Tianjin, China. The food looked delicious in the ice bowl. Knowing it would melt away soon stimulated our appetite to enjoy it here and now. The mayor of the city of Tianjin who treated us for this feast lifted his glass and expressed a toast. We replied and wished him and his city well. Later the translator said he had spoken about the success of conserving the old city of Tianjin. We were all too ready to congratulate him, after all, our tour was organized through a world heritage conference. In the afternoon, we were shown around the brand new museum that exhibited paraphernalia from the old city. All pieces were originals, stone carvings that used to decorate the historic buildings, for example. The main exhibition piece, however, was a large, meticulously made model of the historic premises of Tianjin covered under a polished perspex lid.
On the way back to the hotel, still tired from the heavy meal and the many rounds of drinks, I looked out of the bus window. We drove past a vast area covered with untouched lawn and young trees; high-rises in the background. The view reminded me of the images of Central Park. This must be the city centre, I figured. Or, hang on, wasn’t this where the part of old city that we had seen in the museum was supposed to be? It looked as if the old city had just been scraped. Hence the many originals in the exhibition. The void, or scar as Europeans would call it, had been patched over with innocent greenery. In the view of our hosts, this part of the old city had served its purpose in its own time. It might as well vanish. Just like the ice bowl.
Obviously, the hosts and the guests of the conference had completely contrasting views on conservation and heritage. A classic example of cultural misunderstanding. So we skipped the next session, and spent the morning walking around the Summer Palace in Beijing. From on dawn the park was filled with people enjoying the blue hour, practicing tai chi. Near the lake, one artist showed his skills in calligraphy. He dipped his large brush in water and swung it over the pavement. Beautiful compositions of lines and dots appeared. With the water drying up, the beginning of his text would already vanish before he had reached the end. His art could not be conserved. It had to be appreciated here and now.