June, 2023

Tianjin is one of those gigantic Chinese cities that ignorant Westerners like me have never heard of.  About 14 million people live here: it’s one of the 4 cities in China which are not under a provincial government (the others being Shanghai, Beijing and Chongqing).

During the Qing Dynasty, Tianjin fell under foreign influence as a Treaty port, thanks to some less than noble activities of the British and French, and various concessionary parts of the town given over to foreign powers, including Britain, France, Italy and others.

These influences left a number of architectural influences in the zone that used to be these concessions. These days this area is known as the “Five Great Avenues” (五大道;) and is a tourist attraction, complete with horse-drawn carriages taking people around to look at the old European-style buildings.

It was not on my to-do list, having never heard of the place, but it turned out to be more or less equidistant from my posting in Xi’an and my friend Rita’s new job, so a convenient place for us to meet up and say our goodbyes before I left China.

We parked up and strolled around the 5 Great Avenues. It was indeed reminiscent of some Parisienne arrondissement in some places, leafy Mitteleuropa suburbia in others: all slanted roofs and orange tiles.

We tried a local dish called Jianbing. As mentioned elsewhere, I’m whatever is the opposite of a foodie, so I can’t provide any meaningful discourse on the subject, except to say it was reminiscent of French crepes: perhaps another influence from that time in history.

Wandering around, we found an interesting structure shaped rather like a stadium. Inside there was an interpretive museum which explained that it was indeed built as a stadium, designed by “British Olympic medalist Li Airui”.

I struggled to think who this might be: Harry Lee? Who’s that?

It turned out to be Eric Liddell, the Scottish sprinter immortalised in the film Chariots of Fire, who was born in Tianjin, it turns out, to missionary parents. He was educated in the UK and won the 400 metres gold in the 1924 Paris Olympics, despite it not being his best distance. As a devout Christian he refused to run in the heats for his favoured 100m, because they were held on a Sunday.

It may or may not have happened exactly like that, but it doesn’t seem like the sort of things the Chinese would just make up. 

Liddell died in the camp, just months before its liberation. He was fondly remembered by the other inmates. His coffin was carried out by the children that he had spent the past few years teaching and ministering to. 

It’s nice to see him being memorialised by his adopted homeland in this way: something positive that came out of that dark period in Chinese history. A film has been made about his life in China, On Wings of Eagles, which I must look out for. 

Rita’s friend who had shared the driving to Tianjin suggested going to the rock museum next.

Not as in rock music, but as in actual rocks.

It did not elicit any enthusiastic yes from me, but perhaps it should have done: it was a surprisingly engaging little exhibition, apparently largely drawn from the life’s hobby of a local bureaucrat who spent his free time collecting interesting stones.

Rocks that were shaped like other things. Rocks that had pattens in them that resembled other things. Rocks that resembled the yin-yang symbol. Many of them were placed alongside sculptures that accentuated the shape that they were said to resemble.

It was a charming and diverting way to spend an hour or two, so credit to Rita’s friend.

We spilled out onto a street market. A guy was selling old Chinese comic books (manhua), which I couldn’t resist: I got a few episodes of Journey to the West and Romance of the Three Kingdoms in pictorial form, and Rita got me a book about San Mao (3 Hairs) – a sort of Chinese Charlie Brown, who lives a poverty-stricken life in 1940s Shanghai.

Next up was a woman selling knitted flowers. Rita was humming and hawing about getting a large rose, or some smaller items, and the woman visibly shoved her pretty young daughter in to close the deal. She enthusiastically tried to sell us pretty much everything they had on display, and some things they didn’t. In the end we walked away with a couple of trinkets, and I hope that was enough to satisfy the mother, who was eyeing proceedings matriarchally. 

Sunset, and we took a stroll down by the Hai River, a popular spot. The warm summer night was filled with smells of street food, and the laughter of young people who had had the same idea as us. The large ferris wheel (“The Tianjin Eye”) was illuminated, and gave a spectacular backdrop. Fishermen dozed by the shores, the water illuminated with their green, blue and yellow LED lights. 

I had no expectations of Tianjin, arriving there utterly ignorant of it, but left a fan of the place: some interesting, cosmopolitan history and what looks like a bright future for this rapidly developing city, with all the other benefits of China, where I’d simply got used to everything being safe, orderly and well-maintained. 

Recommended as a destination if you’re in the neighbourhood, which you are if you’re in Beijing.