Slow Boat Through China

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Slow Boat Through China

Climbing onto the bus which would take me to the pier in nearby Yichang, I began wondering just what I had gotten myself into. I had been spent the past 36 hours in buses, trains, cars, and tourist offices. It had been over 2 days since I had enjoyed the luxury of a hot shower, or the comfort of a real bed. And I was now consigning myself to yet another bus ride, followed up by an additional 3 days in a cramped, communal cabin while suffering from the flu. Or food poisoning. I wasn’t sure which yet. All I could do was lean my head back against my seat and pray that my rioting stomach would settle down before I joined in the local tradition of heaving into a plastic bag.

Eventually we reached the pier and the passengers on the bus were all herded onto a massive cruise ship. Presenting my ticket to one of the crew members, she mumbled out some undecipherable Chinese and gestured impatiently up the stairs. Seeing my blank stare however, she decided to take pity on me and escort me right to my assigned cabin. It was approximately the size of a walk-in closet and yet somehow managed to fit a pair of bunk beds, a small table, and a built-in shelving unit. Feeling myself on the verge of collapse, I crawled - whimpering - into the nearest bunk and promptly pulled the covers over my head. A few minutes later, the door opened and 3 young guys walked in. I’m not sure who was more surprised; them - at seeing a white person aboard a Chinese cruise ship, or me - at the shock of being placed in an all-male dorm. I tentatively tried to introduce myself, but was not even able to get through the preliminaries of my name or place of origin. Even my well-practiced routine of exaggerated hand gestures were not sufficient to bridge this language gap. Eventually I gave up and pulled the covers back over my head, leaving the 3 guys to squish themselves into the other bunk. I was past the point of politeness, and feeling my fevered head, gave in to the glory of sweaty hallucinations and nausea for the rest of the night.

The next morning - after having slept through 14 hours and 2 sightseeing stops - I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and onto the deck. I felt like death warmed over but was determined to enjoy the sights that I had paid for. Concerned about the fact that I had not yet emailed my parents to let them know that I was now on a 3-day tour, I decided to get off at the next stop and try to hunt up an internet café. I painstakingly wrote out the Chinese symbol for “Internet” on a piece of paper, and boarded the bus that would take us to town and the nearby temples. After taking a cursory look at the temples, I managed to find a young guy from another cruise ship who had attended university in Canada for the past 3 years and so spoke flawless English. Thank God! I quickly hired him on as my translator and we scoured the streets in search of an internet café. After harassing a few taxi drivers and street vendors, we were forced to conclude that there were no internet cafes nearby. My newfound friend escorted me back to my ship before boarding his own, and I have to confess that I was sad to see him go. Despite the fact that I had only been on the ship for a day, and had slept through most of it, I was still feeling somewhat alienated at the fact that I was the only “foreigner” on board. It would have been nice to have an English-speaking companion for the next couple of days.

Shrugging off the mood, and ignoring my persistent fever and chills, I went up to the top deck of the ship to enjoy the view. After settling myself comfortably into a corner, I was soon accosted by one of the crew members. Pointing at the ticket hanging around my neck, she broke out in rapid-fire Chinese. I apologized, and asked if she spoke English. She repeated her previous tirade - slowly and carefully enunciating each foreign word that left her mouth. I’m not sure why the people here think that I will miraculously gain a complete understanding of the language provided that they speak it slowly enough. Again, I just shook my head in confusion. She huffed out a breath and pointed towards my ticket. Then she pointed towards hers. I noticed that they were different.

I began to get nervous.

I couldn’t possibly be on the wrong ship. I had already been to my room, and my stuff was still in there. Could I have boarded the wrong ship the night before? But that was ridiculous - I had presented my ticket when I first got on. If there was a problem then they would have mentioned it then. And even if I WAS on the wrong ship - what were they going to do about it now? Throw me overboard?

While I scratched my head and tried to figure out what the hell was going on, the woman wandered off and then came back with another passenger in tow. This one was able to translate, and explain how I had to buy a separate ticket in order to gain access to the viewing deck.

It’s probably a good thing that the woman didn’t understand English.

I couldn’t believe that they would have the nerve to charge an additional $20 dollars just for the privilege of sitting on the observation deck. I thought that the whole point of the “3 Gorges River Cruise” was to see the 3 gorges!? Our rooms were 6X6ft square boxes with no windows. What if I didn’t want to pay the additional fare? Would I then have paid $200 dollars to sit in my airless, windowless room for 3 days and stare at the wall (which, strangely enough, is what my roomates did)? Unbelievable…

I paid. But I wasn’t happy about it. And I was determined to sit on that deck for the entire day as retribution. My retribution left me with a sunburn and a sore butt. But the view was worth it. Particularly when we disembarked onto small rowboats and lazily floated through the mini 3 gorges. My boat quickly broke out a bottle of whiskey, but despite excessive peer pressure, I decided that I still didn’t feel well enough to partake.

By the end of the day I was exhausted and so again went to bed ridiculously early. I’m sure my roomates were not impressed as it was clear that they were ready to party. But they respected my privacy and took their party elsewhere. Crawling into bed, I was asleep in seconds. I was jolted awake about an hour later by the eerie sensation of being watched.

I was.

I guess that the presence of a white foreigner on board was too much of a temptation for some. A middle aged woman and a young girl had apparently decided to break into my cabin for a closer look. When I opened my eyes, the first thing that I saw was their avid faces peering at me from the opposite bunk. It gave me a bit of a jolt, but apparently I had reached the stage in my travels where nothing really surprises me anymore. It turned out that they both spoke a little bit of English and so we exchanged introductions, and then spent the next little while entertaining ourselves by getting the little girl to give me a crash course on imperative Chinese words and phrases. Some of which included “ice”, “toilet”, and “duvet” (I’m not sure how that one made the list). It was so much fun that I didn’t even begrudge the loss of sleep (much).

The next day, my newfound friends adopted me - dropping in frequently for a few words as I tried to shake off the last lingering traces of my flu. It was our last day on board the ship, and we were all scheduled to visit the dam before jumping on a bus to Wuhan. The older woman stuck to me like glue for the entire excursion - dragging me onto her bus and into every single camera frame. I began to feel like a dog being dragged around by an unwanted and stifling leash. I wasn’t even able to pee in privacy. I finally put my foot down when she tried to get me to board her bus to Wuhan - having already purchased my ticket, I was wary about messing with the logistics. I thanked her for her kindness, sent a sympathetic look towards her browbeaten husband, and jumped on my 3-hour bus to the next stop in my whirlwind tour across China.

It had been a fascinating couple of days, but I was deliriously excited about the prospect of encountering English-speaking locals and dining on Western food. And maybe - just maybe - a shower. If I was lucky. Hong Kong here I come!

Signing out,
Jen

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Photos

Temples
Alongside the Yangtze River

The Gorges
The beginning of the Three Gorges River Cruise

More temples...
The grand entrance

Setting off...
...down the river

Into the gorges...
...breathtaking

Tight corners
Weaving through the gorges

Our boatman...
...on the little 3 gorges cruise

Our mini cruise ships
For the little gorges

Rudely awoken...
...but couldn't hold a grudge after seeing this cutie