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Thursday, 23rd September 1999
Suzhou - Wuxi: 25 miles
Wuxi - Nanjing: 110 miles
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A 6.15 alarm call to
get our bags out by 7:00. We had breakfast
and were on to the coach by 8.00 am to go
to the quayside to get to the boat to travel
to Wuxi. We hopped from boat to boat to
get onto ours. We watched our luggage getting
chucked aboard and then we were off to sail
up the Grand Canal, built by the Emperor
Qin 2,000 years ago. |
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It was a fascinating
journey, with our boat dodging hundreds
of barges and sampans full of various goods,
some with whole families living on board. |
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Most were friendly and
curious. River driving has same rules as
road driving - keep right most of the time,
but left is good, too. Some of the boats
are very overloaded, with water splashing
over the deck. |
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Bruce bought two packets of
paper cuts for Y10.
These "communists" never missed an opportunity
to sell their wares. |
The journey, with endless free
green tea, took 3 1/2 hours
and we arrived at Wuxi at about noon. |
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We got on the bus
to store our hand-luggage and then got straight
off to walk across a busy road (aargh!) to the restaurant
opposite. Our guide was Ho. After lunch, back on
the coach to the ceramics factory. We were shown
to the room with moulds, then the place where half
a dozen girls were punching out holes for the filigree
vases, etc. Liz picked up a nice pot (ignoring the
many signs saying "do not touching") and
the girl screamed out as the still-soft handle split.
Liz offered profuse apologies and I think we learned
the Chinese for "clumsy clot". But we're
assured that a new handle could be put on and the
girl soon smiled her forgiveness. In the next room
they were painting. The girl scribed the still-soft
vase, then, with a very large brush, laid on a large
amount of paint, twisting the vase to allow it to
fill the area scribed, then mopped up the rest with
the brush. She made it look easy, but I bet it wasn't.
Finally, we were shown - surprise, surprise! - to
a shop. This time we did not succumb. Instead, we
took a look behind the scenes. The H&S officer
must have been away that day...
Back to the coach and on to the
old town. We got off by an old bridge and inspected
the local market. It was fascinating, with memorable
vignettes: fruits of every type, some of which I
have never seen before; a man roasting chestnuts
in a huge wok; a girl selling gingko seeds from
two baskets supported on a yolk over her shoulders.
Everyone was very friendly and willing to let us
taste things. |
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On to an old house
where we were expected by an elderly lady. The house
was, she told us through Ho, 140 years old. It comprised
one large living room/kitchen, which was high and
one could see the rafters above. Behind a small
and a larger bedroom where the couple and their
granddaughter lived. Whilst the house was undecorated
and had bare plaster, there were pictures everywhere,
photos of the family (of whom the old lady was clearly
very proud). A shrine with a picture of the goddess
of mercy and three other gods - of longevity, health
and good luck - looked down on the household. She
proudly showed us her fridge and washing machine. |
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We wandered round
the area, seeing the wooden "honeypots"
drying in the sun (which answered our questions
about the missing room in the house). We watched
all of life's activities there: people making dim
sum, children doing their homework, and so on. I
found it very interesting. |
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| Back to the bus, and on to the station.
We waited in the soft seat waiting room for the 3:30
train (single decker this time) to Nanjing (Sue declined
the opportunity to use the massage chairs this time).
Our seats on the train were occupied by Chinese, so
we politely ousted them. I was delighted to see a
huge steam engine on our journey. |
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Unusually, at Nanjing station, our guide
was not there to meet us, so we waited
patiently on the platform. Suddenly, there
was a patter of feet, and a little Chinese
lady with a blue CITS flag wildly waving
was running down to meet us. This, we
were told, was Cindy, and our best guide
to date. A lot older than the others (we
later learned that she was 53, but looks
ten years younger - more of this later),
she had a wonderful sense of humour and,
Lizzie told us, was a member of the Communist
Party of China. On the (modern , air conditioned,
hooray!) coach she amused us with the
story of why she did not meet us on time
(train late, met another load of Westerners,
all look alike to her...).
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We went to the
Grand Hotel where our room had a wonderful view
from the 14th floor. Unfortunately, the keys don't
work, and we were admitted by a chambermaid. A very
few minutes later, a very apologetic member of staff
rang the doorbell and offered us a working key.
Lizzie said this was her favourite hotel , and we
could see why - lots of free goodies, including
some slippers which we promptly popped into our
luggage. |
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| There was time for
only a short rest before we went down to the 3rd
floor for dinner. It was all a bit chaotic, with
things coming out of order. We were offered, amongst
other things, duck with its head on, then soup,
then mooncakes, then more meat courses, then more
veggie courses. The time to leave for our evening
entertainment was fast approaching, and Lizzie asked
if we were getting dessert (i.e. watermelon). This
arrived immediately, and we grabbed a piece and
departed. On our return, we were told that we missed
the fish course, which arrived later! I believe
Lizzie had words with the hotel management... |
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The evening entertainment was excellent
- we even beat the German tourists
to the best seats (no towels in
theatres). There was a variety of
musical acts, including people playing
the Xun (ocarina), the Suona (shawm,
and very loud it was too), the Sheng
(untranslatable - a sort of vertical
harmonica), the Dizi (bamboo flute),
the Erhu (two stringed fiddle),
the Zhen (a beautifully-shaped zither-like
instrument: wonderful sound - whatever
happened to Shirley Abicair?), and
the Ruan (cimbalom). The flautist
and zhen players played a beautiful
quiet piece, lyrical and moving.
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At the end, there was that magical,
pregnant pause where people don't
dare to clap for fear of breaking
the mood. Then, exactly on cue,
came the longest, loudest, most
revolting sound I have ever heard
- a man in the toilets at the back
of the hall gobbed. We had heard
this disgusting sound throughout
our trip, and thought we had got
used to it. But this man was gobbing
for China. It started at his boots.
There was a gasp in the audience,
then a huge burst of laughter (and
a moment later, applause for the
poor players). Back to the coach
and Cindy asked the wrong question,
"What was the most memorable
bit of the evening?" She was
mystified by our laughter.
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Back to the hotel for a free drink, for which
we had been given a voucher. However, the bar
was closed for a private party. We adjourned downstairs
to the cafe, where apparently our voucher was
valid. We demanded a free drink and were told
we can have either a dry Martini or a White Night.
We all went for the latter. We were all served
a bright pink, frothy drink. We sipped. Bruce
didn't like it, and I was not impressed. Ros put
down an empty glass - "It's quite nice, isn't
it?' she beamed.
Time for bed.
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