The boat was an old Chinese one that had self evidently seen some sterling service throughout its long life. Hopefully it would carry on in the same vein for our passage to Chongqing. She slipped her moorings and eased out into the current,increasing the melismatic throb of her engines,as she drove powerfully against the flow.  Soon the lights of the harbour and Yichang slipped further from view as the night drew in, so we came in from the deck and got  settled in our cabin. Sleep beckoned with the throb and vibration of the “Dragons” diesel engines.
Slept soundly and woke to find a grey day. Went on deck and saw that lynn had gathered a few of the chinese passengers around her, apparently much taken with the colour of her hair and what she happened to be reading, also intrigued as to  what age she was (age is venerated in China). However,there is no such thing as “personal space” in China so the group was tightly woven, and all seemingly happy to converse in sign language. and ooooooo’s and aaaaaaa’s.
The time slipped by and the landscape changed from industrial to agrarian back to industrial and then a bucolic country idyll.All too soon we arrived in Chongqing.A city in flux as highly post modern architecture begins to sublimate the hitherto,heavily influenced communist blandness populated with huge high rise apartment blocks built with unambitious utilitarian precepts.