Memories of Haihe

18.11.2009

My cousin must had been in a good mood for she took me out on a stroll along the bank of Haihe river one Tuesday evening, rather than succumbing to her preferred leisure of camping in front of her computer at home. I had attempted a few explorations of Tianjin on my own before, but they were always cut short by an exceptionally wide road of speeding vehicles for which I refused to lay down my life, and even more importantly, I didn't know where to go or had anybody to guide me. Thus I turned to my sole source of entertainment: the endless reruns of drama series on TV which I had grown exceedingly fond of. My cousin's generosity couldn't have been more welcomed.

The Haihe river was a formation of five different rivers that connected at Tianjin. The name 'Hai he' literally meant Sea River, probably because the river would eventually snake its way through the city and journey on all the way to the Bohai Gulf of the Yellow Sea. It was a cool July evening, the perfect time for people to come out for walks after dinner and let the breeze carry away the stress and worries of daytime. We took the bus to the central district where my cousin's police officer of a boyfriend joined us, (”In case we fell into the river,” my cousin had explained slyly and I merely shrugged, knowing better.) and I was amazed by the picturesque view of colourful lights that dotted the banks of the river and danced in the water. Beside the neat rows of trees and potted flowers, fishermen tried their luck by prodding the murky water with makeshift-rods and there was even a daring swimmer wadding in the dark depth, though I noted that he was careful to keep his head above the surface.

This length of river bank was also a favourite with couples and many took cover under the shady trees or sat at the edge of the bank, talking, laughing and being silent. We walked under a bridge and saw a young couple buying a wishing lantern that was made of folded layers of thin red rice paper. Once the fuse inside was lit, the heat would prop up the lantern like a balloon and the once empty shell would come to life, filled with the heavy weight of wishes and dreams. My cousin's boyfriend, who liked to have a say and a hand at everything he stumbled upon (much influenced by his profession, I thought), went over to help the young couple and in the end it took the efforts of eight people to set it up. It was a beautiful and surreal sight, the fire red wishing lantern glowing against the backdrop of neon lights and darkness and casting an odd luminosity over us. We let go of the frame and slowly, like a baby taking his first steps in the world, it heaved upwards. Higher and higher it flew, over the river, above the the trees, the lamp posts, the bridge, the skyscrapers... People stopped and pointed and I wondered if they too, had wished for something. It seemed unbelievable, to entrust such a fragile material with so much hope when it would inevitably burn out somewhere in the skies and then simply fall as ashes to the ground again. Nevertheless, people once more stopped their logical thinking and let their heart took over.

The wishing lantern had reduced to a tiny red sparkle in the sky. We stood there, waiting silently for something to happen.

By L.L.