Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

February 2010. 

After six months of living and teaching in Beijing, I was more than ready for a break from work—and for an adventure. Life in the capital had been eventful, often chaotic and stressful, as I’ve detailed in my short story collection Challenged in China!

Indeed, that grand, rambling trip I’d taken through Shandong Province in the summer of 2009 already felt like a lifetime ago. My feet were itching, my wanderlust calling. As for where to go, the choice was obvious, nothing even came close. It definitely had to be Harbin in Heilongjiang Province, home to the world’s largest and most spectacular ice sculpture festival.

Predictably, the school principal Trudy was unimpressed with my travel plans. “You shouldn’t go there” she said, looking concerned. “Harbin is very cold, it is not a good choice”. Naturally, I told her all about the world-famous ice and snow sculpture festival. About its Siberian Tiger Park, Russian cathedral and Buddhist temples. But it all fell on deaf ears, because Harbin was “cold” you see.  

Unfortunately, the trip did not get off to a good start. While everything was fine with my two-hour flight, disaster soon struck as the taxi dropped me off at my booked lodgings, Little Fir International Youth Hostel.

I knew I’d taken something of a risk when I booked this dirt-cheap accommodation, though I certainly wasn’t prepared for just how much of a crap hole it turned out to be. Until, that is, I arrived at the main entrance with its appalling “welcome” mat.

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

What followed was truly one of the worst hostels I’ve ever been to. Right up there with the dreadful hostel in Tianjin and the famous shithole in Agra, India. First came the rude woman at reception who treated me as if I were something murky she had just discovered at the bottom of her shoe. Then there was my room, a filthy cupboard that had no heating and a few sheets of worn-out cardboard for a mattress.

Reluctantly, I spent my first night at Little Fir before checking out the next morning. Not wanting to waste time or risk another disappointment, I booked an ensuite double in a charming four-star hotel right on Zhongyang Street, Harbin’s leafy pedestrian boulevard.

Having Zhongyang Street’s cobblestone charm right on my doorstep made all the difference. Stretching 1.4 kilometres from Xinyang Square to the banks of the Songhua River, the street has been at the heart of Harbin life since 1898, when businesses first sprang up to serve the Chinese Eastern Railway—an offshoot of the mighty Trans-Siberian network.

With the flourishing of the railway, Harbin grew into a thriving international hub, attracting thousands of Russians, Jews, and Japanese. Its commercial artery pulsed with diversity, while the cityscape became an eclectic showcase: sprawling office blocks and elegant homes rose in styles ranging from Renaissance and Baroque to Beaux-Arts and Art Nouveau.

Zhongyang Street.

The city suffered greatly during World War II and the Japanese occupation. Yet, even as most of Harbin’s Jewish and Russian communities fled, its architectural legacy remained largely intact.

The Soviets eventually drove out the Japanese, after which the Chinese communists took control. Decades later, in the mid-1980s, the government granted Zhongyang Street protected status, and in 1997, following a full restoration, it was unveiled as China’s first commercial pedestrian street.

The excitement of Chinese New Year filled every corner of the lantern-draped street. Shoppers posed with mascots from a Korean restaurant, while tourists gathered around miniature ice sculptures. Though Christmas had long passed, a towering tree still loomed over a bronze carriage and driver—a tribute to the city’s transport heritage.

Damn, it was cold—the coldest I’d ever felt in my then-tender 31 years. I was just wondering how low the mercury had sunk when I came across the Giant Thermometer Monument, part practical readout, part streetscape branding. It glared back at me: minus fifteen, the clock creeping toward 11 a.m

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

A short while later I came upon a small food market, which succeeded in reminding me how hungry I was. Though in truth none of the unusual snacks and finger bites on offer felt like a good choice for brunch.

Luckily, redemption was just around the corner in the form of Bomele 1931 Café. Breakfast—brunch, call it what you will—can often be a challenge in China, but this bakery café was among the best I’ve found on my travels.

Maybe it was the super-friendly girl behind the counter, or simply the joy of escaping the freezing cold for 45 minutes.

Either way, the coffee was hot and creamy, and my eclectic plate of pastries hit the spot: a mini hot dog sprinkled with pork floss, an egg custard tart, and a cherry-topped whipped cream bun. Because I was on holiday.

Bomele 1931 Cafe.

Back outside, I continued along Zhongyang Street. Of all the historic influences on display, it was the Russian presence that stood out most. Bookstores and art galleries still traded in the Russian language, while hole-in-the-wall canteens served up steaming bowls of borscht.

What’s more, just about every souvenir store stands packed from floor to ceiling with shelves of Matryoshka dolls.

Here and there, market vendors pedalled items of traditional Russian clothing, particularly the iconic ushanka fur hat with extendable ear flaps.

One vendor, no doubt keen to make a sale, was only too happy to let me try one on, pose for a photograph and generally horse around. And he didn’t even seem too fussed when I eventually walked away empty-handed.

If borscht-on-the-run doesn’t tempt in temperatures of minus fifteen (and falling), there was also a cosy sit-down restaurant called Cafe Russia 1914. Having never tried Russian cuisine, I thought what the heck, and came for dinner one evening.

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

Stuffed with art, antiques and curious bric-a-brac, the restaurant was brimming with old time Russian charm. Sadly the food wasn’t up to much, with small (quite possibly microwaved) portions of stew, borscht and beef dumplings falling to inspire. No wonder I forgot to take a photo.

The heart of Harbin’s Russian soul is found in the magnificent Saint Sophia Cathedral, crowned with its unmistakable green onion dome. First built in 1907, soon after the completion of the Trans-Siberian Railway, the church served the city’s burgeoning Russian community—some one hundred thousand strong at the time, nearly a third of Harbin’s entire population.

Having survived World War II, Chinese authorities decided to close the church down and use it as a warehouse during The Cultural Revolution. But by the mid 1980s there had been a change of heart, with the cathedral receiving  a protected status under the National Key Cultural Relic Unit.

That day, as I wandered through its dilapidated yet atmospheric halls, I found myself experiencing the cathedral in its reincarnated role as the Harbin Municipal Architecture & Art Museum. The modest but engaging exhibition guided visitors through the building’s many lives, its story unfolding across a series of evocative archival photographs.

Saint Sophia Cathedral.

At last I reached the northern end of Zhongyang Street, stepping onto the wide expanse of Flood Control Square. Overlooking the Songhua River, the plaza is dominated by the striking Flood Control Monument, a 22-metre granite tower erected in 1958 to honour the resilience of Harbin’s people in surviving the catastrophic floods of 1932 and 1957.

It was difficult to imagine such devastation on that day, as I gazed across the river—completely frozen, a glassy turquoise sheet with sunlight dancing over its surface. The city’s carnival spirit spilled onto the ice, where families skated, sledded, and laughed across waters that are normally murky and forbidding.

It was from here that I made my way over to Harbin’s fabulous Ice and Snow Festival. As one of my all-time China highlights from over four years in the country, it definitely deserves its own write up. Look out for that one next Sunday.

Late that night, still wired from the festival, I wandered back to Zhongyang Street to check out USA Bucks Bar—an over-the-top shrine to Uncle Sam. Over a bottle of Harbin (as watery as Snow, its only challenger for blandest beer on Earth), I fell into conversation with the bar’s eccentric owner.

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

Dressed like Marlon Brando in The Wild One, he greeted me with relentless handshakes and proudly showed off his kingdom, though his limited English left my questions about his inspiration unanswered. It was frustrating, because this guy clearly had a story or two to tell.

Imagine my surprise when, later that year, Mr. Jia Jihai appeared on Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations. In the episode, Bourdain visits USA Bucks Bar to meet the man behind the image and watch him perform karaoke. The two then head out for some ice fishing on the frozen Songhua. The episode can still be found online, though sadly USA Bucks has long since closed.

On my final morning in Harbin, before hailing a taxi to the airport, I set off from my hotel on foot to visit one of the city’s most celebrated temples. The walk carried me beyond the polished central district and onto dusty, hard-bitten roads where trucks and buses clattered past in endless streams.

 Amid the chaos, I noticed an old man on a bicycle, struggling beneath a mountain of cardboard bound for recycling. Or maybe to the sorry beds of Little Fir International Youth Hostel. Hemmed in by traffic, he teetered, his load threatening to topple him entirely.

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

For a moment he froze, drew an icy breath, steadied himself, and pressed on—soon vanishing between a roaring bus and a hulking lorry.

Known in Mandarin as the Temple of Bliss, Jile Temple sprang up between 1921 and 1924 under the guidance of Master Tanxu, one of modern China’s most renowned Buddhist monks. 

Photo courtesy of 朕邦萬広.

Though little known to overseas visitors, the temple is a magnet for domestic tourists. As the largest Buddhist temple in Heilongjiang Province, its entrance was a frenzy of worshippers, vendors, and beggars—several of whom made a determined beeline for me the moment I appeared.

Jile Temple.

Inside, I found a striking temple blending traditional Chinese Buddhist design with Tibetan and Manchurian flourishes. It was the coldest Harbin morning yet (around minus 19), so I joined the line of visitors warming their hands by open fires before lighting an incense stick.

Like many of Harbin’s historic landmarks, Jile Temple is a story of survival. It endured rival Buddhist sects and Japanese occupation, when its grounds remained active but under military rule. After the founding of the People’s Republic, monastic activity was restricted. Next, during the Cultural Revolution, worship was suspended altogether and most shrines and statues were defaced.

By the 1980s, China’s political storms had calmed, and a full restoration began. Today the complex stands proudly as one of the city’s most cherished heritage sites.

I wandered through its many halls, admiring the art, until a glance at my phone told me it was time to move on. My final stop was a statue of Bodhisattva Manjushri, embodiment of wisdom, seated on a blue lion—the symbol of wisdom’s power to conquer ignorance—his golden skin radiant with purity and enlightenment

Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin.

I guess some of that wisdom rubbed off. Instead of walking back, I opted to take a taxi to make sure I was well ahead of time for my flight back to Beijing. Cheers, Harbin.

Like this? Harbin also features in my short story Sub Zero Adventures.

Why not also take a look at my zillion reports from all around China.

Or my short story collection Challenged In China.

I’ve been living, working and traveling all over the world since 2001. So why not check out my huge library of travel reports from over 40 countries.