Piazza and Pavilions: Exploring the Italian Style Town

Exiting the Jianguo Road Station (建国道站, Jiànguó Dào Zhàn) of Metro Line 2, the steel and glass of modern Tianjin suddenly recedes. The pavement turns from flat concrete to worn stone blocks. The buildings change, too. Tall apartment complexes are replaced by two-story villas with Mediterranean-style tiled roofs, arched windows, and iron balconies draped in ivy. This is the Italian Style Town (意式风味区, Yìshì fēngwèiqū), a slice of Southern Europe preserved in the middle of a northern Chinese port city.

Established in 1902, this area was the Italian Concession. It remains the only intact collection of Italian architecture outside of Italy itself. Today, the central square, named after Marco Polo, features a stone fountain surrounded by statues of winged victories. In the afternoon, the square hums with activity. Street musicians play violins, outdoor cafes sell espresso and gelato, and tourists pose for photos against the stucco walls. It feels like a stage set, a carefully preserved relic of colonial history.

But if you walk two blocks away from the noisy cafes of the main square, the atmosphere changes. The streets become quiet, shaded by old plane trees. Here, at the corner of Minzu Road, stands a complex of gray and white brick buildings that tells a very different story. This is the Former Residence of Liang Qichao (梁启超故居, Liáng Qǐchāo Gùjū), one of China's most influential modern intellectuals.

Liang Qichao was a writer, scholar, and reformer who helped shape China's transition from empire to republic. In 1915, fleeing political turmoil in Beijing, he settled in Tianjin. His home is a handsome Italian-style villa, but the real highlight is the separate building next to it: his private studio, which he named the Ice-Drinking Room (饮冰室, Yǐnbīngshì).

The name comes from a passage in the ancient text Zhuangzi: "Although I drink ice, I still feel hot inside." For Liang, the phrase expressed his burning anxiety for the future of his country and his determination to find a path forward. Inside the studio, the rooms are preserved just as he left them. You walk across creaking wooden floorboards, past heavy mahogany bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes and Chinese thread-bound classics. The desks are topped with inkstones, brushes, and brass lamps.

It was in this quiet sanctuary, surrounded by European architecture, that Liang wrote the essays that influenced generations of Chinese thinkers. The building itself is a hybrid: built by an Italian architect in a neoclassical style, but occupied by a Chinese scholar writing about Confucian philosophy and Western democracy. The light filters through the tall arched windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing over the dark wood furniture.

Outside the studio, the small courtyard is filled with green plants and quiet stone paths. The contrast is sharp. On one side of the street, tourists are drinking beer in pseudo-European taverns. On this side, you stand in the quiet workspace of a man who grappled with the weight of Chinese history. It is this duality that makes the Italian Concession worth exploring. It is not just a collection of pretty facades, but a place where East and West met, collided, and left behind something entirely new.

Practical Beats

• Italian Style Town (意式风味区, Yìshì fēngwèiqū): Access to the area is free and open 24 hours. The district features numerous restaurants, bars, and shops.
• Former Residence of Liang Qichao (梁启超故居 / Ice-Drinking Room Studio 饮冰室): Entry is 10 RMB. The museum is open daily from 09:00 to 17:00 (no entry after 16:30) and is closed on Mondays.
• Getting There: Take Metro Line 2 to Jianguo Road Station (建国道站). Use Exit B and walk south for about 5 minutes to reach the northern edge of the historic concession area.