Sherrill, my wife, and I visited together more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 years of marriage. This is number 42 of a series about our lives and travels, true stories of two people discovering the world, each other, and themselves through five decades of traveling together. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series. To start at the beginning of our marriage and travels look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts are a previous series.
Sherrill on the Yangtze River The White Emperor pushed along the Yangtze until late evening. In the morning, it started again early, but Sherrill and I were soon up, gazing across the dark water at passing villages, farms, towns, scenes that would disappear when the great dam was completed. We stopped at the 2,000 year-old town of Fengdu that climbed up the hills from the water's edge. Known as the "City of Ghosts," Fengdu had a reputation since the Han dynasty as "a Portal to Hell." Hundreds of years ago, a temple had been built in Fengdu to the god of the Underworld. Pilgrims to the temple used to be able to buy a "Passport to Heaven."
We climbed across several rotting wood docks, then up mossy concrete steps lined with mud-hued beggars, some missing arms, others legs, holding out tin cans tied to stumps, making weird noises in their mouths. Then we were guided to an ancient building and up and down a series of steps and through corridors and rooms displaying torture devices and scenes of "Hell." It seemed anticlimactic after the mutilated beggars on the steps.
We climbed across several rotting wood docks, then up mossy concrete steps lined with mud-hued beggars, some missing arms, others legs, holding out tin cans tied to stumps, making weird noises in their mouths. Then we were guided to an ancient building and up and down a series of steps and through corridors and rooms displaying torture devices and scenes of "Hell." It seemed anticlimactic after the mutilated beggars on the steps.
Second Wu Gorge, Yangtze, 1993 "All this will be under water," Sherrill reminded me.
Later in the day, the ship entered the first of the three great Yangtze gorges. Variegated with green streaks of lush vegetation, the gorge narrowed in places, cliffs rising steeply on both sides. Caves and oddly shaped outcroppings appeared high on the rocky cliffs, each with its own stories and legends, usually about monks, royalty, generals, and other historic or fictional figures. Some of the huge rocks had been given descriptive names.
Later in the day, the ship entered the first of the three great Yangtze gorges. Variegated with green streaks of lush vegetation, the gorge narrowed in places, cliffs rising steeply on both sides. Caves and oddly shaped outcroppings appeared high on the rocky cliffs, each with its own stories and legends, usually about monks, royalty, generals, and other historic or fictional figures. Some of the huge rocks had been given descriptive names.
"That's my favorite," Sherrill said, pointing. "Rhinoceros looking at the moon."
At Wushan, we changed to a small motorized sampan for a side trip up the Daning River into three smaller gorges. These narrow, cliff-lined gorges hurtled upward with unexpected drama, even more than the big one we'd just seen. We entered the first Daning gorge under a graceful, high-arched automobile bridge.
At Wushan, we changed to a small motorized sampan for a side trip up the Daning River into three smaller gorges. These narrow, cliff-lined gorges hurtled upward with unexpected drama, even more than the big one we'd just seen. We entered the first Daning gorge under a graceful, high-arched automobile bridge.
Washun Daning Bridge, covered after dam was completed
"When Yangtze River dam finished," our guide Rick told us, "water level will rise to roadbed of bridge. Two thirds of gorge will be under water."
"What about the people?" I asked.
"Necessary more than million being moved and towns and cities relocated."
"Then why do it?" Sherrill asked.
"China will have world's largest dam," he replied, proudly.
We were tempted to use all of our film on that first Daning gorge—the "Dragon Door" Gorge—because the cliffs were so tall and close, dripping with yellow-green foliage. On one side, endless rows of square holes penetrated the rock, all that was left of an amazing plank walkway constructed during the Han period: wooden stakes once were inserted into the holes to support planks from which peasant trackers pulled boats up river. These historic remnants also would be drowned.
The next Daning gorge was studded with jagged rocks and shadowy caves and the famous "hanging coffins" on the cliffs, where monks were placed when they died. Small clusters of people appeared from time to time on tiny beaches. Rick explained that they made their living collecting rocks from the edge of the river. They would be relocated when the dam was completed—to a city far from this river where their families had spent their lives for generations.
"What about the people?" I asked.
"Necessary more than million being moved and towns and cities relocated."
"Then why do it?" Sherrill asked.
"China will have world's largest dam," he replied, proudly.
We were tempted to use all of our film on that first Daning gorge—the "Dragon Door" Gorge—because the cliffs were so tall and close, dripping with yellow-green foliage. On one side, endless rows of square holes penetrated the rock, all that was left of an amazing plank walkway constructed during the Han period: wooden stakes once were inserted into the holes to support planks from which peasant trackers pulled boats up river. These historic remnants also would be drowned.
The next Daning gorge was studded with jagged rocks and shadowy caves and the famous "hanging coffins" on the cliffs, where monks were placed when they died. Small clusters of people appeared from time to time on tiny beaches. Rick explained that they made their living collecting rocks from the edge of the river. They would be relocated when the dam was completed—to a city far from this river where their families had spent their lives for generations.
Sherrill & Junk, Daning River Gorge
The third, "Green," Daning gorge, with its luxuriant bamboo groves along the river, was famous for the golden monkeys that lived there. We didn't see them, but heard their shrill cries.
from the Daning River gorges, we returned to the great 25 mile-long middle Yangtze gorge, where the White Emperor was dwarfed by the sheer cliffs and peaks that rose startlingly against a steel gray sky far above. We might have been bobbing up and down in a toy boat.
"Aren't you glad we came now, instead of waiting?" Sherrill asked me.
from the Daning River gorges, we returned to the great 25 mile-long middle Yangtze gorge, where the White Emperor was dwarfed by the sheer cliffs and peaks that rose startlingly against a steel gray sky far above. We might have been bobbing up and down in a toy boat.
"Aren't you glad we came now, instead of waiting?" Sherrill asked me.
Second Wu Gorge with ancient carvings
The ship docked at night, but started again early each morning. We got up at six the next day so we could be on deck as we sailed through the last of the three great Yangtze gorges. The tall, pointed, foliage-covered peaks wore the morning mist like old ladies with lace shawls over their heads and shoulders. Occasionally, waterfalls and small bridges unexpectedly appeared between mountains that plunged straight down into the river.
Later that morning, we passed through a huge lock at the Gezhouba Dam, the first dam built on the river, back in the 1970s. The lock was so big that we shared it with the Yangtze Princess with room to spare. Talking from deck to deck, we learned that the VIPs who bumped us from that newer ship were a group of Taiwanese that the Communists wanted to impress.
The Yangtze suddenly spread out wider than before, the great cliffs left behind as broad green plains stretched out on either side. The ancient town of Jingzhou, although we'd never heard of it before, surprised us in odd, conflicting ways. We were impressed by the Han era treasures in its museum, especially the preserved corpse of a Han lord and 2,000 year old lacquer ware and silk clothing, but the stores in the town had almost no merchandise, just empty boxes and plastic bags piled on the dusty aisles and stairs. Clerks stood around gossiping, ignoring both the mess and the few customers, reminding us of stores we saw in the Soviet Union.
"Obviously, they don't care," Sherrill said loudly, "if they sell a single piece of that garbage." Not one turned to look at her.
Later that morning, we passed through a huge lock at the Gezhouba Dam, the first dam built on the river, back in the 1970s. The lock was so big that we shared it with the Yangtze Princess with room to spare. Talking from deck to deck, we learned that the VIPs who bumped us from that newer ship were a group of Taiwanese that the Communists wanted to impress.
The Yangtze suddenly spread out wider than before, the great cliffs left behind as broad green plains stretched out on either side. The ancient town of Jingzhou, although we'd never heard of it before, surprised us in odd, conflicting ways. We were impressed by the Han era treasures in its museum, especially the preserved corpse of a Han lord and 2,000 year old lacquer ware and silk clothing, but the stores in the town had almost no merchandise, just empty boxes and plastic bags piled on the dusty aisles and stairs. Clerks stood around gossiping, ignoring both the mess and the few customers, reminding us of stores we saw in the Soviet Union.
"Obviously, they don't care," Sherrill said loudly, "if they sell a single piece of that garbage." Not one turned to look at her.
At last, we said goodbye to the White Emperor, staying that night in a hotel that Rick called the "best available." It had no hot water and walking through the halls and rooms we skidded through drifts of dust bunnies and trash and the pungent odor of mildew attacked our nostrils. Incongruously, though, we found tiny complementary packets of toothbrushes and toothpaste in our bathroom, but didn't dare swallow even a drop of the water. In the morning, Sherrill and I went for a walk as people were on their way to work on bikes and little bicycle-taxis—anything rather than hang out in that hotel.
Our experience with the Yangtze should have ended in Wuhan, but instead of getting there by ship, we now took an alarming six hour bus ride through small towns and past farms and new "industrial zones," the driver leaning on his horn the whole time. The two-lane highway was a chaos of constantly passing vehicles—buses, trucks, cars, wagons, bicycles, motorbikes, and an erratic stream of pedestrians—but we saw only one accident, a minibus-truck collision.
"In China, when vehicles collide," Rick told us, "people say they kissed."
We suspected that on Chinese roads there was plenty of vehicle smooching.
Our experience with the Yangtze should have ended in Wuhan, but instead of getting there by ship, we now took an alarming six hour bus ride through small towns and past farms and new "industrial zones," the driver leaning on his horn the whole time. The two-lane highway was a chaos of constantly passing vehicles—buses, trucks, cars, wagons, bicycles, motorbikes, and an erratic stream of pedestrians—but we saw only one accident, a minibus-truck collision.
"In China, when vehicles collide," Rick told us, "people say they kissed."
We suspected that on Chinese roads there was plenty of vehicle smooching.
Bruce, Shanghai, 1993 Shanghai, city of money and neon, was our next stop. We flew there from Wuhan on China Southern Airlines, a better experience than our first flights in China. We'd read about the old Shanghai, its long history, including the thousands of Jews who in the 1920s and 1930s fled from Europe to Shanghai, and even that Noel Coward wrote Private Lives while staying at the Cathy Hotel (the Peace Hotel in 1993). However, now Shanghai was rushing frantically into the future—although it was nothing like it is today. In 1993, we saw only three new skyscrapers, but many tower cranes were clawing aggressively into the sky above the city.
"You see," Sherrill smiled, "this was the perfect time to come to China, when it's just starting to change."
Trying to navigate Shanghai's streets in the morning, I discovered one day, was a struggle with torrents of people on foot and on bicycles and pushing on and off buses. A few blocks from our hotel I was horrified to see another of those awesomely ugly buildings constructed across the Communist world by Uncle Joe Stalin, the Shanghai Exhibition Center, a huge horseshoe-shaped tower splotched with Mayan/Egyptian/Babylonian decorations. Inside, the merchandise seemed intended only for gullible tourists. No sane Chinese would waste money on any of it.
That evening, Rick took us through the city to the Shanghai Acrobatic Circus on Nanjing Road. Along the way, he pointed out the architecture of the different foreign concessions, or districts, of the past—some distinctly French, others British or German. Since we were there, most of those historic districts have been replaced with new towers. The city didn't have many high-rises yet in 1993, but it had smeared plenty of gaudy, multi-colored neon, or sometimes strings of colored lights, over the old buildings.
Trying to navigate Shanghai's streets in the morning, I discovered one day, was a struggle with torrents of people on foot and on bicycles and pushing on and off buses. A few blocks from our hotel I was horrified to see another of those awesomely ugly buildings constructed across the Communist world by Uncle Joe Stalin, the Shanghai Exhibition Center, a huge horseshoe-shaped tower splotched with Mayan/Egyptian/Babylonian decorations. Inside, the merchandise seemed intended only for gullible tourists. No sane Chinese would waste money on any of it.
That evening, Rick took us through the city to the Shanghai Acrobatic Circus on Nanjing Road. Along the way, he pointed out the architecture of the different foreign concessions, or districts, of the past—some distinctly French, others British or German. Since we were there, most of those historic districts have been replaced with new towers. The city didn't have many high-rises yet in 1993, but it had smeared plenty of gaudy, multi-colored neon, or sometimes strings of colored lights, over the old buildings.
Suzhou Canal A train excursion the next day took us to the garden city of Suzhou. Sherrill had been looking forward to seeing Suzhou's gardens, famous for their eroded rocks and bamboo clusters arranged around ponds and pavilions. At the station, Rick herded us into the waiting room for "soft seat" passengers, much more comfortable than the one for "hard seat" passengers, he told us, but when the train came our first class compartments turned out to be for sleeping, the berths already made into beds. Since it was morning, we pushed the upper berths out of the way. Thermos jugs provided us with endless cups of hot tea, if we wanted.
Constantly changing views, ranging from water buffalo trudging through flooded rice fields to the steadily coughing chimneys of power plants to chaotic scenes of new construction, kept us staring out the window.
"I love this," Sherrill grinned, watching the passing scenes. "It's almost like being on a boat."
Constantly changing views, ranging from water buffalo trudging through flooded rice fields to the steadily coughing chimneys of power plants to chaotic scenes of new construction, kept us staring out the window.
"I love this," Sherrill grinned, watching the passing scenes. "It's almost like being on a boat."
Suzhou was known as the "Venice of China," Rick told us, because of the network of canals crisscrossing the city. The white-washed old houses were topped with black tile roofs, but parts of the 2,500 year old town, especially along the canals, were decaying and crumbling. A couple of small motorized boats carried us on the Grand Canal, the ancient canal that cut through Suzhou on its way south, passing scores of sampans crowded with families, as well as old houses balanced at the water's edge. Graceful old bridges arched over the canals, but garbage floated in the brown water underneath.
Sherrill, Suzhou Garden More than a hundred ancient gardens were scattered through the city, but we had time to see only a few, including one that had been copied by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That garden, with strategically placed rocks and gravel areas, wove among several pavilions and around ponds and arcades. More ideas for Sherrill's garden back in Berkeley.
During the next two days, Rick seemed under pressure to make sure that we followed the official itinerary, taking us to a silk factory, an embroidery factory, a paper cutting workshop, and a sandal wood factory. Of course, we had opportunities at each place to buy treasures to carry home. A temple and a museum were squeezed in along the way, each of which also boasted a gift shop.
During the next two days, Rick seemed under pressure to make sure that we followed the official itinerary, taking us to a silk factory, an embroidery factory, a paper cutting workshop, and a sandal wood factory. Of course, we had opportunities at each place to buy treasures to carry home. A temple and a museum were squeezed in along the way, each of which also boasted a gift shop.
Walking was our favorite way to get to know a city, so Sherrill and I spent our free time in Shanghai exploring different neighborhoods on foot, including the Nanjing Road for five and a half miles all the way to the Bund. The hike took five hours but at the end we felt that we'd immersed ourselves in the hustle and life of the city. Crowds filled the sidewalks and spilled into the streets on both sides, beyond anything we'd experienced in any other city in the world, even Tokyo. Often, as people pushed and shoved and jabbed us with whatever they happened to be carrying, we had trouble even staying together. The experience reminded me of riding on the 30 Stockton bus that runs through San Francisco's Chinatown. Lost in the vastness of the crowd we saw very few non-Chinese, but felt invisible.
Suddenly, the Bund, historic business center on the waterfront, once part of the International Settlement, opened up before us. Now, we could stroll along the street without being shoved and pushed, admiring the old buildings, the broad esplanade, the white ships at anchor, the bridges and monuments against the blue sky—cities in China then still could have blue skies. The buildings that once housed foreign banks and trading houses, famous cafes and bars and hotels, still stood, suggesting a romantic past, now gone forever. Only on the other side of the river were new towers starting to rise. Foot sore, we stopped for tea at the former Cathay Hotel, now the Peace Hotel, then indulged in a taxi across town to our hotel.
Suddenly, the Bund, historic business center on the waterfront, once part of the International Settlement, opened up before us. Now, we could stroll along the street without being shoved and pushed, admiring the old buildings, the broad esplanade, the white ships at anchor, the bridges and monuments against the blue sky—cities in China then still could have blue skies. The buildings that once housed foreign banks and trading houses, famous cafes and bars and hotels, still stood, suggesting a romantic past, now gone forever. Only on the other side of the river were new towers starting to rise. Foot sore, we stopped for tea at the former Cathay Hotel, now the Peace Hotel, then indulged in a taxi across town to our hotel.
Bruce, The Bund, Shanghai, 1993
That evening, at our hotel, I talked with several foreign businessmen trying to do business in the People's Republic. Some Americans and Australians said that it was a great place now to do business, but others trying to set up joint ventures were frustrated, saying that every time a deal seemed to come together some official backed down.
"They expect bribes, now," one said, "the bigger the better."
However, we had only to see the huge line of people waiting to see Mao in his Beijing mausoleum to know that the country still had strong ties to Communist ideology. The image that especially stuck with me, though, was that of a young man in a blue suit riding in Beijing traffic on his bicycle while talking intently into his cell phone. What, Sherrill and I wondered, would China be like when all the ambitious young entrepreneurs like this one traded in their bikes for their own BMWs?
To be continued....
"They expect bribes, now," one said, "the bigger the better."
However, we had only to see the huge line of people waiting to see Mao in his Beijing mausoleum to know that the country still had strong ties to Communist ideology. The image that especially stuck with me, though, was that of a young man in a blue suit riding in Beijing traffic on his bicycle while talking intently into his cell phone. What, Sherrill and I wondered, would China be like when all the ambitious young entrepreneurs like this one traded in their bikes for their own BMWs?
To be continued....
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You also might enjoy reading the new bargain-priced e-book of my first novel, The Night Action. Set in San Francisco's North Beach, it has been called "the last great novel of an past era." The book is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other retailers. Click on the title or Here for the link.
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