Tuesday 16th April, 2013.
It was magic to wake up in the morning, walk onto our balcony and see the banks of the Yangtze gliding by. Funny how the power pylons mirrored the shape of the pagodas on the bank.
Here, the road by the river had been carved into the rocky cliff.
Enter the sun.
We weren’t the only traffic on the water.
Past a town, clinging to the mountain side in the morning mist.
Sometimes just the mountains.
Nestled by the shore.
We docked at a small mountain village.
There was an optional tour here, which we didn’t take. I think it involved a lot of steps.
Looking towards the shore:
Local tour guides came onto the ship to collect their charges.
Off they set, up the hill.
While the tour was happening, I went to a talk on Chinese medicine, acupressure and acupuncture, given by the ship’s Chinese doctor.
A brave volunteer.
Another ship, similar to ours, passed by in the opposite direction, downstream back towards Yíchāng.
On the menu for lunch was the famous Chóngqìng hotpot.
From Lonely Planet:
“HOT AND VERY SPICY
Hotpot (literally ‘fire pot’) is Chóngqìng’s favourite and most famous dish. It’s eaten year-round, even in the summer months when the city resembles a furnace.
Born on the banks of the Yangtze River, hotpot was originally eaten by poor boatmen. Enterprising meat vendors would prepare a broth of chillies and Sichuan pepper and sell skewers of offal to cook in the spicy soup. Today, hotpot is no longer a poor man’s dish and ingredients are no longer restricted to tripe. You can dip almost anything you like in your pot, from Chinese mushrooms and squid to tofu and lotus roots.”
This chef was cooking tofu in his hotpot. It must have been a watered-down level of spiciness, as I survived relatively unscathed.
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