Reminiscences 2025
I had time between the end of my Korea ventures and the arrival of the IWU May Term trip that I planned to join. What better way to spend it than to travel to Manchuria, once part of Korea (according to my Korean friends), and given to China as a reward for helping the Koreans fight off the Japanese centuries ago.
Besides, Harbin fascinated me, as the center of Russia interest and emigres following the Revolution. Located at the junction of the Chinese Eastern Railroad (which cut straight through Manchuria to Vladivostok, shaving miles off following the Amur–I prefer Black Dragon River, the Chinese name–which is the border) and what had been the South Manchurian Railroad, straight to Port Arthur and the rest of China.
I landed in Harbin, ready to stay at the somewhat seedy old colonial hotel, the Modern. I realized how seedy it was when a lady of the day (and probably night) approached me. “You speak English,” she asked? “Yes.” ” I want to learn English, can I come to your room? Where are you staying?” I told her the Modern, at which point she pouted, and told me that when I stayed at a good hotel…..I wonder if she ever learned English.
Harbin had a certain Russian charm; though the emigres who flocked there in the 20s and 30s are long gone, some buildings remain to mark the past; Russian being perhaps the most important and lasting. A small town ballooned up by its prominence as the headquarters of the Chinese Eastern and South Manchurian Railroads, and its proximity to Russia. At one time 
there were an estimated 400,000 Russians in Harbin. Japanese occupation followed. Then Soviet conquest and a year under Soviet rule (which meant many white Russians were deported or fled elsewhere). What’s left was the old train station, a magnificent church (now restored from its use as a stable during the Cultural Revolution), the Sungari waterfront, and a street full of buildings from another era.
I learned early traveling in China to find someone going where you were going, too. Since most announcements are unintelligible, it helped to stay near a person who had better command of Chinese. That may be how I managed to get from Harbin to Shenyang, which used to be Mukden in the old days. I had a long day there, which was a holiday.
Shenyang was a treat, with a “Forbidden City” on a human scale. Apparently, the Manchu’s practiced before 1644 what it would be like to rule China, and built a Manchu-type palace area that had some adaptations. It was exciting to find a docent who could understand my Chinese as we bantered about the best looking Phoenix (empress). The tombs of the first Manchu emperors were here, rather than in Beijing, and I believe I also
saw the headquarters of Zhang Tsuo-lin, the long-time warlord of
Manchuria.
A crisis erupted when I realized that I was supposed to pick up tickets to get to Beijing–but the agency was closed for the holiday. When I went to the train station, I somehow negotiated the purchase of a hard sleeper ticket to Beijing, where I would join my IWU colleagues. Getting on the train, I realized I had an evening booked on the top bunk (of 3) in a compartment where I was the only English speaker. When I remembered that I had sought “adventure,” I realized one should be careful about what one asks.
When I woke up again, I was in Beijing, ready to rejoin more familiar faces in more familiar places. But no longer an Imperial Manchu.