“So.  Do you know the Three Gorges?  I want to do a cruce and I am seeing who in the class would like to go.”

The girl inquiring is Russian, as is immediately apparent from her accent, and both remarkably beautiful and tragically too young, even for me.  Then again, almost all the foreign women here are outside of my typical age range, as the majority of them are college students.  There are plenty of Chinese women in a town of 32 million, of course, but dating the locals carries its own set of traps and snares, which deserves an entry of its own.

The “cruce” invitation isn’t specifically aimed at me, but rather at one of the other students in our Chinese class, a Portuguese man.  Still, despite her intent focus on the lone Portuguese, she carries a list of names and contact information, and did phrase the inquiry as open to the entire class so I feel no guilt in piggybacking in on the invite.  It’s early September, and since the start of the semester two weeks ago, we’ve been studying Chinese here in class together each morning for four hours, from eight to noon.

Some students take their studies more seriously than others.  The Russian girl is hoping for a scholarship next year, and for that, she needs extremely high marks (spoiler: she gets the highest marks in the class and successfully gets the scholarship).  Others are students here to study other topics, like psychology and engineering, except taught in Chinese.  For this, they receive one year of intense Chinese study followed by four years of normal education in their new language (a daunting situation, at best).

And then there’s me.  As a teacher of computer programming, my courses begin just three weeks after my arrival.  For those three weeks, my Chinese studies are free and encouraged, but after that, the classes coincide with my own, which means any other learning will have to be self-taught.  It’s safe to say I don’t take things as seriously as most of the others.

I’m curious about the visiting the Gorges, especially as they’re Chongqing’s top tourist attraction (despite being four hours away by bus, or more than a day if one leaves by boat from the city).

“What’s a cruce?” I ask.

“Hmm.  Cruce.  Croo-ees.  Umm…” she pauses, considering her pronunciation.

“‘Cruise,’” someone else chimes in.

Oh.  Duh.  Of course.  A tour whose sole intent is to travel down a river would likely take place on a boat.

“Yes!” she says excitedly, her eyes wide open.  ”Cruise!  Do you want to go?” she now asks me excitedly.

Her name is Lisa (well, Elizaveta) and she’s done an extensive job of organizing this trip, prior to even asking anyone else if they’d like to go along.  Cruise ships come in all shapes and sizes, depending on how much money one is willing to spend, and Lisa isn’t willing to spend much.  Having learned to give up the need for luxury or even, at times, comfort when traveling, I applaud the ticket price she’s arranged.

For the equivalent of eighty dollars, we share a squat riverboat with 150 Chinese tourists for three days and two nights.  Meals and drinks are most certainly not included, but the ticket does handle bus journeys out of Chongqing (and back into it), entrance into the Three Gorges Dam museum, a few incidentals and one of six thin mattresses per small cabin inside the boat.  I’d passively looked into similar tours already, but besides their prices being much higher, I also would’ve been traveling alone, which wouldn’t have been fun at all.  Already I’d discovered that traveling solo in Asia wasn’t nearly as easy as doing so in South America.  Language problems are the worst, but even smaller things like reliably using hostels to meet up with other travelers can’t be counted on as much here.

On the negative side, some of my future students are in this Chinese class with me, and the idea of spending a weekend on a boat with them is a bit strange for my tastes.  As it is, I see them out at the same bars and clubs I frequent (for a town of 32 million, there are only a few foreigner hot-spots) and while there’s never anything but friendly conversation between us, I can tell it’s as weird for them as it is for me.  Often we bump into each other, chat politely and mutually seek the earliest exit possible that would allow us to go back to the irresponsible behavior that students and teachers can’t comfortably partake in in each other’s presence.

By the time Lisa’s discovered all interested parties, there are twelve of us with only one of my students among them.  Two Jamaicans, one Brit, two from Kyrgyzstan, one Kazakhstan (no Borat jokes, please), the Portuguese, an African (I forget the country), three Russians, and myself.

Three Gorges trips tend to last two days to a week, depending on how much one is willing to spend, levels of luxury and how much “gorge” you really need in your life.  Our trip leaves Chongqing on a Friday morning, getting us back into the city by Sunday night.  If that sounds like a lot of time to be on a cruise, don’t forget to subtract ten hours of total bus transport time to get to and from the starting city of Wangzhou, 200 miles east of Chongqing.  True, the Yangtze River flows directly through Chongqing, and there are some trips that leave from the city.  But getting to the interesting stuff requires that we either skip a massive chunk of river by busing past it, or give up a few more days of our lives to the river journey.

Bad, poorly-dubbed action movies play on the bus, and there’s not nearly enough space between seats for my massive laowai legs — it’s just like being back in Ecuador!  At a midway point, just as Transporter 2 is ending, we’re dropped off for a food-and-bathroom break.  Two of us desperately need the bathroom but can’t find it on our own, which leads to one of the worst games of international charades ever played.

Another foreigner and I constantly say, in different tones “tse-SU-oh NaHr Lee??” (supposedly, “where bathroom??”) and get blank stares.  Either I’m terrible at charades (which I’m not) or the two women working here have no idea what men look like when they pee standing up.  Before one of them finally groks what we’re asking for, I’ve stuck my thumb out of an open fly with a loud “pssssssssssss” sound and repeatedly mimicked a toilet paper-less ass-wiping while squatting unceremoniously at the front of the line.  The woman smiles at me with a sadly confused look, before her eyes suddenly light up and she points to a display of potato chips.  Luckily one of the patrons caught in line behind us seems to get the drift of my performance and, after a quick bit of Chinese dialogue, we’re sent back behind the store to the dimly lit restroom.

Due to a side visit by bus to some waterfalls and historic sites, we don’t actually make it to the dock until dusk.  A shortage of docking room means that only one boat can be directly attached to the boarding dock at any given time.  However, the intense demand for cruises just like this one means that there are no less than five cruise ships by each dock at any given time.

Solution:  Arrange every boat parallel to one another so all tourists simply walk through a series of other boats to get to their own.  It’s either extremely ingenious or irritatingly confusing.  Lowering my (way too tall for China) head under archway after archway of each boat in the widely laid out fleet, I never quite figured out which.

My height is a consistent problem here in China, and moreso on a multi-platform ship like this one where the designers were clearly being economical with regard to ceiling height.  The hallways clock in at just about six feet high — four inches too tall for my extended frame to walk under comfortably.  The thin-mattressed bunkbeds are equally short, and almost too narrow for me to curl into a passable fetal position, though necessity forces the issue.  Each cabin holds six and comes with a sink/toilet/shower combination that’s smaller than most standalone toilets.  There’s an open, central area complete with an overpriced shop for souvenirs, snacks and alcohol, and there’s a restaurant as well, though no menu is provided.  Native Chinese speakers appear to have no problem ordering, but even with lots of pointing at other people’s food, the process proves too tricky for most of us.

By day, we take to the main outdoor deck while the boat is in motion, basking in cottony wisps of clouds painted against a piercing blue background.  After only a month in Chongqing, with its unrelenting gray haze, I’m amazed at how much I’ve missed this kind of weather.  I was warned that Chongqing’s air would “taste bad,” and happily I didn’t necessarily find this to be the case.  But only being able to see shades of blue about one day in twenty when looking upwards into the sky affected me more than I could’ve anticipated.

“How can you stand the pollution?” I sometimes ask.

“Chongqing always been foggy…” is a fairly standard response.  Sorry, but that fog mated with something evil and unwholesome long ago, which then passed out like a fetid, drunken hobo over your city.  But enough about Chongqing; here along the Yangtze River is still beautiful as long as you don’t look at the water.

I suppose I don’t blame the Chinese people for being so prone to littering; I know littering in the States is still an issue, and was much worse when I was a small child, before there were programs and PSAs in place to force into our heads to give a hoot, Don’t Pollute! But it’s really hard to look at someone taking pictures of the gorgeous scenery with what seems to be a genuine appreciation for nature’s grandeur, only to watch the same person thoughtlessly toss a candy wrapper into the river moments later.  At times, the boat sliced through the blanket of filth, leaving a thin streak of clean water surrounded by garbage in our wake.  At times, part of me came close to saying something.  But inevitably, the rest of me would remember that I can’t speak Chinese.

A heavy itinerary is planned for us, but most of our days are still spent in transit, and we’re blessed by almost cloudless weather that would almost be too warm, were it not for a steady breeze.  Back on shore, some of us had purchased paper kites, and the wind is just strong enough to hold them aloft as the boat makes its way down the Yangtse.  Chinese people take to the decks as well, but in much smaller numbers, so that things are never cramped, with the majority of them opting to stay indoors.  More than any other people I’ve encountered, the Chinese love to gamble on games of chance, and many doors are open to intense card games with stacks of Yuan piled up on the tables.  A larger, shared room opposite the restaurant is filled with specialized Mah Johng tables that are generally well occupied.  It’s an interesting game, but the rules change from region to region and few groups take kindly to laowais looking on trying to get a grasp of the local style.

But I’m fine with just sitting outside.

What are the Three Gorges? (三峡)

The third-largest river in the world, the Yangtze starts in the far northwest region of China and works its way south and eastward, passing my temporary home city of Chongqing, before emptying into the Pacific Ocean outside of Shanghai.

“With a name like Yancy, they must really appreciate you there for being named after such a glorious source of sustenance, right?” you might ask.

Wrong.  The Chinese call it Chang Jiang (literally “The Long River”) and have no idea what I’m talking about when I try to relate myself to the waterway.  In actuality, the name Yangzi comes from a single ferry crossing of the river near Shanghai that foreigners had heard about and taken to be the river’s actual name.  The Chinese-sounding name stuck in the western world, despite the fact that no Chinese people actually seem to call it that.

While possibly an interesting journey for all 6300 kilometers from start to finish, most people skip all the fluff (Chongqing included) and head straight for the Yangtze’s money shot: The Three Gorges.

Qutang, Wu and Xiling.  Located in the Hubei province, the three combined take up barely 120 kilometers worth of space, though they’re easily the most well traveled section of the entire river.  If you haven’t heard of the gorges before, don’t feel too bad.  But if you have, there are three possible reasons:

1. Many groups (possibly all Chinese) list it as an “Eighth Wonder of the Natural World”
2. It’s such a famous part of the Chinese landscape that they added it to their 10 Yuan bill
3. The massive Three Gorges dam — the largest in the world — has evoked both awe and controversy since its inception.

The dam’s got its share of proponents and detractors, but it’s undeniable that its changed the landscape of the gorges forever, and raised the water levels there in places by over 500 feet.  Environmentalists are naturally concerned, and besides the 1.3 million people displaced by the project (with historic and ancestral homes now completely submerged), there are hidden risks like landslides and projected flooding as far west as Chongqing.  However, in a country with an intense need for power that will only continue growing as China catches up with the West, hydroelectric power is probably the cleanest and most renewable form of energy available to it.  Since coal (with its terrible effects on China’s environment) is the current source of most of the country’s energy, halting any of China’s hydroelectric projects is kind of a double-edged sword.

Looking at this map of a typical Three Gorges tour…

…one can make out a tremendous selection of possible tourist fare.  It’s quite possible we were alerted to many of these destinations as we floated on by, but as any explanations were only in Chinese, our entire group was oblivious to them.

However, we did manage to make about 1-2 significant stops each day where we’d exit the boat and get to look around.  Here’s a brief itinerary:

Day 1: Qinglong Waterfall by day, then Feng Jie, the White Emperor City, at night

Day 2: Dragonboat races and shows in the Little Three Gorges, in Wu Gorge

Day 3: A tour of Xiling Gorge by riverboat (about a quarter the size of our own boat) and a Tour of the Dam.  A long, tired bus ride home.

Day 1: Waterfalls and White Emperors

At this point it’s still more efficient to get us around by bus, as we’ve yet to even see the boat we’ll be spending the next few days upon when we arrive at Qinglong.   At over 500 feet across and 350 feet high (“like Niagara Falls in USA” says one touring website), the waterfall is clearly the main attraction here, though there are ancient style bridges and those ubiquitous pagodas.  Most impressive is the hollowed out area behind the falls, allowing those of us that don’t mind getting fairly drenched to pass behind it.

There are overpriced rafting rides and plenty of spots for photo ops…

Oh, that reminds me.  Chinese Pet Peeve #72:

I understand that you guys like taking pictures.  That’s a universal thing, and the Japanese are probably still mocked for being camera-happy more than any other culture (though maybe not for long…).  But if you’re at a scenic spot and there’s clearly a line of people huddled around you as you snap pictures of your mother/girlfriend/child/uncle/dog/etc, is it Really Necessary to take 46 different pictures?  I know you’re just trying to get the right shot, but there are twelve people around you also waiting to take just one.  Either there’s a mass epidemic of obliviousness, or people just don’t care about anyone else around them.  I’m going with the latter.  That’s all.

…but after the waterfall, most of us are ready to head back to the bus, stopping for the street food offerings of cold noodles and fried potatoes along the way.

From Qinglong, it’s still more than an hour to Fengdu where we embark, followed by another hour or more of getting settled and taking in Fengdu’s frenetic neon landscape while the boat prepares to make its move.  It’s already dark as we start to head east along the Yangtze, eventually stopping for a quick break at Fengjie to see the White Emperor Temple.  By night, it’s far more impressive from afar as the ancient temple is fully framed in powerful red neon.  Inside, each room houses an assortment of larger-than-life statues telling the sad story of Liubei, the King of Shu, and his final days.  Like most things here, it’s impressive but would be far more compelling with an English translation.

Far more interesting is the long row of cheap tourist kitsch and hot street food we pass as we make our way between the boat and the temple.  Shaozi (street BBQ) is available here, but that’s plentiful enough in Chongqing.  More unique are the fried dough and even-more-fried fish they’re hawking here.  It’s the only option for dinner, and we make the most of it.

Day 2: A Brush with the Law, Dragon Boats, etc

It’s hard not to get impatient as the throngs of Chinese passengers slowly huddle forward in a thin line off of the boat, merging with each other with no regard for the Western concept of personal space.  Ok, I’m not being entirely fair here.  The truth is, we were probably being stupid and should’ve expected that said stupidity would be a bad idea in China.

Ivan, a Russian and my sole student on this trip, stood just ahead of me by the railing as we ambled slowly through the line to disembark.  Our boat was firmly pressed up against the dock, with only the railing separating our group from the freedom that a neverending line of Chinese tourists seems to be denying us.  So, seemingly without putting much thought into it, he hops the rail and makes his way toward our group of friends that’d already congregated on the other side.  Following his lead, the Jamaican, Keroma (who stands out on this boat even more than I do, to the point where parents constantly bring their children over to him awkwardly for photo ops, even if the children are screaming out in fear) and I make our way over as well, with seemingly little fanfare.

Unfortunately for us, an officer of some sort (what his actual role was is uncertain) managed to spot us and was less than thrilled by our flagrant disregard for disembarking policy.  Rather than simply chastise us, he sets us aside while everyone else on the boat, now smirking, makes their way off.  Some people even tap the officer on the shoulder, adding to the indignity by giving him a thumbs-up sign (and seriously, China, I’ve never had people ignore lines and cut in front of me anywhere in the world more than here, so don’t act too superior now, fuckers…) while gazing over at us.  Back on the boat, he wants our passports but we claim not to have them, which is a potentially dangerous bluff.

It ends up paying off, as he seems unsure what to do with us.  We’re likely the most exciting thing that’s happened at his job in weeks, so he’s clearly milking it, but there are times when the language barrier actually helps in China, and dealing with officials is one of them.  Unless you’ve done something significantly bad, it’s simply too exhausting trying to communicate with foreigners to spend too much time on it.  Eventually, he waves us off the bus with a warning tone and a shake of his finger.

“What are you boys doing??” probes Alecia, the Jamaican girl, when we finally catch up with them on the other side of the dock.  ”Police?  You’re not back at home.  You’re in China.  What were you thinking??”

We stare down at the floor, despite both being older than she is, quietly taking our verbal punishment.  It’s hard to argue when someone’s so obviously right.

Giant drums adorn the waterside waiting area as we put on our lifejackets and prepare to get into the narrow dragonboats.  The long row-boats, with fronts shaped like giant dragon heads, hold about 14 people comfortably with a guide.  Floating markers in the water make it seem as though we should be racing, though seeing that we’re the only boat, such a venture’s hardly compelling.  Overhead, a high wire runs over the entire gorge and a man on a bicycle slowly makes his way across.

The trip ends at a large playhouse where a traditional style show is going on.  The words are lost on us, though the meaning can mostly be garnered through the action and by seeing who yells at whom.  An old king is threatened by forces unknown.  A prince and his lover surreptitiously show their affection for one another.  Dance scenes and swordplay ensue.

Day 3: A Quiet Ride, A Massive Feat of Engineering

We awake just before dawn, exhausted.  Despite rushing to exit, we’re still the last off the boat, but the upside is having virtually no line to deal with.  We’re quickly motioned across the dock to another boat, far smaller, that lays waiting for us.  This section of the gorge is too narrow for the large boats, so the temporary boat transfer is standard.  I’m starved, but the only food option on the boat is fried whole chicks (yes, baby chickens) and I can’t quite find the stomach for such unique fare this early in the morning.   Outside, the sun is only just starting to rise and I’m colder than I’ve felt for the entire trip.

We’re seated in rows listening to an enthusiastic woman drone on in Chinese for close to half an hour.  As the rest of the crowd sits rapt, hanging on her every word, our exhaustion and incomprehension work together to put most of our group back to sleep.  At some point, people start heading outside to admire the gorge as the sun makes its presence known.  The views here are amongst my favorite from the entire trip.

At another, much smaller dock, we’re unloaded once again as each group makes its way to even smaller boats for a quick journey down the narrowest gorge yet.  Our guide is lively, bordering on cartoonish, as he excitedly tells stories with his long fur smock and straw hat.  At one point it’s clear that he wants a volunteer and I make myself available.  He dresses me in the hat and smock and then gets a quick laugh by kissing me on the cheek.  I’m visibly clueless as to what he’s saying to me, but the crowd at least seems to enjoy it.   We shake hands and he’s done with me.

Back at the main ship, we’ve got a few hours to kill before reaching the dam and I spend my time either talking to the other laowai or reading up on materials for my classes.  In many ways, I’m unqualified to be teaching the classes they’ve set up for me to teach here, so a lot of cramming has to be involved for me to fake it with any degree of confidence.

Security at the Three Gorges Dam is no joke.  Guards amble down the aisle of our bus, searching purses and bags for anything that could be considered dangerous.  For some reason, the bulk of what they collect is make-up, though it’s all returned upon leaving.  We get the impression that there will be four different spots we’ll be visiting at the dam, though as with the rest of this trip, it’s impossible to tell if one doesn’t speak Chinese.  We stick together, following the crowd unquestioningly.

The first stop to do with the dam.  There are food stands and attractive fountains and gardens, though nothing is explained, even in Chinese.  The second stop is a museum of sorts, though the museum-to-gift-shop ratio, in terms of building allocation, is around 1:4, with the massive souvenir and trinket shops fully surrounding anything of interest worth visiting.  The remaining two spots allow for great views of both sides of the world’s largest dam, though.

Three Gorges Dam Stats

1. 

   It's true.

   Year started: 1994

2. Year completed: 2008 (though full power will not be generated until 2011
3. Length: 7,500 feet (close to one and half miles)
4. Height: 600 feet
5. Thickness: 115 feet
6. Volume of water processed: 51,402,459 cubic yards (next largest in Canada with 706,000 cubic yards)
7. Power generated: 22,500 Megawatts (2nd place is Itaipu in Brazil with 14,000 Megawatts)

Opponents of the dam have genuine issues with it, as mentioned earlier.  The project displaced at least 1.5 million people and buried over 1,300 historic sites, in addition to its effects on the local environment and wildlife.  In addition to being a worrisome target for potential terrorism, the dam is built on a seismic fault, making it vulnerable to planetary dangers as well.  However, it’s easy for all of these complaints to be brushed aside simply by pointing out that it’s the largest man-made energy source currently in existence, a crucial piece of information for a country of this size moving towards full industrialization.

The dam’s an admirable tourist attraction, though nature lovers out on a quick tour of the gorges will have a hard time not wondering how the stark cliffsides would’ve looked when the water level was over 600 feet lower.

Outside the area of the dam, the women are given back their make-up products (and any other contraband) and we’re bused for close to an hour westward to where our boat waits for us.  Other than the scenic background beauty, there are no more official tourist sites to check out, so we kill time on the upper decks while waiting for the trip to end.  We’re picked up by another set of buses on the other end of the river and, after a massive Chinese-style dinner (several shared dishes on a large lazy susan), sleep our way the five hours back to Chongqing.

Just inside the city limits, I spot a massive billboard featuring a “Western Style” toilet (one you can sit down on, as opposed to a hole in the floor to squat over).  On the opposite end of the toilet in the advertisement is a small Chinese boy of around three, fully naked with a neon rainbow arching out from his penis to the toilet as though being urinated out of him.  Sadly, I fail to capture the magnificence of this ad in a picture and I’ve never seen the billboard again.  Even after being here several months, some things are just too damned bizarre for me to fully get a handle on.

Chinese Dinner. I have no idea what most of the things I ate were, but none were too frightening

Me, by the Kui Gate (the section of the gorges on the 10 Yuan note) holding a 10 Yuan note

The 10 Yuan note