From Dalian to Yantai

I've visited both Dalian and Yantai, but I had never taken the ferry between them. Actually, not just that ferry—I had never been on any sea ferry at all.

I grew up in a city without a sea, though land transportation was extremely convenient, with trains and buses making travel easy. There were ferries on the Yangtze River and Taihu Lake, like the Jingkou-Gua Zhou river ferry or the tourist boats from Yuantouzhu to Sanshan Island, but the experience was too brief, incomparable to a cross-sea ferry.

Time flew to 2023. With the pandemic restrictions finally lifting, I could travel freely without all the prior preparations. But for me, this year was a slow one for travel—few business trips, no flights in over a year, and I felt restless. One day, casually chatting with a colleague about the Yantai ferry, a wave of excitement surged within me. So I made up my mind and embarked on a spontaneous solo trip.

One Friday evening, I took a flight straight to Dalian.

Dalian, a city I truly adore. Surrounded by sea, its prime location once attracted Japanese and Soviet struggles for decades, changing hands multiple times. Few people today know that although Dalian was nominally the first area in Liaoning to be liberated, due to historical reasons, the People's Liberation Army didn't fully take over from the Soviet military until 1955. Only then did Dalian truly return to Chinese hands. From the unequal treaty with Tsarist Russia in 1898 to the full takeover in 1955, over fifty years of national humiliation passed. So it's no exaggeration to say that Dalian holds half of China's modern history.

These factors make Dalian a unique Chinese city. A city famous for both Japanese and Russian cuisine, where the subway broadcasts in Chinese, Japanese, English, and Russian. A city where trams and trolleybuses run side by side. A city with highly developed sea, land, and air transport yet few bicycles. And of course, its storied football history. How could I not love it?

Anyway, back to the main story. On Saturday morning, after a quick tour of Lianhua Mountain and the Polar Oceanarium's 'Flight Over Dalian', I intended to catch the afternoon Dalian-Yantai ferry. But upon arrival, I realized I was at the wrong pier. My hopes of making it on time faded, and I had to accept the delay. Worse, the next ferry was at least seven hours later. So I spent those seven hours wandering near the pier—the only leisure left.

I explored the seafood market at the beach, strolled along the main road, and accidentally wandered into a red-light district, feeling awkward as I had no interest in the soliciting women there. Actually, that wasn't the most embarrassing part. While walking through rural Dalian without seeing a toilet, I had an accident and soiled my pants. So I had to experience the Northeast's bathing culture. When settling the bill, excluding the cost of washing my underwear, the bathhouse with a buffet was only about 60 RMB—not even the member discount price. Compared to my usual bathhouse in Wuxi, it was just pocket change.

After that experience, I returned to the Dalian Passenger Ro-Ro Center Pier. This time, I boarded the bus and finally saw the protagonist of my trip: the Bohai Drilling Pearl.

It was indeed different from the small lake boats. The pier's nine-story giant opened its lower hatch like a wide mouth, swallowing cars and trucks. More than a hundred vehicles—trucks, buses, cars—took over half an hour to board. The upper floors were for passengers. As I went higher, the class improved from open seating to VIP cabins. Standing on the ninth-floor deck, looking down at the cars like beetles, I felt a bit dizzy from the height.

In my second-class cabin, I found the room almost on par with a standard hotel room. Although I'd bought only one berth, I was lucky to have the cabin to myself—two beds, a private bathroom, a TV, and even a large window with an endless view of the blue sea.

The ship finally set sail. At sea, even a large ship rocks slightly, but it was very gentle. If I had to compare the vibration, it was like mild turbulence on a plane.

The ship had various entertainment facilities: claw machines, lottery machines, mahjong rooms, etc. So if you managed to grab a doll from the claw machine, you could boast you'd caught it in the sea.

But what impressed me most as a second-class passenger was the 'fifth-class' berth. On this ship where the difference between open seating and fourth-class ticket was only 20 RMB, some ingenious travelers created their own fifth-class berths. They brought their own bedding and simply lay down in the spacious empty open-seat area (no exaggeration)—that became the de facto fifth class. Compared to the cramped, humid fourth-class cabin shared by eight people, it was far more comfortable.

After a while in my cabin, I wanted to go to the deck's so-called barbecue pier for a sea meal. But I couldn't find it. A crew member told me it had ended early because of the cold night—what a pity.

Besides, since it was a night voyage, I didn't see seagulls circling the ship or sunrise/sunset over the sea. Perhaps that was a small punishment for my mistake at the pier.

Disappointed about missing the barbecue, I returned to my cabin. Soon my phone lost signal, so I turned on the TV and dozed off.

With mixed excitement and regret, I didn't sleep deeply. At 3:30 AM, a crew member knocked on my door to remind me to disembark. I was already awake.

Disembarking at Yantai Port in the early morning, the city was still asleep, and I had nowhere to go. My next stop was Qingdao, but the earliest public transport from here to Qingdao was after 6 AM. Yantai Railway Station's lights were still off.

Relying on my past experience in Yantai, I took my luggage and rented an electric scooter to head to Yantai Mountain, just two kilometers away.

Yantai is named after Yantai Mountain. Historically, the mountain by the sea came first, then the city. But arriving so early, I felt lonely—not even morning joggers were around. Only a lighthouse on the mountain pierced the darkness, casting a beam onto my solitary figure below. I circled the area, looking for something. Eventually, I found a trendy breakfast shop (featured in local newspapers long ago) and ordered a large goose egg and a bowl of tofu pudding, starting a new day.

After breakfast, I went to Yantai Railway Station, under renovation, and took a train to Qingdao Airport. Why not fly from Yantai? On the day I left Yantai, the only flight back to Wuxi required a transfer in Dalian. I didn't want to backtrack, so I chose to fly directly from Qingdao and also experience the new Jiaozhou Airport.

Jiaozhou Airport, one of the first where high-speed rail and subway pass directly under the terminal, integrates air, rail, road, urban rail, and ride-hailing—nine transportation modes. It was massive. The security check was so meticulous that my phone's battery case was removed and inspected separately. Impressive.

Also, one minor complaint: during security, when I was asked why I was so slow before boarding, I blurted out, 'Public transport in Shandong is not friendly. I arrived in Yantai at 3:30 AM, but even with the earliest train, I got to the airport after 9.' The staff said nothing—indeed, nothing to say. It's true. Even though the map shows only 219 km from Yantai to Qingdao, and the high-speed train runs nearly 300 km/h, even taking the first train from Yantai Station, I could only reach Qingdao Airport at that time.

On Sunday afternoon, my flight landed smoothly at Wuxi Shuofang Airport. My long-cherished wish to sail the sea was fulfilled, but I arrived home utterly exhausted.

Yet it all felt worthwhile.