How the Cookie Crumbles

Life and scribbles on the far side of SIXTY-FIVE

On the Yangtze, Part 7

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Image Courtesy of Sally Cronin

How precious is a pen? I’d brought four with me and lost one. The last one is almost out of ink. What will I do if I can’t scare up more or another one? I like gel pens but hadn’t remembered how fast they run dry. I scribbled a lot, I suppose. At home, I’d pull another one out of my stash of dozens. Why hadn’t I brought more?



Cauliflower (lemon flavored); red kidney beans and chick peas; fruit salad (with bananas, ugh); spicy red leaves (yum); tendons of beef mutton; mixed five-bean salad

Sliced oranges; cantaloupe (honey dew); whole pears; sliced red cabbage, sliced cucumbers; grape tomatoes; chunks romaine and red cabbage; chopped hard boiled eggs; raisins; real crumbled bacon


French, Italian and Thousand Island (none of these are what we recognize as such)


Rice ball, duck breast in brown sauce; stir fry vegetables, bacon of Sichuan style; baked sweet potato; stewed beef brisket; pasta with mushroom cream sauce; steamed egg; stewed sliced fish in tomato sauce; steamed white rice; duck and pickles soup; cream of corn soup, and buns

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The 3:00 p.m. extra excursion was reinstated: Ghost City Tour and Stairway to Hell in place of canceled Goddess Stream Tour previous day.

To visit Hell and Ghost City, we climbed (we were told) 500 steps. No, it wasn’t continuous. The ground leveled out at intervals and showcased temples and statues and bridges etc. I stopped counting after 10 or 11 steps as I huffed and puffed to keep up with the crowd. With no illusions about completing the ascent, I soldiered on. Talk about a workout in muggy weather yet!

Heaven Hill under Construction

                        © All Rights Reserved. Used by permission of RJ, a member of English 8

Look wa-ay-y up! Model of Temple of Hell.

Model Temple of Hell

                       © All Rights Reserved. Used by permission of RJ, a member of English 8

Many tour groups crowded around their guides, who used megaphones to be heard over other guides. It was too noisy and congested for me. I gave up listening.

The way down sloped at a steep angle; I was careful not to fall on my face. The road was paved and wide enough for a car but used for foot traffic. Members of my group had disappeared. Some had lost interest and turned back to the ship. I came down alone.

At one point I saw no-one and heard only birdsong and my runners thump against the asphalt, then, another set of footfalls clunked behind me. My heart in my throat, I stopped to pretend-fix my laces and caught sight of a man fiddling with his camera. I wasted no time hoofing forward till I reached a bend in the road and saw people milling around. My second experience since Shanghai, I came upon a disfigured man lying on the ground, begging. It appears these poor souls are well hidden from tourist’s eyes.

At the bottom, we’d come through an open market. This time a particular display caught my attention. I stopped and bought a bottle of wine (either Great Wall label or Dynasty). After a brief negotiation, I paid 50 Yuan or $8.30 USD.

Outnumbered thousands to one, I found myself surrounded by Chinese tourists and the loud chatter of exuberant Chinese voices. Taking a deep breath, I approached the closest open mini-bus and said the name of our ship with a dramatic question mark attached. The driver nodded. Everyone stared at me, the foreigner. The driver waited to fill two more seats before proceeding toward the river. We were deposited at the top of a hill where more stairs awaited downward bound. I jumped out and booted it down the stairs, down the long walkway to another semi-enclosed market where the locals gawked at the lone westerner. At least that’s how it felt. I passed men guys eating noodles. boxes of wine, cases of soft drinks and beer, and other foodstuffs.

Hot and sticky, I wanted a shower and to cool off. I’m surprised my legs held me upright after all the stairs I’d scaled in the past couple hours. Guides waited along the way directing those returning through two—or was it three—ships anchored side-by-side. I recognized no one. What a lost feeling surrounded by only Chinese!

After a quick shower, I enjoyed cool air on the balcony where an almost breeze teased me but not for long. Tourists hanging out over their balconies blew smoke clouds about, some of the smell settled on me and in our room. I went inside and shut the doors. Smoking in the state rooms wasn’t allowed. Alarms installed in the ceilings kept guest honest. Puffing outside was okay.

© 2015 Tess @ How the Cookie

© 2015 Tess @ How the Cookie  (I can’t believe how crooked the imprint is)

Our last night on the cruise had arrived. Time to dress up for a fancy Captain’s Farewell Dinner.

This is the only time we had a menu for any meal on the ship, not even at the Captain’s Welcome Dinner. This was a dress-up affair again and I felt glam and extra tall in my four-inch spikes.

After dinner, we paid our shipboard accounts and packed our bags, which were deposited in the main lobby. I hated always leaving my luggage out of sight.

I was ready to get off the ship and looked forward to a new adventure in the morning.

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Additional links:

This link gives brief blurbs about the various ghosts.

This one provides a 4.12-minute tour but is difficult to understand.

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Next time on September 8, Chongquin, Part 1

© 2017 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

FYI: This is a re-blog of the best parts of my trip in 2014

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I am currently on an unplanned sabbatical. Please bear with me. I hope to return soon. 
Thank you for reading. I DO appreciate your kind and continued support more than I can express.

Author: Let's CUT the Crap!

I'm getting a little LONG in the tooth and have things to say about---ouch---AGEing. I believe it's certainly a state of mind but sometimes it's nice to hear that you're NORMAL. I enjoy reading by the truckload. I'm a grandma but I don't feel OLD although I'm not so young anymore. My plan is to stick it out as long as I can on this lovely planet and only will leave it kicking and screaming!

One thought on “On the Yangtze, Part 7

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