I live in Melbourne, one of the chillier cities in our sun-kissed country. Even so, I miss the cold. Despite having left the northern hemisphere more than a decade ago, I am still disoriented by summer at the beginning of the year.
Growing up in Harbin, China, icy weather was a constant companion. My friends and I used to blow translucent flakes in the wind, take long walks in the snow, slide on ice, freeze dumplings on the balcony and eat ice-cream when it was minus 30 degrees. My happiest childhood memories were freezing cold. And the coldest and happiest days were often spent with my grandfather, who adored winter.
Our favourite yearly treat was the Harbin International Ice and Snow Festival. Come December, my hometown would turn into a kingdom of ice and snow. The festival’s official opening ceremony falls in January, but the ice sculptures are open to public viewing from early December. There are elaborate exhibitions, winter entertainment, and entire walls, railings and turrets made of ice, plus winter versions of any rides you can think of.
Once, on a family outing, 11 of us went on the ice slide together like we were riding a huge dragon. Grandpa sat at the front, followed by me and my cousins, Grandma, my parents, uncles and aunts. The slide was cold, and we hung on to each other’s backs for warmth and for dear life. Even though we attracted some strange stares, the fun was worth it.
Lit-up ice sculptures at the Harbin International Ice and Snow Festival, China. Source: Supplied
Every year, I dream of going back to Harbin with my young family, so they might experience the same icy thrills as I did. I dream of gathering four generations of our family under the same snow-covered roof, taking pictures to bring back to our warm Melbourne home. More importantly, I dream of taking my kids to meet Grandpa, who has never lost his sense of wonder at winter, or at the world around him.
I dream of taking my kids to meet Grandpa, who has never lost his sense of wonder at winter, or at the world around him
Our big family trip was supposed to happen next year. But on 28 December 2022, at the beginning of summer, I received a call from Mum while the kids and I were cooling down at a pool party.
“Your grandpa passed away last night,” Mum said calmly.
On a clear winter day in Harbin, he left peacefully at the age of 87.
Now, as I flip through our photo album, the heat becomes unbearable. This year, I’d heard about a new Ferris wheel at the Ice and Snow Festival. One with a giant, technicolour snowflake that glows in the centre against the inky night sky. I wonder if Grandpa would have liked the Ferris wheel. For him, it would have been a new attraction. He always said watching the beauty of ice and snow is a race against time, and he worried he was getting too old for it.
Grandpa said watching the beauty of ice and snow is a race against time, and he worried he was getting too old for it
“Come on, Grandpa!” we’d chide each time he complained.
Although he loved winter, I always imagined Grandpa would be happy if he moved to Australia with me. My children would love him. Instead of ice castles and arctic foxes, he would tell them stories about marsupials and lizards.
I had a dream about Grandpa last night. In my dream, it started snowing in Melbourne. An arctic gust pounded excitedly on our windows. Snowflakes fluttered and twirled through the air, and a local Ice and Snow World put up an intricate, mesmerising display. Grandpa was holding my hand as we walked along a snow-covered road. I was an adult, but I felt like a child again. When I woke up, I remembered the shape of our footprints on the path.
“My happiest childhood memories were freezing cold. And the coldest and happiest days were often spent with my grandfather, who adored winter.” Source: Supplied
