This time we didn’t succeed to get places in the sleeping car. On the platform the crowd who rush to the coaches “hard seats” pushed us so furiously I was literally carried by the mob. How we got a seat I don’t know. What an adventure! I was especially afraid to be lost in the crowd; what would I do? I prefer not imagine it. Chongqing is 500 km. south of Chengdu. The coach is without compartments. Sitting on wooden benches I wonder how feel the travelers so thronged they haven’t enough space to lean both feet on the ground. For my part I’m spending a night with no end. Atrocious backache keeps me awake. Impossible to move, to stand up. I implore Buddha and all the gods to attain the end as soon as possible!

     It’s 5 o’clock in the morning; it’s still night. Far from seeing tired the travelers hustle to get out of the train. Then it’s the rush towards the exit. Overpowered by this dreadful night I go like a sleepwalker, my rucksack tossing on my shoulders, in the maze of this lugubrious station in rebuilding. Chongqing, which means Double Happiness, does not make me happy in these early hours.

     On the street a thick fog accentuates my gloomy mood. Where to go seeing nothing around. Milan applies to an employee …illusion! He speaks only Chinese. However he wants to help us. It’s very complicated because we need to take a funicular to go to the bus stop. He draws the way we have to go on. Milan clears up once more; he finds out the bus. The conductor seems to know the name of the hotel (LP recommended) we show him. Indeed he signals we have to step out. A good-looking man tell us, using mimicries, he will show the way. We accept with pleasure. Going on we wonder was it wise to follow this man in these dark deserted streets. At the moment we began to doubt his honesty he turns round showing the ensign of our hotel – Binguan Hotel! No word, he respectfully bows to mean an adieu. No time for thanks…he already turned back disappearing in the fog… a spontaneous kindness I’ll certainly remain for ever.

     At the reception they speak English. The room (16$) is very comfortable, very clean. The aches of the terrible night are definitively forgotten after a beneficent bath and restoring sleep.

     It’s raining. We have to get tickets for our cruising. We decide to travel in first class in spite of the cost we didn’t foresee; a German girl we met in Chengdu had warned us of the discomfort and dirtiness of the second class. The boat leaves in two days. Protected under our umbrellas we go down to the strand. I am horrified seeing in the rain pitiful men, women, young and old, bowed under the weight of their yoke charging and discharging the numerous barges which supply Chongqing, one of the biggest industrial cities in China. I don’t know whether I dream or not. Perhaps was Chengdu with its happy air and its tea gardens a dream?

     Milan takes me away from the sad scene to explore the high city perched on a cliff, which overlooks the Jianling flowing into the Yang Tse-Kiang. We arrive there by wasted century staircases. I don’t like this town, nothing attractive. On the sloped streets, no bicycles and the tinkling of their bells! Although a pleasant memory of the city “Double Happiness” will stay after a sympathy evening in the company of some charming students.

 

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