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4.10.1990
San Xia accosts around six in the afternoon. Wuhan is a large industrial town (4 million
inhabitants) with a very important port from where the river traffic is very dense. So we stay with Mr. Tchen Li, businessman,
who wants to help us getting tickets for Guichi, which will be the end of our cruising. We enter an immense place as full
as an egg with so many wickets and inscriptions (Chinese of course!) we would never get tickets. Even Mr. Tchen Li moved a
long hour to resolve our problem. He is so kind attending us to the bus. Then, like the man in Chongqing, respectfully bows
wishing us bon voyage. We are impressed with the manner he helped us. Instinctively we bow too saying ksie – ksie (thank
you).
On the bus, the same scenario like in Chongqing. Showing the name of our hotel a man says: “Go with me”! It’s
getting night. We follow our guide cross dark narrow streets. He goes quickly. I am curious to feel this unusual evening atmosphere;
I see through open doors families gaily talking and enjoying their modest evening meals the smell reach to us. Milan, suspicious,
doesn’t like it…suddenly we end in a large avenue. Two steps from our hotel! Our gentle guide doesn’t realize
(fortunately!) Milan’s thoughts and smiling, like Mr. Tchen Li, bows and say “zaidjan” (good bye).
Before coming in China, the unknown, I read superficially about the Confucianism. Now I conclude
the behavior of this people must have his roots in the Confucians moral which marked the Chinese soul during more than two
millennia.
We are at the end of our troubles we think because at the reception a nice hostess does speak
English. The room? A dirty hole! Where to go in the night? I request to change the sheets where I see the traces of the precedents.
Quickly in bed I ignore the dirty walls, the cloth line above my head, the shabby lamp on the ceiling and God knows what else!
and close my eyes to think only about the nice moments of the last days.
Early in bed, early up. We hurry to arrive in time at the wharfs. Impossible
to find the bus stop. Nobody on the street who speaks English. The good will passers say “meo, meo” (no,no). Milan
draws a boat followed by a question mark. No answer. Now is coming a housewife charged with her provision bag. She seems to
know where the bus is. We follow her. She feasts us with fritters she has in her bag. We walk a good time when she enter a
house, come out without her bag and hurry us further. I just decided to give up, when we arrive…at the departure platform!
She triumphantly point out the boat…she was right. Milan had designed a boat. Out of breath but gracefully, we say “
ksie, ksie” deeply moved once more by this absolute kindness.
End of our Cruising
5.10.1990
We get like on the San Xia a two berths cabin where
we reach passing close the cheap dormitories in the bottom of the boat. There, pitiful travelers among their packages, baskets
etc. Soon the motors start to hum. We go off the bank navigating to Guichi, a small port where the large boats do not put
in.
Sitting on the sunny deck we enjoy our last hours of rest on The Large River. I am already
in thought with the Mounts Huangshan, the chief point in search of the unknown. Being inveterate mountain walkers we couldn’t
resist the call of that magic mountain Li Bai (poet I cited during our stay in Chengdu) lauded in several poems. It became
a high tourist place. It’s easy to reach there from Shanghai but it would be a long way round. From Guichi we can go
there by bus – 180km. Unfortunately in LP nothing about this. We were informed there is a bus at 7AM. Waiting that new
experience we talk with our neighbor, a young intellectual. It’s the opportunity to note new “crafts” to
ease the rest of our voyage. About midnight something is wrong in the corner near my head. I awake Milan who finds a mouse
in my night table! No more sleep until the early morning when we accost at Guichi.
Comment jeanette@sbb.co.yu
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