China

BEIJING

The Forbidden City was built in 1406-20 and served as the main imperial palace for the Ming and Qing dynasties for almost 500 years. The complex consists of around 980 buildings and is 961 metres from north to south and 753 metres from east to west. 

TIANJIN

St Joseph Cathedral was built in 1913-16 in the French concession area, using brick imported from France. It was the tallest building in Tianjin for around 80 years. The three towers were destroyed during the Cultural Revolution but was rebuilt in the 1980s. It is also known as Lao Xilai Catholic Church.

The Tianjin Tower, also known as Jin Tower or Tianjin World Financial Centre, is a 337-metre office skyscraper. It was built in 2007-11 to a design by Skidmore, Owings and Merrill. At the foot of the skyscraper can be seen a bridge across Haihe river. This was built in 2003-04 to a design by Deng Wenzhong. 

HANGZHOU

A laughing Buddha statue at the Feilang Feng grottoes at Lingyin temple. According to legend, the mountain into which the carvings were made flew from India to Hangzhou as demonstration of the power of Buddhist teachings. Most of it was created in the 10th century when the Lingyin monastery was at its peak. The monastery was originally founded in 328 and has been rebuilt many times. The current buildings are modern restorations of late Qing buildings. The temple includes an 800-year old Buddha statue as well as the largest wooden Buddha statue in China.  

QINGDAO

The governor's mansion was built in 1905-07 as the official residence of the German governor-general of Jiao'ao, referring to Jiaozhou bay. The area became German territory on a 99-year lease in 1898 though the Germans had shown interest in the area since 1860. It was taken over by the Japanese after WWI. The governor was reportedly fired due to the high cost of his mansion.

St Micheal's Cathedral was built by a German catholic missionary society called Divine Word Missionaries, which had been present in Shandong since 1882. A mission hall and chapel was completed in 1902 and there were originally plans for a gothic style church but this was disrupted by the German surrender of Qingdao in 1914. The project was picked up again in 1928 and building was completed in 1934. 

The Qingdao Protestant church was built in 1908-1910 to a design by architect Curt Rothkegel as Qingdao's parish church. It has previously been called the International church or the Qingdao Gospel Church. 

Construction of the 140-metre Qingdao Custom House began in 1992, according to information by skyscraperpage. The little building on the right is a restaurant.

There are few tall buildings in the oldest part of Qingdao, mostly situated around Zhongshan road. This includes the 213-metre Parkson plaza completed in 1998 (left). The other buildings appear to be a complex of bank buildings and a government building. 

Signal Hill in one of the 10 major hill parks in Qingdao and is named after a signalling station from the German colonial period. An observation pavilion offers 360 degree views of the city.

TAI SHAN

Tai Shan is the eastern of the of the sacred mountains recognised in Chinese culture as the five great mountains, destinations of pilgrimage and ritual sites of imperial worship. The mountains are mostly associated with Taoism and Buddhism, while two other separate groups of mountains are known as the four sacred mountains of buddhism and the four sacred mountains of taoism. Tai Shan has been a place of worship for at least 3000 years. The tallest peak is the Jade Emperor Peak. The largest temple complex in the area is located at the foot of the mountain in the city of Tai'an. The complex is built on the pattern of an imperial palace and is only one of three such remaining in China, the other being the Forbidden City in Beijing and the Confucius temple in Qufu. Another temple complex, near the top of the mountain, is the Azure Clouds Temple.  

DATONG

The Hanging temple of Xuankongsi was originally built over 1500 years ago. According to legend, the structure was built by one single monk. Successive repairs and extensions have resulted in the temple as it stands today. It is built on a cliff face 75 metres above the bottom of a canyon basin and is located near Heng Shan, one of the five sacred mountains of China. It is the only remaining temple to unite the three religions of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism.

SHANGHAI

The HSBC building on the Bund was built in 1921-23 to a design by architects Palmer & Turner. It was the Shanghai headquarters of HSBC until 1955. The bank was first established in Shanghai in 1865 and moved to the former Foreign Club in 1874. The bank purchased some of the neighboring properties in 1912 before redevelopment began around 10 year later. Palmer & Turner also designed the Yokohama Specie Building, the Yangtze Insurance Building and Bank of China Building, which are also all on the Bund.

The tower on the left was completed in 2002 to a design by John Portman and Associates. Its distinctive crown is in a shape of a lotus flower.

Tomorrow Square was built in 1997-2004 to a design by John Portman and Associates. The architectural firm was one of the first American companies to establish a China office in Hong Kong in 1979. A Shanghai branch was set up in 1993, by which time the Shanghai Centre had been completed in 1986-1990. At 165 metres, the central of the complex was the tallest in Shanghai at completion. Tomorrow Square reaches 285 metres and twists 45 degrees from the 37th floor to mark a change of function from flats to hotel. The lower section was originally intended for office space.

The Jin Mao Tower (420.5m) was the tallest building in China from 1999 to 2008, when it was surpassed by the nearby Shanghai World Financial Tower (492m). The latter held the title until the Shanghai Tower was completed in 2015, and taller skyscrapers have since been completed in Shenzhen, Guangzhou and Tianjin. Jin Mao was designed by Skidmore, Owings and Merrill; while the Shanghai World Financial Centre is by Kohn Pedersen Fox.

Spain (2005)

Burgos cathedral (Santa Maria de Burgos) was built in 1221-1567, on the site of a previous cathedral built in the 11th century. The original architect is thought to have been French and the first phase of construction, which ended towards the end of the 13th century, was presumably to his design. Work continued intermittently until the 15th century when efforts were renewed to complete the church, this time to the design of a German master-builder, Juan de Colonia. The classical pediment over the main entrance was added in 1790.     

The present Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar in Zaragoza was begun in 1681 by architect Felipe Sanchez and later Francisco Herrera the younger. Successive additions to the original structure spans almost three centuries and some of the external towers were not completed before 1961. The many domes and towers were principally added between 1796-1872 and the basilica had already been enlarged during various building stages in the 18th century. The baroque church replaced a gothic structure from the 15th century, which was preceded by a church from the 12th century, from which     a tympanum on the south wall still stands. A chapel is said to have been begun already in the first half of the first century, only a few years after the crucifixion, and a church was already built during the time of Constantine in the 4th century.

The Cathedral of the Saviour is the co-cathedral of Zaragoza, along with the nearby basilica. The tower was built in 1686-1704 to a design by Juan Bautista Contini and the front was added in the 18th century. The rest of the church was mostly built in the 14th century, after the archbishopric of Zaragoza was created in 1318, and it served as the coronation church of the kingdom of Aragon for about 400 years. The previous church was begun in 1140 and replaced a mosque from the eighth century.

San Lorenzo de el Escorial was built in 1563-84 as a royal residence for Phillip II of Spain. The original architect Juan Bautista de Toledo had spent part of his career in Rome, and was succeeded after his death in 1567 by Juan de Herrera. 

The basilica of San Lorenzo el Real is the central part of the Escorial complex. The original plan was modified from a Latin cross to a Greek cross by Herrera. As part of this modification, the towers were reduced in size and the half-dome planned to go over the altar was replaced with a full dome over the crossing instead.

The Royal Palace of Madrid was built after a fire in 1734 destroyed the castle originally built by the Emir of Cordoba in 860-880, and which was turned into renaissance castle by the Spanish kings from 1537 onwards, a new southern facade added in 1610-1636. The original design for a new palace was begun by Filippo Juvarra but the architect died in 1736, and the task passed on to Giambattista Sacchetti. The project was expanded under Francesco Sabatini in 1760 but the new plans were only partially realised and the royal family took up residence in 1764.

The Metropolis Building was built in 1907-11 by architects Jules and Raymond Fevrier for the insurance company La Union y el Fenix. It was one of the first buildings of Gran Via, a new thoroughfare that had been under planning since the mid-19th century.

Palacio de Cibeles was completed in 1919 to a design by architects Antonio Palacios and Joaquin Otamendi. It was originally the headquarters of the Spanish postal and telecommunications service but has become the seat of the Madrid City Council since 2007. On the left can be seen Palacio de Linares, an aristocratic residence built in the late 19th century. It was begun in 1877 under the architect Carlos Colubi, who was mainly following the designs of the French architect Adolf Ombrecht. The house was inhabited in 1884 though work was not fully completed before 1900. In the distance can also be seen the Alcala gate from 1774-78, which was built into the former city walls as a monumental entrance, by Francesco Sabatini.

Almudena Cathedral was begun in 1879 to a neo-gothic design by Francisco de Cubas but was only completed in 1993, due to the political instability of the 20th century.  The facades were redesigned in a classical style by architect Fernando Chueca in 1950 to harmonise with the royal palace. Plans to build a large cathedral in Madrid was discussed as early as the 16th century but the main seat of the church of Spain remained in Toledo and the project was not prioritised for three centuries. A mosque is thought to have existed on the site but was destroyed already in 1083 when the christians first took the city.

Malta

MALTA

The ground floor of Palazzo Santa Sofia in the former Maltese capital of Mdina is thought to be the oldest remnant of medieval architecture in the city. The date 1233 is inscribed on the facade, a period when Malta was part of of the kingdom of Sicily and the Holy Roman Empire. The first floor with its gothic-style windows was only added some time after 1938. The building is similar in appearance to the nearby Palazzo Falson, also originating in the 13th century but rebuilt in 1495 and completed in the mid-17th century. The church at the back is dedicated to the annunciation of the virgin and was built in 1660-75 by French military engineer Medico Blondel des Croisettes.



Saint John's Co-Cathedral was built in 1573-78 to a design by the architect Girolamo Cassar, as the communal church for the Knights Hospitaller in the new Maltese capital of Valletta. The presence of the knights was established 40 years earlier when Charles V of Spain, who was also King of Sicily, granted the island in 1530. The knights had lost their previous headquarters on Rhodes in 1522 due to an Ottoman invasion and were challenged by the Turks again on Malta in 1565. This time, however, the knights held off the attackers and the siege was abandoned. The decision to build a new capital city was taken immediately after the victory as an effort to eliminate a remaining weak point in the defences of the Grand Harbour, where the knights were based. The new city was named Humilissima Civets Valletta, in honour of Grand Master Jean Parisot de Valette.

The oratory and sacristy of the church were added in 1598-1604 and the interior was given a baroque redesign in the 1660s. Annexes were also built in 1748 and it became co-cathedral of Malta by papal decree in 1816.

The Grand Master's Palace was also originally designed by Cassar and built in 1571-80, incorporating previous houses built in the 1560s including a palace completed in 1569 for Eustachio del Monte. The palace was expanded and embellished by successive grand masters, a second gateway and timber balconies were added to the main facade in the mid-18th century. The knights were expelled from Malta after the French invasion in 1798 and the palace eventually became the residence of the British governors of Malta. Self-government was granted in 1921 and the palace became the house of parliament, continuing in this function after independence in 1964. Parliament moved to a new building in 2015.

 

The Knights Hospitaller moved the capital from Mdina to Birgu when they first arrived on Malta in 1530, in order to establish a strategic defensive base on the coast. The town was quickly fortified and the medieval church of St. Lawrence was adopted as the knights' first communal church on Malta, which it remained until 1570s when the new church in Valletta was completed. St. Lawrence was rebuilt to a design by architect Lorenzo Gafa in 1681-96 and was consecrated in 1723. Birgu is also known as Vittoriosa in honour of the the great siege of Malta in 1565.

St Paul's cathedral in Mdina was built in 1696-1705 to a design by architect Lorenzo Gafa after the previous cathedral was damaged by earthquake in 1693. According to tradition, the site was the home  of the Roman governor of the ancient city Melite, who became the first bishop of Malta after Paul the apostle was shipwrecked on the island and converted the population to Christianity. The previous cathedral was built in the 12th and 13th centuries, as the original had fallen into disrepair during the period of Arab rule, from the fall of Sicily in 827 to the Norman conquest in 1091. Lorenzo Gafa had already replaced the medieval choir after 1679 and this earlier work was incorporated into the new building.

Palazzo Vilhena, also known as the Magisterial Palace, was built in Mdina in 1726-28 to a design by architect Charles Francois de Mondion. It was built as a summer palace for the Grand Master Antonio Manoel de Vilhena on the former site of a Byzantine fort. The fort had developed into a castle in the middle ages and been partly demolished in the 1530s before being converted to an administrative building by the Knights Templar.  The building was used as a hospital at several periods in the 19th and 20th centuries and has been a museum since 1973.

The Auberge de Castille was originally built in the 1570s to house the Knights Templar of Castile, Leon and Portugal, but was redesigned or entirely rebuilt in the 1741-44 by architect Andrea Belli. The church on the left is dedicated to St Catherine of Italy and stands adjacent to the Auberge d'Italie. It was originally built in 1576 though the current facade is from 1713 and alterations were also made in the 17th century.

The litte Doric temple in the Lower Barakka Gardens in Valletta is one of the first monuments to British rule on Malta. It was erected in 1810 by public subscription in honour of Vice-admiral Alexander Ball, who led the blockade against French-occupied Malta in 1798-1800 before becoming the first British governor of Malta in 1801.

St Paul's pro-cathedral was built in 1839-44 to a design by architect William Scamp on the former site of the German Knights Hospitaller. The project was initiated after a visit by Queen Dowager Adelaide when she discovered that there was no Anglican place of worship on Malta. The tower, which is one of Valletta's most recognisable landmarks, is similar to St Martin-in-the-Fields in London.  It is one of three cathedrals of the diocese of Gibraltar in Europe, which covers all of Europe and Morocco. The other two cathedrals are in Gibraltar and Brussels.

St Publius Parish church was originally built in 1733-68 and the facade had been rebuilt 1771 but the current front with temple portico and bell towers is from 1889-92, by architect Nicholas Zammit. It was partly destroyed during bombing in 1942 and was restored in the 1950s. The church is located in Floriana, a suburb outside the city gate of Valletta, originally established in 1724 as Borgo Vilhena. It was later renamed in honour of the military engineer Pietro Paolo Floriani, who built Valletta's outer defences in the 17th century.

Triq it-Teatru l- Antik, Old Theatre Street: Most of the buildings on Malta are built with a yellowish limestone.  However, the city is full of ornate, painted wooden bay windows and balconies.

Triq Żekka, Old Mint Street, takes it name from the Order's mint, located in this street. Also on this street, is found the basilica of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. A chapel was constructed in 1570, and was replaced with a larger structure designed by Girolamo Cassar in 1586. In the 17th century, the church was transferred to the Order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The facade was redesigned in 1852 by Giuseppe Bonavia, and in 1895 the church was elevated to the status of Minor Basilica. However, the basilica was heavily damaged by bombing during World War II, and the present structure was built as recent as 1958-1981, according to a new design by Guzé D'Amato. The reinforced concrete dome is 62 metres high and one of the most prominent features of the Valletta skyline.

Before Valletta, the capital of Malta was Mdina (known previously as Città Vecchia or Città Notabile). It is located at one of the island's highest points and furthest away from the sea. The city was inhabited by Phoenicians, who called the city Maleth, around 700 BC and was possibly fortified at this early date. It was since taken over by Romans, Arabs and Normans. The city grid is mostly medieval, but several buildings are baroque, due in large part to an earthquake in 1693. The building on the right is the Cathedral Museum, a baroque 18th century palace originally used as a seminary. 

Senglea is one of the Three Cities in the Grand Harbour Area, created by the Knight Hospitaller as a massive line of fortification on the eastern side of the Harbour. Fort St Michael was built in 1552-53 and played a major part in the Ottoman siege in 1556. By that time, a walled town already existed and was given the name Senglea in honour of Grand Master Claude De La Sengle. After the siege, the city was also referred to as Civitas Invicta (Unconquered City). Most of the city was destroyed during World War II and has relatively few buildings of historic interest. The new Basilica was completed in 1957, according to a design by Vincenzo Bonello. The original church on this site was completed in 1580.

The Parliament Building was built in 2011-15 to a design by the architect Renzo Piano, being part of a larger project including a new city gate and conversion of the ruins of the royal opera house into an open-air theatre. Both the earlier gate from 1853 and opera house from 1866 was destroyed during an aerial bombardment in 1942. A new gate had been built in 1964-65, becoming the fourth city gate of Valletta, but was demolished in 2011. Plans to rebuild the opera house, originally by architect Edward Barry, were eventually abandoned. The opera house was built in 1866 by architect Edward Barry. 

Mexican Road Trip

A road trip across Mexico will take you to vastly distinct landscapes: From the arid shrubbery expanses of the north, to the sweltering tropic heat of the central coast, to the cool breeze on the plateaus of south-central Mexico, and finally to the lively white beaches of the Mayan Riviera.  Mexico stretches roughly 3200 kilometres from north to south and encapsulates on that stretch, a staggering wealth of diversity.

This epic journey, however, had its starting point in a different country all together, in Los Angeles, California. Much has been made of the so-called Mexican re-conquest of that valuable, yet economically conflicted piece of real estate known as California. What is certain, however, is that reminders of Mexico’s close presence are to be apparent for all who seek it. At the hotel, among the waiters and the receptionists, and in the petrol stations along the road south, you can be assured, se habla espanol.      

Los Angeles was a positive surprise. For all the extreme imagery the place is given, downtown LA makes up for a pleasant stroll. From the air, the endless swathes of rectilinear residential plots, which have been carved through by freeways meeting in complex multi-storey joints, are an impressive and distressing sight. Downtown, however, is small and compact and relatively car-free on a weekend.

Older mid-rise buildings in classical ornament stand amid modern high rises and give feint glimpses of the traditional American east coast city. These older styles are often curiously Iberian in inspiration, giving a nod perhaps to the adjoining Latin lands to the south.

The most striking new addition to downtown, however, is Frank Gehry’s Disney Concert Hall. Crowning a hill, the construction looks more like a piece of sculpture, which only as an afterthought has been converted into a building. The structure is also hard to distinguish from that other famous creation of Gehry’s, the Guggenheim Museum of Bilbao. Nonetheless, the concert hall is enough of a visual pleaser to attract the curious minded tourist, an effect that has been cleverly exploited through the sale of audio-phone tours. The building even creates an outside platform vista, which has been shaded by the planting of trees and cooled by colourful fountains, obscuring further the essential function as concert house, as opposed to an artful public plaza.  

The view is decidedly tranquil, though a jazz band nearby is getting ready to fire up in another public space of downtown. There is little to suggest, however, that this piece of downtown was once infamous as a dangerous and neglected part of the United States.

The highways that run out of the city leads past shrubbery hills and golden beaches before it reaches the border with Mexico. The route also reveals a few whimsical traits of the United States, be it embodied in the German-styled spa town known as Carlsbad, or the glitzingly Las Vegas-like spires of the Mormon Church found along the way.

The border, however, causes a dramatic shift in this quiet string of non-urban Californian life, as San Diego uneasily melds with the fast growing border town of Tijuana. 

Moscow & St. Petersburg

At the end of the trail is of course Moscow, which I got ample opportunity to compare with St Petersburg a few days later. The capital curiously reminded me of London.

For a description of that comparison, please see the following link: http://www.suite101.com/content/the-grit-and-glitz-of-moscow-a328754

Suffice it to add a few remarks about the capital: It is impossible to fail to notice a dress sense that would raise eyebrows even in the blasé west. In Moscow, the miniskirts are the shortest of them all and the high heels the most gargantuan. It may seem impractical; hobbling across cobbled stone streets, but is very much in keeping with the city of extremes.

Behind the red wall of the Kremlin, rises a forest of onion domes, vying for attention with oddly tent-shaped turrets and towers. It is easily one of the most headily exotic skylines in Europe. In order to enter this bastion of tsarist rule, however, you need to circle the ramparts in order to reach Spasskaya tower, where you better not fumble with the change, or you’ll receive a torrent of abuse from the woman selling the tickets. Expect the same treatment from pretty much everyone from bars to restaurants. Get used to it, they don't do polite in Moscow. Yet, the capital is surprisingly upbeat and forward looking.

St. Petersburg, on the other hand, is a museum. Even in the summer heat, there is a frosty and impersonal character to the place. And yet, the city is still mesmerizingly grandiose and beautiful.

Arriving from an overnight train from Moscow, during which we had the privilege of sharing a cabin with a fussy grandmother and a pampered grandson, our first encounter in the imperial city is with eager taxi drivers.

We are inevitably taken for a ride, quite metaphorically, as Russian taxis don’t run on meters, and since we had no idea how close the hotel actually was to the train station. Not quite convinced, we are presented with a list of figures on a printed scrap of paper, demonstrating, supposedly, that the outrageously high price is the official tourist fee.

The city that Peter the great originally intended was modelled on Amsterdam.  Indeed, some of the oldest buildings in town suggest an air of northern simplicity, and, of course, there are the canals. However, St Petersburg is not an Amsterdam of the east, though that would be less of a misnomer than Venice of the north.  

Many of the architects that contributed to the building of the city were Italians or of Italian origin, but the palatial facades of the imperial capital are not quite like anything found south of the Alps. A possible exception are the rusticated gateways within the Peter and Paul fortress complex, hidden gems that would feel at home just as well in Verona as the shores of the gulf of Finland.  

Much of the rest of the city, however, is a colourful, yet solidly classical baroque, and the later neo-classical, empire, historicist and art nouveau additions do not detract from this general impression.

The winter palace is a prim creation in brick and plaster, using contrast of colour and the piling on of decorative elements as primary means to attract attention. The overall effect, however, is not entirely convincing and the building struggles to stand out along a highly palatial waterfront. Moreover, The rococo-esque expression of the building betrays a vague sense of sham, given the modest brick material at its core.   

Across the palace square flows a gigantic sweep of a building, in a marked contrast with the winter palace. Its architectural expression is bare in comparison with its florid neighbour, though its focus of attention is more crystallised and immediate. The triumphal arch, which plays the role of frontispiece caps the overall effect of imperial might. The square itself is, thus, left with a sort of yin-yang effect of masculine and feminine qualities at either end. Horse and carriage trot across looking for the next pair of tourists, with a carriage man in a suitably ludicrous 18^th century dress. 

Seen from the Neva river, there is a sense that the city lacks horizontality, and this is only slightly made up for by the St Isaac’s cathedral, a not particularly original but successful addition to the classical portico and dome theme. However, it is interesting to note that the contrast of the most self-consciously Russian building in town, the Church of Our Saviour on Spilled Blood, ultimately creates the most picturesque backdrop along the canals. It is interesting in a city that was created explicitly as a window to the west, or a rather a city in imitation of the west.

Essentially, St Petersburg is a tourist town, in ways that Moscow is not. There is a sense of a retreat, of an escape into the romantic and pure that infuses it with life. In that respect, the two major cities of Russia could not be more different.  

The Trans-Manchurian Railway Part2: Russia

From Zabaikalsk, the Trans-Manchurian winds further northwards to join up with the Trans-Siberian railway at Chita. The two routes are often confused, as is the trans-Mongolian railway, which travels straight across Mongolia rather than detouring around it via Manchuria. The Mongolian route is quicker but it also entails having to get hold of another costly visa. The original trans-Siberian route, on the other hand, will never take you to Beijing at all and carries off instead to the pacific port of Vladivostok. The 9288.2 kilometres from Moscow to the Pacific is the actual Trans-Siberian railway and it never leaves Russia.

Nonetheless, the area in which Vladivostok is located was once known as Outer Manchuria and it is only in relatively recent times that China has given up all claims to it. The land was seized in a series of massive land grabs in 1858 and 1860 by Nikolay Muraviev, on behalf of but initially without the authority of the Imperial Russian crown. The two successive bloodless expansions earned Russia 910 000 square kilometres of new land. Not bad for a guy commanding a few thousand men, mostly ex-serfs.

The Russian success in the 19^th century is in complete contrast with the first clashes that took place over two centuries before, when the imperial armies of the middle kingdom easily routed the Russian adventurers who had straggled across the Siberian plains. The Russian manifest destiny was, thus, in a sense complete at a much later stage than it first began. At a time when the English were only beginning their colonization of Northern America, Russian pioneers had already made it across some of the most inhospitable territory in the world. Whizzing past in a train in mid-summer doesn’t quite give an impression of what the adventure must have entailed. But I bet over-wintering in Zabaikalsk would, brr.   

The landscape across the border does not alter dramatically, but becomes even more open as it embraces ever wider and ever emptier grasslands. The landscape within the train, however, changes, though at first imperceptibly, as the Chinese retreat to their compartments to enjoy surprisingly elaborate feasts, which they pull out from who knows where.  Furtive glimpses piece together familiar scenes of loud toasting and cheerfully messy eating, just as they would in any Beijing restaurant. No one seems unencumbered by the lack of space and multiple cooking smells wafts across the carriages. The food must have run out after a few days, though, as the bathroom sink soon started clogging up with the remains of instant noodle.  

The food compartment, which was habitually full on the other side of the border is now virtually empty. The fare on offer is borscht and smoked salmon with no Kung Pao chicken in sight. The Chinese passengers, consequently, shun the place while us westerners who would be quite happy with the food are driven away by the high prizes and the small size of the dishes.  The new diet is bread, sausage and cheese, which are obtained from bent over old ladies flogging them on the station platform. Stocking up on plenty of snacks is advised though.

Not long after joining up with the trans-Siberian, the train skirts past what is arguably the most striking attraction along the six-day journey, the Lake Baikal. The cities Ulan Ude and Irkutsk are situated at either ends of this immense lake and both retain an atmosphere of outposts, staked out by pioneers across an untamed and forbidding land. Even today, the sense of isolation is unmistakable as immense forests envelope the towns from the north. Picturesque Russian cottages dot the outskirts according to the regular pattern of any respectable suburbia, and in between run unpaved dust lanes beckoning of what must become a navigable nightmare in winter.

Ulan Ude holds on to a Mongolian legacy and bears in its promotion of that heritage witness to the fact that the area was not empty before the arrival of the Europeans. Irkutsk, on the other hand, appears as the very essence of a Russian frontier town, especially as the cottages is all that can be glimpsed from the train, though the city centre is supposedly lovely and chock full of Russian onion domes. 

The lake in between can hold the traveller’s fascination for hours, although this is perhaps because the landscape has been desolate for days up to this point and the mind is hungry of any sensory input. Russians are a folk that bravely and proudly sport speedos, often over which are hung sagging bellies. However, that is not say that as a people they are especially unfit, quite on the contrary. The lake is magnet for all sorts of swimmers. All across it, there is an unusual sense of life as cars and caravans and endless suntanned faces dot the shores and efface the ancient mystique of the place.   

Beyond this point, the far east becomes Siberia and the pine forests grow thicker. The glimpses of the cities we pass suggest industrial decay; Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk, and as each stop flows into the other, there is a slight sense that Europe is slowly edging closer. 

The provodniks proudly pull out bedraggled sleeveless shirts and ill-fitting shorts as they cling to empty cans of beer and acclimatize to the heat. As far as I could see, there were no I-love-momma tattoos to complete the picture, unfortunately. However, a little provodnik intrigue was uncovered when the most sourly of our carriage’s duo of provodniks was surprised with a provodnitsa on his lap. His colleague had warmed up to us ever since we offered him a bottle of vodka at the border. However, the effect of this did not go much beyond him pointing excitedly every time we returned from a stroll across the platform during stops. The second of the carriage’s toilets remained locked for exclusive provodnik use. The Chinese passengers would all squat in circles on the platform during stops but otherwise remained completely indifferent to their exotic surroundings. 

The last Siberian pit stop is Ekaterinburg, the place where the last czar and his family were executed by orders of Lenin. I don’t know whether there was any symbolic intent in sending them off to Siberia to be eliminated, but if it was, the effort seems a bit of a half measure as the city is only just across the Urals. In its position as a spearhead into Asia, however, the town must have been important as a starting point for eastern exploration and conquest.

On the other hand, the edge of Europe at which foot the town lies is a huge disappointment.  Instead of rising up majestically at the intersection of two continents, the Ural ”mountains” barely qualify as hills, at least at the junction at which the train passes. If you didn’t think the geographical distinction between Asia and Europe was arbitrary before, you certainly will climbing these paltry stumps, masquerading as mountains. 

Nothing much changes as you enter European Russia, except the vague sense that you are now entering a heartland. That is despite the fact that we are still yet to pass the vaguely oriental sounding Kazan before entering medieval Russia. The capital of the old mogul khanate proved to be the last and only true obstacle to Russian expansion eastwards and when it fell the far east was Russian. Once along the towns of Nizhniy Novgorod and Vladimir, however, the onion domes become truly Russian of old. That is till we finally, all of sudden, reach the heart of the heart, Moscow.    

The Trans-Manchurian Railway Part1: China

First a slight note of caution: Expect initial mayhem!

If you are planning to take the trans-Manchurian railway from Beijing to Moscow in the middle summer, be prepared to break a sweat, in fact you may have to endure a torrent of it. 

This is not only because Beijing is baking hot in July and you probably have been trudging through parks and temples all day while lining your back with glistening reams of sweat under a stuffy overcast sky, lovely though those parks may have been. It is also because you will first have to navigate through a Chinese central train station. This is not the new sleek southern train station, designed to look like an airport, currently floating on top of a quiet southern Beijing suburb. This is the old central train station of Beijing, a structure of the old communist school albeit, of course, with Chinese characteristics. It is conveniently located in the centre of town but at the same time bursting at the seams with travelling Chinese.

As anyone who has witnessed a traditional Chinese train station can testify, navigating through will invariably entail a certain measure of shoving, pushing and intermittent rushing. At least you can be thankful that you already have your ticket in hand and will not have to face the anarchic conditions of the ticket queue.

As with all train stations, you emit a sigh of relief as you confirm finally that you are in the right waiting hall and that your destination, Moscow, is clearly marked above a clearly defined gate. You may even be able to sit down at this point or nip off to a shop and buy a bottle of water. 

Once the wait is over, however, the mad dash continues as you struggle along a current of Chinese travellers, deadly intent on getting on a train as fast as humanely possible. The frenzy of it all may seem mystifyingly pointless to an outsider clutching his reserved ticket. However, as rural China has shown me quite vividly on several occasions, an unwillingness to break a few arms and legs can indeed cost you a ride on an overcrowded bus. The principle is pretty much the same in Beijing; the transport services have improved massively over such a short span of time that the collective instinct for survival hasn’t quite caught up yet.

A little bit more breathing space opens up as you hit the platform where you are greeted gruffly by the envoys of Mother Russia, in perms and moustaches. I don’t know whether the selection process for provodniks and provodnitsas, Russian train stewards, is specifically designed to produce a team that oozes a nostalgic whiff of Soviet Russia, but if it is they are certainly succeeding. Scowling looks is the most you will get out of them at this point. On entering the train, on the other hand, now, this is where the real sweat breaks: The train has no air condition as long as it is not in motion.

All the bags can and eventually will be crammed in under bunks once an economical system for doing so has been worked out between complete strangers, with plenty of language barriers to work out between them. However, the task is near impossible as long as all four passengers are inside the compartment simultaneously; the provodniks will mercilessly hound anyone caught blocking the aisles. Even more extensive re-organization can unexpectedly occur.  In our own experience, at the point were we had finally established workable communication, our Chinese co-passengers were all of a sudden removed, and two white faces emerge in their stead. I guess the provodniks got impatient.

Once the train starts moving and the air condition kicks in, you will be able to breathe again, but at that point you will also be able to wring your shirt into a pool of sweat. Now, I wouldn’t say begging the hostel to be able to nip back in long after check-out for a quick shower before heading off was a complete waste of time. Personally, I will just say this: relief was all too much of a fleeting experience. However, that is forgotten as the evening draws to a close and our breathing gradually recedes from frantic levels to calm and eventual sleep.

As the new day emerges, we have already crossed the symbolic frontier of the great wall and are already well on our way into the nomadic heartland of Manchuria. Now, I wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of the Chinese by suggesting that these northern lands are any less China than south of the wall. However, it remains inescapable that these endless plains was once beyond the confines of the Middle Kingdom and on it roamed for centuries the Jurchen and other such tribes. 

The northeast is most importantly the home of the Manchus, whose ancient capital Shenyang we pass on our northward journey, and whose leaders contributed decisively in enlarging China to its present size through the conquest of the lands of Mongolians, the Han, the Tibetans the Uygurs in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 

The northeast is also the Chinese name of choice for the region, largely because the Japanese used the idea of a separate non-Chinese Manchu identity to establish the puppet state of Manchkuo. The Japanese presence also contributed to the northeast becoming China’s oldest industrial area, which today has left it with the rather dubious title of rust belt of China. The glimpses caught from our train leave memories of a very green and flat landscape, but also, as the epithet would imply, rust and decay and seemingly abandoned factories and rather sorry excuses for housing blocks strewn across the plains. On the way, we also skirt by the provincial capital of Haerbin whose onion domed cathedral reminds us that the claws of Russia once stretched slightly further than they do currently. 

The name Manchuria, however, has curiously stuck in one border town, which was to be our last snapshot of China before entering Russia. In Chinese, it is simply named Manzhouli or as we would translate it in English and the provodniks in Russian: Manchuria.    

Despite the seeming stagnation of the areas we passed on our way up, Manzhouli shows visible signs of a breakneck construction on a scale comparable to its small size but still vaguely reminiscent of coastal China. Choice of colour suggests the intended use of these buildings as either a casino or a brothel, but the impression is still favourable compared with the backwater encountered on the other side of the border.

Border control also offer a fascinating contrast between the two countries: The Chinese is a sloppy 18 year old primarily interested in a commenting the merits of the various pirated DVDs he comes across in our luggage and chatting about our favourite destinations in his beloved China. The Russian, on the other hand, is clinically armed with a surgery mask and gloves and will shriek Narcomanie (i.e. drugs) and threaten confiscation as soon as she sets eyes on a few cough drops.  The whole routine takes several hours on one side and half a day on the other, leaving plenty of time to explore the non-paved empty roads of Zabaykalsk. The town features a kiosk and, perhaps most strikingly, buildings that seem to have been abandoned half way into construction, by the looks of them, some time in the sixties. We spend the rest of the time in the waiting hall at the train station, munching on Russian cheese and sausage and watching Russian day-time television.

But that’s Russia and a whole other story, coming up next.