certain.

A  déjà vu experience from bygone years began in earnest as we found ourselves standing outside the vast central train station, situated off  Jiangguomenwai – the impressive multi-lane road leading past Tiananmen Square. The night was cold. We were well prepared. Layers of clothing kept us warm. The excitement of getting out of Beijing for a few days and of what we were to encounter, added to that warmth.

Making our way through the sea of humanity to the departure hall brought back floods of memories. The masses constantly staring at us. An uncomfortable sensation and one which I thought had been a thing of the past. Suddenly we were surrounded by many of our  long-lost-best-friends-ever. They took photos. We made the victory sign. Of course we did. A photo was meaningless without the double victory sign dominating all poses. There were endless photo shoots punctuated with, “You are my best friend today.” They asked who was the older sister. I laughed with delight. Debbie grimaced. Sitting tightly pressed against each other, under the intense scrutiny of hundreds, Debbie and I felt both amusement and unease. What had once held novel magic years before, was now daunting. The crowd did not remove their gaze for a second for fear of missing something the two blonde laowai may come up with.

It was hot and oppressive in that colossal hall. Hundreds of heaters spewed recycled air fused with the hot breath from thousands of travellers. I cringed at the thought of the airborne diseases bolting around us. To keep my imagination from creating monsters in my head, I focussed on the many incredible and often amusing scenes playing out before us.

Monks dressed in saffron robes wafted amongst the crowds. Bringing with them an ethereal mantle under which the frenzied madness of the evening pulsated. They formed a queue to board the many trains waiting on the frozen tracks outside. Above their heads, neon lights beamed down on the sign which read, ‘The Love Channel.’ Hawkers sold fake phones in the presence of the law. Bending their heads, not in shame, but with a sense of urgency. Toddlers ran around in the traditional split-pants. Revealing bare bottoms. Travellers sat in silence with bowls of piping hot instant noodles clutched between cold hands. Wondering quietly to myself, what exactly it is that entices us into these situations. 

I was grateful for Debbie’s Mandarin skills. And for her appearance too. She made an impressive entrance in the completely overwhelming hallway where the thronging masses caught their first glimpse of her. Everyone was suddenly more than happy to direct us to the correct departure gate. 

To be continued ...