Changchun

Today I made a brief-ish stop at Changchun on my way to Dandong. This city was the capital of the Japanese puppet state of Manchukuo (1932-1945). I visited the palace of its notional head Puyi, a fascinating figure in modern Chinese history that few rival. He was China’s last emperor and deposed three times. Remarkably, he was spared after the war (following five years of Soviet imprisonment and ten years of reeducation in China) and spent the remainder of his days as a gardener.

This was definitely one of the best despot palaces I’ve visited, though it was quite fusty. Unfortunately, information in English was scant so I contented myself with touring the complex and seeing the decadence of this regime writ large.

It’s been less than 48 hours here and I’m already well acquainted with the holy trinity of Chinese cuisine: McDonald’s, KFC and Burger King. Unfortunately, I couldn’t identify anything else historically interesting in Changchun, so I ensconced myself in the latter and used the opportunity to catch up on my blog-writing.

Postscript: Dear Chinese drivers, what do you see at pedestrian crossings? I see a green man and a clear invitation (I’ve looked up your traffic code) to cross. You however either don’t seem to see anything or choose disregard what you do with reckless abandon. Every time I attempt one of these perilous journeys I can feel my survival instinct kick in: my pupils dilate and my muscles tense as I prepare my moment to pounce, ready to dash back if making it across seems uncertain. Had I developed these skills at school I would’ve been a fantastic batsman. Rather than an untimely end here as a political dissident as I know so many of you fear for me, it seems far more likely that I’ll go as simple roadkill.

Postscript: Dear Chinese taxi drivers, please don’t be offended that I want to wear a seatbelt. I’d do it even if you didn’t all drive like utter lunatics!