With Apologies to Tianjin: I

Tianjin is not included on the major must-see sites of China. The city is big and sprawling, suffers from dust and air pollution, and lacks major historical, cultural or scenic sites. Yet, it provides a window into the future development of China that is perhaps larger than those available elsewhere. It was one of China’s first cities to industrialize—telegraphs, trolleys and telephones all came to Tianjin early. Despite this, it retains a strong, unmistakable Chinese character to its street life. Its affluence and long exposure to other nations promote a rich and cosmopolitan cultural life. In many of these respects, it compares favorably with Beijing and Shanghai, although it lacks the excitement and vibrancy of those cities.

In my first blog, I wrote that Tianjin could be translated as ‘heavenly spit.’ That was unfair. While Chinese characters are always subject to multiple interpretations, the city’s name is generally traced to a legendary ferry (or jin) crossing made by the Ming Emperor, Cheng zu, or Son of Heaven (Tian) in 1403. It was no more than a village then when the Emperor recognized its strategic importance as sea port and a terminal on the Grand Canal. (The Canal brought grain to the north from southern China.) Designated a garrison town after the Emperor’s crossing, Tianjin grew rapidly in the middle of the river delta where the Grand Canal joins the Hai He river. Even today, Tianjin is notable for its many ponds and canals and the silting dust swirling in from the north.

I was struck when I arrived by the obsessive cleaning the staff gave the floors in the apartment building, their spaghetti mops swishing from side to side down the long corridors every morning. I soon began to notice down every street the mops left to dry, hanging over walls or out of windows. Equally remarkable was the frequency with which the streets and sidewalks themselves were swept.

In less than a week, I noticed a fine layer of dust covering the floors of my suite. No sooner did I sweep or mop it up than it reappeared, even when I kept the drafty windows closed. When winter arrived, the fine dirt was joined by a thin layer of coal dust, a product of the city’s many coal-burning stoves. (Coal is pressed into cylindrical cakes which fit neatly within the stoves; vendors pushing wagon-loads down the city’s streets are a familiar sight.)

Tianjin is making a conscientious effort to reduce its energy consumption, especially from carbon fuels, and improve its air quality. When I first arrived, the Balitai campus was limiting the hot water from its coal burning boiler to several hours in the morning and evening. (After the boiler was converted to electricity, we were allowed lukewarm water 24/7—what luxury.) Central heating is not turned on here (or anywhere in China) until November 15^th. Several years ago, gasoline burning motorcycles were banned in Tianjin and now hapless pedestrians must be even more alert as the electric powered vehicles approach them silently from behind. What’s more, energy efficient fluorescent bulbs are used everywhere.

At the same time, windows and doors in heated buildings are left ajar on even the coldest days to bring in fresh air—many Chinese still believe that fresh air prevents winter colds. City buses in need of a tune-up belch exhaust fumes. And cars—many with but one occupant—are crowding out the bicycles in Tianjin. (Last fall, Tianjin participated in ‘no car day,’ but only a handful of streets were closed to automobiles.)

As elsewhere in China, the streets are notable for their abundant life and activity. Girls offer free samples of tea and soft drinks from sidewalk stands, food vendors are found at every bus stop, Muslim men push carts laden with mounds of dried fruits down the streets, illegal markets (in bicycles and who knows what) are found near major intersections (under the watchful eye of the city’s police), bicycle repair men sit at every corner with a bowl of water for testing leaking tires and a greasy box of tools and parts, and men and women peddle their carts through the neighborhoods crying out for used wood, paper, plastic bottles and other recyclables. There are cricket vendors with large clusters of straw cages, sellers of gold fish sit among bowls of their wares, and puppies wait in small cages for someone to give them a home. You can even get a street-side pedicure.

In the parks, people dance at night, boys roller blade, middle aged men gamble in noisy clusters, and old men fly the kites for which Tianjin is famous. In summer, there’s ping pong and Tai ji quan. There’s fishing in every canal and river, and ice skating and a peculiar form of ‘ice chairing’ in winter. Boards of

Chinese chess are set up wherever there’s a flat surface and two places to sit. And older men can be found in many neighborhoods with their birds, some of which are trained to retrieve seed flung high

into the air above them. Men practice calligraphy with large brushes on the sidewalks. And groups of young people play a kind of badminton in which a brightly feathered shuttle is kept aloft with skillful kicks. Even mourning is a public affair; white suited family can be viewed sitting outside the home of the departed dwarfed by enormous floral displays.

The sidewalks are crowded, not only with pedestrians, but with parked bicycles, motorcycles and automobiles—only a few stores have parking lots or garages as yet. These areas are marked with string

and carefully guarded by the woman or man whose concession—and livelihood—they are. And everywhere there are signs of construction, some of it still labor intensive.

It is a restless city and one which is changing rapidly. I suspect much of the street life will disappear within the next decade or so. Already the Tianjanese report that the food vendors are disappearing, going the way of the ni ren makers and other street craftsmen who are largely a memory now. As more air conditioned, generously sized apartments are constructed, the need to escape into the streets will diminish and privacy—historically suspect in China—will become affordable and normal. A generation raised on television, DVDs and the internet, moreover, are likely to forego public, social recreation as they grow older.