Echoes of History in Lushun

The morning air was crisp as I embarked on a journey to Lushun, a place where the echoes of history reverberate through the streets. Known as “half of modern history,” Lushun, or Port Arthur, is a tapestry woven with the threads of past conflicts and cultural exchanges. As our private vehicle wound its way through the city, I felt the weight of history pressing down upon me, a familiar sensation for those who have wandered through the remnants of Soviet-era cities.

Our first stop was the Japan-Russia Prison Site, a haunting reminder of the Russo-Japanese War. The prison, built by Russia in 1902 and expanded by Japan in 1907, stands as a testament to the turbulent past. Walking through the examining room, the interrogation room, and the hanging-house, I could almost hear the whispers of those who once inhabited these walls. The decay of the prison, with its crumbling walls and rusting bars, spoke to me in a language I understood—a language of forgotten stories and lost souls.

Ascending Baiyu Hill

Leaving the somber atmosphere of the prison behind, we ascended Baiyu Hill, a place where the past and present collide in a breathtaking panorama. From the summit, the view of Lushun’s new and old city stretched out before me, a living map of history. The military port, a natural ice-free harbor, lay below, its strategic importance evident even to the untrained eye.

As I stood there, the wind carrying the scent of the sea, I was reminded of the countless soldiers who had gazed upon this same view, their fates intertwined with the land. The rolling mountains and green pines of East Crest Mountain, once the main position of the Russian overland defense, whispered tales of battles fought and lives lost. It was a place where the past lingered, refusing to be forgotten.

The Charm of Lushun Train Station

Our journey continued to the Lushun Train Station, a gem of Russian wooden architecture. Its brick and wood structure, small and chic, stood as a testament to a bygone era. The wooden structure wind and rain shelter on the platform was both reasonable and aesthetic, a perfect blend of form and function.

As I wandered through the station, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia for a time I had never known. The station, with its echoes of departing trains and the hustle of travelers, was a reminder of the transient nature of life. It was a fitting end to a day spent exploring the layers of history that make up Lushun.

As we crossed the sea bridge back to Dalian, the sun setting over the horizon, I felt a sense of melancholy mixed with awe. Lushun had revealed its secrets to me, and I was left with a deeper understanding of the forces that have shaped this region. It was a journey that spoke to my soul, a reminder of the beauty and tragedy that coexist in the world.