Navigating Chongqing

Yesterday, I successfully navigated the city of Chongqing by myself. This was a major accomplishment in my opinion. Chongqing is one of the largest cities in the world by administrative area, surpassing Beijing and Shanghai by 10 and 6 million people respectively. It is built on mountains surrounding the intersection of the Jialing and Yangtze Rivers, and skyscrapers cover every inhabitable inch. There have to be well over a thousand tall buildings, with many more in various stages of construction. According to an independent website, there are 539 buildings in Chongqing that are over 40 stories high. In Chicago, there are 72.

This city is so big there is not one “downtown”, but six. I met up with some other Americans who suggested we go to the only Mexican restaurant in Chongqing because it was fairly close to their school and we were all in the mood for something Western. Close was a relative term because it was a forty-minute cab ride, and I felt like I was on a foggy, densely populated, Chinese version of Michigan Avenue the whole time. This picture of the main skyline in the Yuzhong District should give you a small-scale idea of the vastness of Chongqing:

I had ventured in with Justin, the other American here in Hechuan, so allowed him to do most of the work as he speaks Chinese fairly well. He left Saturday afternoon while I stayed overnight, so Sunday morning it was time for me to make my way back by myself. I caught a taxi to a bus station, and picked out the characters for which bus I needed easily because the characters for Hechuan are fairly simple. It looks like this:

合川

 Hechuan means the reunion (the first character which looks like a house) of three rivers (the second character). Bus ticket in hand, I spotted my gate and beamed at everyone I passed because I had gotten this far without a hitch.

The problem came when the bus arrived back in Hechuan. I was dropped off at a different station then the one we had left from, and had no idea where I was. On top of that, I could not hail a cab because every one was busy as a result of the Mid-Autumn Festival. Forty-five minutes later, I was hot, tired, and frustrated that things had suddenly gone so wrong. Finally, I ventured up to the place I had been keeping in the back of my mine as a last resort. I flagged down one of the unlicensed motorcycle taxi drivers that are incredibly prevalent all over China, which you can read more about here. These taxis whip in and out of traffic, often ignoring red lights and driving down lanes the wrong way.

Since these taxis are unlicensed, you negotiate the price beforehand. I had no idea what an average price was or how far my school was from where we were. When I showed the driver my address, he said “ba yuan” (8 yuan or $1.20). Since this was slightly cheaper than a taxi ride and I was in no mood to negotiate, I hopped on. During that ten-minute ride across town, I have never been so scared for my life. We swerved in and out of lanes, sometimes squeezing between two cars or buses, took corners too quickly, and sped over potholes making me fly up in my seat. Despite all that, I think that my driver was trying to take it relatively easy on me as we were passed by dozens of other motorcyclists flying by without helmets. This is for good reason one of the most dangerous forms of transport in China, and one I will hopefully never have to experience again.

Needless to say, after navigating around China for the first time alone, I was happy to be safely back in my apartment.