When Shall We Trim the West Window Candles Together, Talking of the Night Rain in Bashan? — A Record of a Trip to Chongqing

A brief record of our four-day trip to Chongqing.

Our four-day trip started with a flight+hotel package from Ctrip. I casually checked the round-trip airfare from Zhengzhou to Chongqing plus three nights at Hilton, and it turned out to be only 1,850 yuan per person, with the freedom to choose flights—no red-eye flights. Such a good deal deserved to be taken, so I invited my bestie and we embarked on a spontaneous trip.

From Jiangbei Airport to Jiefangbei took about 20 minutes. Since it was our first visit, we chose Ctrip's airport pickup service. We booked a newly opened S-island high-rise hotel, which cost over 100 yuan less than the Hilton. The hotel is located in the center of the Jiefangbei commercial area. According to others' reviews, it's convenient to get anywhere from there. Standing in the hotel room on the 47th floor, you can enjoy the river view of Chongqing. I must say the hotel was really comfortable. A special shout-out goes to the smart toilet. Since we're used to it at home, every time we travel, doing our business feels uncomfortable, and I almost wish I could bring my toilet with me. This hotel solved that problem. The room layout was very smart; the TV was a projector covering an entire wall—such a thrill. The only downside was that I booked a king-bed room on Ctrip, but there was no twin-bed option at the time of booking. I thought we could switch at the hotel, but it turned out impossible. Considering sharing a bed with my bestie and the risk of awkward ambiguous dreams, we canceled and rebooked, which cost us a bit more, and we had to book one day at a time because rooms were tight.

Now let's talk about the itinerary.

On the first afternoon, we arranged a visit to the Yangtze River Cableway. That was a real rip-off. It took about 10 minutes to walk from Jiefangbei to the cableway station. Arriving a bit after 2 p.m., we got queue number 3788. The big screen showed it would be about an hour before our number was called. We wandered around for an hour, then queued for another hour. Following the crowd to the cable car, we found out that each car was as big as a bus, and only two cars ran back and forth. Squeezed inside, those near the windows could see out through the smudged glass, but those in the middle could only see the faces around them. If you got stuck beside attractive people, it might be bearable; otherwise, you just had to endure. A few minutes later, we reached the opposite bank, only to queue again for the return trip. We finished this attraction in a daze, having seen only the backs of heads in front of us. Every day, tens of thousands of people cram into these cable cars for a round trip with poor air circulation. It's just not fun. I wouldn't recommend this spot.

Then we bought tickets for an evening cruise on the Two Rivers from a travel agency on the street. Prices ranged from 110 to 180 yuan. We splurged on the most expensive boat named "Man Jiang Hong" (Full River Red), and the seller told us that for this price, we could sit on the deck, which was the best spot on the boat.

Before departure, we tried the "Guaxixi" nine-grid hotpot recommended by others. The restaurant is in the Jiefangbei area and was quite busy. We arrived around 5 p.m., and it was already filling up. We ordered a "slightly spicy" pot, but it was still scorching hot. My bestie concluded that Chongqing people can't cook without chili peppers. The flavor was indeed excellent, and the price wasn't too high—we paid 160 yuan for two. However, many of the tableware had chipped edges, looking rather shabby.

After eating and drinking, we strolled to the dock, planning to enjoy the night scenery of the Two Rivers like wealthy folks. But once on board, we realized that as long as there were seats on the deck, anyone could sit—so much for the wealthy feeling. However, the night view of the Two Rivers was truly impressive, making up for our disappointment. The lights on both banks shone in harmony, dazzling and breathtaking, with exclamations rising and falling. Many boats cruised on the river, each decorated in an enchanting style. Later we concluded that we should have bought the cheapest tickets so we could fully admire the beauty of the other boats. We paid a high price but didn't get to see the elegance of our own boat.

After the nearly one-hour night cruise, we went to Hongya Cave on the bank. This is a popular check-in spot—it looks stunning in photos at night. The roadside was bustling with people busy taking photos. There were many professionals with DSLRs soliciting business; the shots they produced looked better than beauty filters, making you want to have a set taken. But considering my own appearance, I was afraid of ruining the photographer's camera, so I gave up. Hongya Cave only looks glamorous from the outside; once inside, it's not worth praising—mostly souvenir shops and ear-cleaning stores, not very lively, nothing much to say.

The second day we went to Wulong. We booked a small-group pure-play tour (2-8 people) on Ctrip, covering Fairy Mountain, Three Natural Bridges, and Wujiang Gallery, at 378 yuan per person. It was a few dozen yuan more than the large 30-person group, but it was much more comfortable. We set off at 7 a.m. Our driver/guide, Xiao Wu, took our group of eight and sped all the way to Fairy Mountain. It was raining, with mist shrouding the mountain slopes. Occasionally, fog would block the car's front, making us feel we had entered some other dimension—the atmosphere was beautiful, matching Fairy Mountain perfectly. However, the rain made Fairy Mountain less enjoyable: we couldn't see the distant grasslands and horses. So we didn't linger and headed straight to the Three Natural Bridges. There, Zhang Yimou built a courtyard house for his film "Curse of the Golden Flower." I had seen it many times and always longed to visit—little did I know it was sitting quietly here. The Three Natural Bridges are a karst landscape; nature's craftsmanship surpasses man-made creations in wonder and awe. After spending over two hours there, we drove to Wujiang Gallery. I thought we would take a boat and enjoy the scenery on the river, but it turned out to be nothing more than a viewing platform on the way back to the city. We just stopped briefly to admire the beauty of Wujiang River. And they called that an attraction—I couldn't help but laugh bitterly to myself. But given that the day had been exhausting with all that climbing up and down, I decided not to argue.

Back at the hotel, we rested a bit and then mustered our energy to visit Bayi Good Food Street downstairs. There were so many snacks, many of which I couldn't name, making my mouth water. We tried a basket of "Ghost Baozi" (steamed buns), a bowl of hot and sour noodles (suān là fěn), and a bowl of small noodles (xiǎo miàn). My mouth was on fire, but luckily we had rose ice jelly (bīng fěn) to rescue us—otherwise we might have called 119. If you're a foodie visiting Chongqing, you should definitely stay near this street, eating and sleeping, not going anywhere else—even that alone would be worth the trip.

On the third morning, we visited Liziba Light Rail Station. Line 2 was not far from our hotel. The carriage wasn't too crowded in the morning; we took the best spot behind the driver and captured the iconic moment when the light rail passes through the building. I felt sorry for the residents living in that building—life is hard, with all that vibration every day. You guys have it tough.

Then we transferred to a bus to Baigong Mansion (former residence of Bai Chongxi). It was closed, so we walked 1 km to Zhazidong (Sino-American Cooperation Office prison) for a check-in. We received some patriotic education, reinforcing our belief that without the Communist Party, there would be no new China.

At noon, we switched to a hotel in Jiangbei District, near Guanyin Bridge commercial area. This area was not as bustling as Jiefangbei; it felt more like a chaotic township with poor planning, as if we had entered an old-fashioned county town. Checking the map, we saw it wasn't far from Jiuye Bar Street, which gave us a little excitement—we could go to the bar street at night.

In the afternoon, we visited Ciqikou Ancient Town. Its style is similar to Yangshuo and Lijiang: renovated old buildings selling local snacks and specialties. The only difference is the smell. In Chongqing, the whole street is filled with the spicy and fragrant aroma of hotpot. The smell in Ciqikou is even stronger, permeating your very guts and marrow, branding you with the Chongqing mark. I bought some "Chen Mahua" (twisted dough sticks) and "Little Pig Looking for Meat" (a snack) and shipped them to Zhengzhou. When I shared the "Little Pig Looking for Meat" with colleagues, I realized it was actually a specialty from Fujian, Xiamen—everyone laughed heartily. It reminded me of the time I went to the US and bought a bunch of T-shirts with "Made in China" labels—such a similar funny story.

After a rest at the hotel, my bestie dressed in a long dress, and in the evening we drifted to the bar street. It was a completely different lively scene, full of fashionable young people. The girls were fearless of the cold, their legs under short skirts thin and straight, faces lightly made-up looking ethereal and delicate—their grace and appearance made me feel embarrassed and regretful about myself. The young guys were also handsome, each one rivaling Xiao Zhan. Good mountains and waters truly nurture people; I couldn't help but take a few extra glances. The most overwhelming thing was that young guys kept coming to flirt, inviting us to visit their bars. A handsome guy from SPACE PLUS even held up his phone wanting to add WeChat, constantly promoting their bar. A guy from Soho said there were even more young men upstairs who could chat with us, which made my heart flutter and my eyes turn green. In the end, reason prevailed, and I wasn't lured upstairs by the good looks. Besides, I like the strong, heroic type like a Mongolian horseback rider; these tender-faced boys just don't appeal to me. So we chose a roadside barbecue stall, eating while listening to someone playing guitar, and simultaneously enjoying the street scenery up close—most importantly, not making any mistakes.

The fourth day was basically resting. Last night's slight intoxication made us sleep until the sun was high. We went downstairs to Guanyin Bridge Pedestrian Street, which felt too much like a township—even the snacks were not a tenth as good as those at Jiefangbei. After checking out, we went to the Chen Duck Intestine Old Hotpot that we had spotted on Jiuye Street the night before. We felt the cultural vibe there matched our temperament, so we decided to start and end our trip with hotpot—finishing with a fiery bang. The restaurant had a two-person set meal for 78 yuan, which came with a lot of good food. A pretty girl working there guided us to buy a portion of ice jelly (bīng fěn) for 1 yuan each on a certain website, and by following their store we got two more servings of iced hotpot for free. A mountain of ordered and complimentary food was laid before us—we ate with great pleasure, alternating between spicy hot and icy cold! When it came time to pay, we felt a bit embarrassed—the total was just over 100 yuan.

Finally, we boarded the return trip. On the way, the taxi driver told us that this was off-season for Chongqing tourism, with not many visitors. My mind flashed back to the crowded Yangtze River cable car, the long queues for food at Bayi Good Food Street, the endless streams of people in Jiefangbei. The driver said that before the pandemic, you couldn't even get a taxi downtown, and even if you did, the car couldn't move. Well, "The sky and earth may last forever, but traffic jams never end." Ordinary people can hardly navigate Chongqing's roads. The level of complexity is beyond what someone like me can plan. A roundabout can have nine exits, and in the city you can experience the feeling of "mountain roads with eighteen bends." Walking on the road, even listening to navigation can be confusing and incomprehensible. Sometimes taking the subway involves an upper and lower level: the upper level is on the mountain, the lower level below. One wrong step and you waste an hour or so. I admire the ancient poet Li Bai, who long ago warned us, "The road to Shu is harder than the path to heaven."

Thank you, dear readers, for following me all the way here. For your patience, I give you a thumbs up and a little heart.