By Timur Shafir
Secretary, Head of the International Department of Russian Union of Journalists, Russia
My first visit to China took place already over ten years ago. It was an official trip, but as is often the case, the most meaningful impressions are born not during protocol meetings, but outside them — in brief walks, casual conversations, and, in my case, one unforgettable evening at the theater.
Me and other foreign colleagues were invited to the Peking Opera. It was my first time in China, and I didn’t quite know what to expect. I had, of course, heard about the traditions of Chinese theater — the complex system of roles, the special vocal techniques, the masks and the symbolism. But reading about something is one thing; experiencing it firsthand is entirely different.
That evening, a classic historical opera was performed — a story deeply rooted in Chinese history. I didn’t understand all the dialogue, naturally, but much of it was clear even without translation — through intonation, facial expression, movement, and music. Opera is a universal language, if it’s genuine. And that evening in Beijing, it spoke with clarity, precision, and remarkable emotional depth.
What struck me just as much as the performance itself was the audience. People of all ages — from the elderly to schoolchildren — watched with rapt attention. They didn’t just observe; they were part of the story, emotionally engaged, deeply familiar with every gesture. It reminded me very much of Russian opera audiences — the same sense of reverence for the stage, for the performer, for tradition. This shared cultural attitude connects our countries more deeply than any diplomatic communiqué.
In my family, love of theater and opera has been passed down through generations. We often attend performances in Moscow and other Russian cities that we visit, and discuss them around the family table. That’s why it was especially moving for me to see this same heartfelt relationship with the stage in China. It felt like a personal encounter between cultures — not through formality, but through shared values.
Everything in that performance — the music, the costumes, the slow, deliberate movements of the actors, the tightly structured dramaturgy — conveyed the strength of an art form that has survived centuries, preserved its beauty and meaning. That is the power of tradition: when it’s not fossilized or locked away in a museum, but alive, breathing, and still capable of resonating — even with someone from across the world.
That evening has stayed with me as one of the brightest memories from my first encounter with China. I’ve returned many times since — for work, for holiday — but that first cultural moment through the performing arts remains special. It showed me that despite different histories and paths, we have much in common: a respect for history, a love for art, and a deep attentiveness to the human experience. That, to me, is true cultural closeness.
*The views and opinions expressed in the articles are solely those of the individual authors and do not reflect the position of the Secretariat of the Belt and Road Journalist Network.