China Tour: Part 5 - Heilongjiang (Harbin, Mohe, Arctic Village)

Last but not least, Heilongjiang. The Great North of China.

This was another whirlwind of a trip, this time to Dad’s 老家 Old Home, 漠河。And again, I could not have anticipated or prepared for the impact of this journey—not just the warmth, hospitality, and open familiarity of my relatives, but also how everything, everything about this land, its people, its memory, collective memory, personal memory—how all of it shook me to the core. Ignited, awakened, recalled something in me. Ineffable. Tender. Profound.

From the moment the plane started descending into Mohe, when I saw the expanse of evergreens, that birds-eye-view of the sweeping hills, the sense of breadth, of space—vast, young, soft, almost cushiony to the touch, the resonance of these birch trees, the deep-green forests—I just started sobbing uncontrollably. (Later, I found out that indeed the forest was a baby. All this new growth happened in the last few decades after the great 1987 Black Dragon fire, the deadliest forest fire in China).

Somehow—I felt this land so instinctively. I could remember, imagine, see these pines covered in snow, hibernating in the winter silence. I could, somehow, place all the stories I’ve heard about this land now in its rightful place.

This is where mom and dad got married. This tiny northernmost city of China. This is where my dad’s mother, 奶奶，this most soft-spoken, gentlest, kindest matriarch of a patiently, slowly, wisely moving soul, this is where she fearlessly migrated at 20 years-old from her own old home of Shandong all the way up to this foreign, uncharted land and made a life for herself, her siblings, and three generations to follow. She made these roots. She planted them, watered them, fought for them. Through every winter, every spring.

I really am, simply, at the core, a spirit of the North. I realize. Realized. Immediately. I understood this place. In such a different way, deeper way, than when I visited Hunan (or even Beijing/Langfang). Somehow, I felt exactly where I was supposed to be. It was the same. Same as where I grew up—same latitude, same weather, same winter, same trees. The Great North. Canada, China, same. Edmonton, Harbin, same. Sister cities. No wonder.

Here, I felt something stir inside me that said, home home. I belong here. This is me. This is why, me. Of course, my blood relatives are still here, those are roots. Of course, there are still houses, buildings, schools my grandparents taught at, general stores they went to for 50 years and still running, those are also roots, deep, firm, strong. But, there are also the simple details too easily overlooked—the breakfast millet congee小米粥, the fluffy tofu baozi豆腐包子, all the Dongbei dishes东北菜, the thick blankets warmed by big stoves underneath火炕, all the northerner habits, customs, hospitality (endless 50+% alcohol Baijiu白酒🍶…they say ‘if you’re not completely drunk when you get on the flight back, then your northerner hosts haven’t done their job!)

This whole visit was so precious. Even that it happened was a last minute surprise made possible by all parties involved, wanting to spend this brief yet cherished time together. Originally we were planning to just stay in Harbin for 3 nights, but grandma and grand-uncle made special rearrangements to get back to their Old Home in Mohe earlier than originally planned just to receive us and personally take us around to visit grandma’s old stomping grounds.

This was more meaningful than any sightseeing we would’ve done ourselves—to be with grandma. To spend one day that unravels decades of living memories—that first hotpot lunch lasting 3 hours and 1 bottle of baijiu, where I’ve never seen her that chirpy and happy, retelling (with grand-uncle’s help recalling/straightening a few details in her memories) the story of her life. Really. From how she grew up in a little village in Shandong and how brilliant she was as a young girl, intelligent, artistic, determined, beautiful, bright (she could sing, play instruments, make crafts), to how she got married and trusted in my grandfather to uproot her life and move so far away (at that time, going up north to Dongbei was as out there and challenging for them as my parents immigrating to Canada)! How she became a teacher, a director, and a 核心 core for her family and the entire local community.

These stories were not just stories. They opened up portals I never knew existed.

It was inspiring, touching, invigorating. To hear these snippets, big and small, to be walking on the land where they happened, see grandma show us her old home, see her talk to the neighbour that she lived by 50 years ago, the store she went everyday to get groceries, watch the younger generation remember her and bow to her with so much respect and admiration as the then-leader of their village—this is her place, her family and community built through daily work, daily love and sweat. How awing. That I am part of this lineage. That I am the granddaughter or such incredible women. 奶奶姥姥both.

Ah, and along the way, the fun we had too—with granduncle and uncle, exploring the Arctic Village, hearing their crazy stories about how they trapped a bear with the boys, butchered and sold parts of the bear to everyone in the village, cut down giant trees by hand, shot wild deer, caught giant river trout by hand… Not sure how many of those tales were true to life, but-!

We dipped in the Heilongjiang river, ate fresh Heilongjiang river catfish, drank way too much, looked all evening at old photos (that was precious, seeing those faded black and white faded pictures of all these relatives, my dad’s side of the family, my dad when he was young, mom and dad grinning when they were my age…), ate watermelon and nuts, ate dumplings and Dongbei red sausage and smoked tofu skin that tasted like Lebanon bologna…it was an intensely emotional 24 hours. At the end, these big (drunken) northern men were just in tears as they waved us off at the airport, literally until they couldn’t see us past the security line anymore.

I really was moved. To truly, earnestly feel this sense of connection. To begin to understand, even just a little, what it means when I say, “find to my roots”. Where I came from. Who I came from. To touch, and smell, and taste the land. To sit beside these people, to listen, to share a meal, to feel the warmth, the time, the accumulation of meaning that I, little Tongtong, go on carrying.

And so, that’s the wrap. For the China tour. Four impressions, five regions visited. Each so astonishingly powerful. Each so different yet, somehow—same, same. Necessary, profound, simple. I have grown so much through all of this. Learned so much. Struggled so much. Gained perspectives, understandings that could otherwise never been fathomable. A newfound appreciation, a newfound truth.

Pathways, connections, memories unlocked.

A magical, real journey.

And the blessing remains, as I’ve started by saying—

Little infinities, here’s to giving it back,
note by note, word by word, heart by heart.

xoxo

Thank you again, everyone who made this trip possible.

All my relations,

Wang Tong

王通