Day 21 - Tuesday, Nov. 5 - Yangtze River

It’s much quieter on the river, and will be even later in our new port of Badong, away from all those other boats.  Unlike the past two nights, I sleep so well I almost miss 7 a.m. tai chi.  This time it’s taught by the male doctor, a yang to yesterday’s yin.  He doesn’t speak English so it’s harder to follow him, especially with the pivots that mean I sometimes have my back to him.
       Right after breakfast, there’s an excursion Stanley has told us not to miss, an uncharacteristic order from him.  I wouldn’t have missed it anyway.  We’re off on a side-trip up the Shennong Stream opposite Badong... more like a narrow river than a stream.

Shennong Stream

Rowers jump off and pull the boat from a high path

The ferry takes us from our ship up the Shennong - a tributary of the Yangtze which originates in central China - to a point where we transfer to a sampan, called a “pea pod” boat because it’s shaped like a pea’s pod.  With three rowers in the bow and one in the stern (in addition to the helmsman), we scoot along between the sharp mountains of the gorge.  Before the new Three Gorges Dam raised the water level everywhere upstream, it was very narrow, full of rapids and too shallow for anything but these sampans.  And even back then, there were places so narrow that rowing was impossible and the boats had to be pulled upstream by manpower.  To demonstrate what that was like, two of the front rowers hop off at one point and scamper like mountain goats up a slope to pull us with long ropes from paths high above.

Rower and helmsman

       Our guide Amy is a Tujia, one of China’s native minorities.  She tells us about the Tujia:  that they have no written language; that, as a minority, even under the one child program, they were allowed to have two children; that they bury their dead, not cremate them (which is more or less the law in China).  She teaches us some words in her language.  “I love you” is close to the English - pronounced  ah lee oo - and is signed with thumb, index and pinkie raised from a closed fist.  “Bye bye” is pronounced yah nah.  She also tells us of a salamander they don’t eat because the noise it makes sounds like a crying baby; they call it wawa oo - wawa for child and oo for fish.

Village shop

       We pass Swallow Gorge and its appropriately named cave, where hundreds of the birds nest, followed by Parrot Gorge named for the shape of its mountain crest.  On Bamboo Gorge grows soft bamboo, the kind eaten by pandas and used to make rice paper for artwork.  There are also bridges, a tall one opened in 2014 (the only one in this area) and an even taller one still under construction for a future high-speed railroad line that will connect Chongqing to Beijing in only four hours as of 2022.
       One last story Amy tells is of Bill Gates and Warren Buffet visiting the region together in 1995 and meeting with one of the boatmen.  When Gates and Buffet returned to Beijing in 2010, they flew the boatman to the capital to see him again.  A photo from 1995 is on the wall in the village’s grocery store, run by the nephew of our stern boatman, whose house we also visit... but the boatman himself is still walking back from the place where our sampan moored.  (The oldest of the boatmen is 89!)  This village was rebuilt higher up when the Three Gorges Dam submerged their original one.  The houses are simple: a big room, a kitchen, one or two bedrooms, storage for tools and crops (many sweet potatoes in baskets).

The new village

We say yah nah to Amy and all the others when the ferry returns us to the ship and we sail into the 45-km long Wu Gorge.  Since the completion of the Three Gorges Dam, the river is now three times wider than it was and twice as deep.  Peaks rise on both sides:   Pine Top, Goddess Pi and finally The Gateway to Heaven.  These gorges provided protection from the Japanese in World War II.

Hanging coffin (middle of rift)

       After the Gorge lies the huge city of Wushan, and then miles and miles of orange orchards.  Just before nightfall, we reach the much shorter Qutang Gorge.  At one point upstream, one tributary (the Meixi, I think) seems even larger than the Yangtze!  The ridges here are sharper, seem more wild.  This was once ocean floor, long ago, before being thrust up, so the rock is mostly sedimentary.  In one of the crevices, guide Willy points out a hanging coffin,  a coffin placed on a beam jutting out from a cliff in order to prevent bodies from being taken by beasts.  On an island is Waikin Temple.  Along the river are kilometer signs marking the distance from Three Gorges Dam; we’ve come 200 km (125 miles) so far.  It’s 300 km (186 mi) total from Badong to Fuling, our final port just outside Chongking, so we’ll be sailing until tomorrow.

Back on the ship, it’s another delicious, I’ve-eaten-too-much dinner.  On the way to my cabin, the lovely young girl behind the desk is saddened that I’m not going to the Crew Show.  So I relent.  Evidently one thing that helps get you hired on this ship is knowing how to sing and/or dance.  There are several acts, starting with the Warrior Drummers.  Five huge drums for five warriors.  That wakes me up enough for the Maiden’s Dance, a vocal male solo and then... I forget.  It’s time for bed.

Day 20 - Monday, Nov. 4 - Yangtze River

A comparatively slow day today, for a change.  No travel, one lecture by Alec on China’s rivers, one visit (to the Three Gorges Dam).  Our ship will sail only at 5:30 this afternoon.  With the tide.  (I’m kidding).

       Of course there are on-board activities.  A tai-chi lesson by the doctor, which I try.  I can get the feet part and the hand part, but have trouble putting them together.  Maybe tomorrow.  Then breakfast with the gang.  Then time to catch up on my journal and read a bit before a lecture on traditional Chinese medicine (by the same multi-faceted doctor who taught tai-chi).  She explains the principles, then does a demonstration on two volunteer Australians:  a yin (female) and a yang (male).  First acupuncture:  her for a blocked arm, him for knee problems.  Then she does cupping on the lady, thereby giving her three or four mega-hickeys.  I had to leave at that point, so I missed the Aussie gentleman fainting at the end of the demo... a decidedly yin thing to do.  (Saw him later at lunch; he was fine.)
       Upstairs on the top deck, Alec gives his second presentation:  a very interesting and informative talk on the three great rivers of China - the Yellow (Huang He), the Yangtze (ours) and the Pearl (including the Li portion).  Then a quick lunch - Chinese cuisine - before the trip to the dam.

Three Gorges Dam

Our local guide is Willy, who has taught himself excellent English from reading magazines and listening to radio and TV.  (All the guides choose English-language names to help us poor tourists.)  He’s very knowledgeable about the dam and even cracks the occasional joke.
       The Three Gorges is a gravity dam unlike Hoover Dam, and bigger than it.  Its 32 turbines make it the world’s largest dam in terms of electric production.  The first project for a dam in this location dates from Sun Yat-Sen and the beginning of the Chinese Republic in 1919.  Mao also dreamed of it.  But actual construction began only in 1994 and finished a bit ahead of schedule in 2008.  This site was chosen for its granite, much more solid than limestone.  Unfortunately its existence submerged 13 cities, 140 towns and more than 1,600 villages.  On the positive side, it has increased the Yangtze’s shipping capacity and reduced flooding downstream.

Back at the ship, we set sail around sundown.  Before bed, there’s the captain’s welcome reception, where he greets us all with a short speech and a ganbei (cheers) toast with a glass of champagne.
       Then back to the helm for him and we’re off upriver as we dine on fine cuisine, a blend of East meets West.

Day 19 - Sunday, Nov. 3 - Xian to Yangtze

The Yangtze at Yichang

We leave for the airport, armed with breakfast bags, headed for Yichang, which means “convenient prosperity”.  That name is as confusing as the instructions aboard our Fuzhou Airlines Boeing:  “Oxygen masks will fall off automatically in emergencies”.  (I sincerely hope not!)  Or the equally amusing “Pregnant wo man’s seat belts is tied under her bloated abdomen.”
       We fly over one row of hills after another, stretching to the horizon, then over the plain, with sun shining off the Yangtze River, the world’s third longest river after the Nile and the Amazon.
       From the airport, it’s all downhill (literally) into Yichang.  Daniel, our local guide, gives us tidbits of information.  The city’s population:  a mere 1.3 million, its growth spurt largely thanks to the recent building of the Three Gorges Dam.  The dam created a lot of pro vs con discussion -  modernization vs flooding archaeological sites - and how to relocate over a million people.  To get past the dam, there are five locks in a step formation, and waiting time for passage can be long, so now only cargo ships use them; passenger ships run only from Yichang to Chongqing (previously spelled Chungking) and back. And that’s what we’ll do:  sail upstream 473 km (almost 300 miles) to Chongqing.  It will take four days, with side trips.

The Tower Pagoda

       Like Hong Kong and Shanghai, Yichang was a British concession in the late 1800's, and was the farthest the Japanese got during World War II.  Now the dam has made it famous again.  The region is known for its fruit; it produces 5% of all China’s oranges and is the birthplace of the kiwi, which locals call “monkey peaches” because the skin looks like monkey fur.
       Daniel also teaches us some quips about his country, such as “China’s national bird is the construction crane” and the modern term for high-rises:  Chinese concrete bamboo shoots.
       As we can’t board our river cruise ship until 3 p.m., we walk along the banks of the river for a while.  There’s an octagonal pagoda - the Tower Pagoda - with seven statues, only one of which still has its head.  Shades of the French Revolution and Parisians knocking the heads off all the statues of the saints on Notre-Dame’s façade, believing them to be nobles.

Bungee jumping

       We have lunch in a restaurant high up one of the deep
gorges (thus the name of the dam), where food is traditional and English isn’t spoken.  We can watch out the window as people bungee jump off the opposite cliffside of the gorge.*  If only I’d known before I ate!  (Just kidding.)
       After a pit stop at a resort hotel owned by the town council and where President Xi recently came to pee (it rhymes, and it’s true... a bit of their glory), we pass the dam and arrive at our ship, the Sanctuary Yangtze Explorer.  Free time until dinner, which is more refined, with courses instead of the lazy susan in mid-table, but every bit as scrumptious.
       Then it’s the mandatory life jacket demonstration and an optional documentary on China’s Seven Wonders, some of which are wondrous and some of which we’ve already seen:  the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, the terra cotta warriors and the Yangtze River, where my bed awaits in my cabin.

* Look closely at the photo.  There's someone hanging at the end of the bungee cord, at the very bottom, just a few feet off the river's surface.

The Yangtze, home for four days

Day 18 - Saturday, Nov. 2 - Xian

Xian was already the world’s largest city when Constantinople became great.  And it’s still huge.
       We’re headed out of the city to see the terra cotta warriors, before dawn, which is 7 a.m. here, not 5:30 as in Beijing further east (by one time zone, if China permitted time zones, which it doesn’t).

       On the road we see people doing tai chi in parks, alone or
in groups, and pass Xian’s 30-foot-high walls, atop which chariots used to roll during the Ming Dynasty 300 years ago.  I notice crosswalks here are ignored; people cross anywhere.  Both Stanley and Amber cover facettes of Chinese life and history during our trip, answering questions such as “are there homeless people?” (not many), or “is there welfare?” (no, people are expected to work unless ill or handicapped), or “is abortion legal?” (yes, but you pay the bill), or “under the one-child law, can you have a second child?” (yes, if your first was handicapped or you divorced and remarried someone with no children), or “do people speak other languages? (now everyone has to learn English), or “are classes big?” (yes, about 60 pupils each), or “are teachers well paid?” (reasonably, but they’re viewed with honor), or “are there nuclear power plants?” (yes, two, and there will be no more).  Amber notes that women are still not the total equals of men; things were better under the Tangs, when life was good and women could even divorce.
       Stanley holds Chinese class, teaching us a few words.  “Hung hao” means “very good”, as does the more colloquial “ting ting hao” (to which you can add as many tings as you want).  “Bu” means no, and if you add a “hao” it means “not good”: “bu hao”.
       All this distance the bus crosses will be connected to Xian by subway within two years.  For the moment what isn’t high-rise is still covered by some persimmon and pomegranate orchards, the only things easily grown in this climate and soil.
       The road runs along the mountain range that divides China, north from south, with two rivers running nearby.  As with the Summer Palace in Beijing, the emperor mounded up earth to make a hill behind and water in front.  Good feng shui.  Here the mound is his tomb, like the Ming Tombs north of Beijing.  The hill is now only half its original size, thanks to erosion.  Why did the emperor come all the way out here?  For the hot springs, and he built a winter palace here.

It was a farmer who found the terra cotta warriors 45 years ago, in 1974, while digging a well.  And that small event has turned this village into a city.  The farmer always refused any payment from the government; the honor was enough for him.  That and being asked by visiting U.S. President Clinton for his autograph.  He worked at the museum for 20 years, signing books when asked.
       The choice of the site now seems logical:  two rivers, to the north and west, and mountains to the south, but the tomb one mile away was not protected to the east, so that’s where the warriors stand, facing any robber-invaders.  (Of course, the site was robbed, and early on, the bronze weapons stolen, the statues broken, a fire set... but the original intention was to protect the grave.)
       Emperor Qin Shi Huang came to power at age 13 and set about building his tomb.  700,000 workers labored for 28 years, but he died aged 49, two years before his tomb was finished (thanks to his son).  The largest tomb in the world (says Amber).  It has never been opened and never will be.  One reason is respect; another is that the archaeologists saw the damage done unearthing the terra cotta warriors.  Yet another is that the emperor poisoned his tomb with lots and lots of mercury, to discourage robbers; some of it has seeped out over the years.
       There are three pits of warriors (unearthed so far), creating a whole underground kingdom, with various government bureaus and a military headquarters.  The first pit, the largest, is the one the farmer discovered.  No records were ever found concerning this project, maybe again to deter robbers.  It is row upon row of warriors, some with horses... and each warrior has a different face, a different expression, a slightly different build and stance.  Originally they held bronze weapons, but most were stolen.  Two thousand warriors are visible but there were 4,000 more.  None lay under the partitions whose purpose was to hold up a roof.  After stealing the weapons and breaking some of the statues, the robbers set fire to the structure.  Around 200 B.C., the roof collapsed and gradually mud covered the site.
       The body parts of the warriors were molded separately, joined together, then personalized, fired and painted, though little of the paint is left after several millennia.  Their legs are solid, to keep them upright, but the bodies are hollow, with a vent in the neck to keep them from cracking and exploding when fired.
       As we walk along the rows, front to back, Amber points out a few individual warriors.  One is a charioteer taller and skinnier than the others.  Another is the only one not facing forward, with a resolute face and ready for battle.  Instead he’s turned to the right and his expression is wistful... maybe homesick or missing his wife.
       In the pit at the rear are tables and equipment for piecing the warriors back together.
       Then we’re off next door to Pit 3.  This is the smallest; it’s the warriors’ headquarters.  There are two rooms.  One is the stables, complete with horses; the other is the HQ office.  There were no weapons here so nothing to damage.  This was discovered two years after Pit 1.
       Last comes Pit 2, with an estimated additional 2,000 reserve warriors in addition to the main forces of Pit 1.  Each of the warriors weighs 200-400 pounds (90-180 kg) and must have had to be transported by some sort of trolley.  They haven’t all been uncovered, in order to protect them, but a few are in display cases.  One is a kneeling archer, another is standing.  There are also two bronze chariots which are not from here because the ones that were once here were wooden and burned up in the fire.

       There are so many people - and the Chinese are “crowders” - that I start to have the screaming ab-jabs.  Luckily, we’ve seen it all (it takes hours!) And we set off on foot through the vendors who have set up shop between the pits and the parking lot.  It’s a Long March to the bus.  Oh, for a golf cart like on the way in!
       We’re whisked off for a traditional lunch and are greeted by a traditional emperor, complete with robe.  After yet another delicious lunch, we’re invited to dress up in period costumes.

Then back to Xian for a stroll atop the city walls... or a bike ride.  (After all, chariots rolled up here; it’s 45 feet wide!)  I walk a bit with some of the ladies, enjoying the great view of the park, the moat and the city beyond from 40 feet up.  But we can’t even make it to the corner tower; it’s just too far for the time we’re allotted.  The entire wall is almost 9 miles long (14 km) and we don’t have the four hours it would take.
       Back at the hotel, Professor Alec Murphy, from the University of Oregon, gives his first talk of the trip, this one on Selected Geographic Influences in Chinese History.  Then it’s dinner on your own.  I’m not hungry.  Besides, our wake-up call is at 4 a.m. tomorrow, so... to bed!