Around 9.30 we arrive in Wuhan where our boat docks alongside a modernist building in the shape of a ship, or perhaps waves? After a very long walk through crowded, bustling streets, we arrive at the Aiguo hotel 爱国宾馆, where the three-person dorms are mixed, but very cold: our breath comes out in clouds.
We wash our clothes, hang them up inside the room and aim a fan at them; all to no avail, as we will soon find out.
Then we go out and snack on cakes and something called doupi 豆皮: bean curd stuffed with rice and deep-fried. We find them a bit greasy, but they apparently were Mao’s favourite snack, so who are we to complain?
We spend the hours between 13.00 and 17.00 marching up and down Wuhan’s main street: from our hotel to the boats, to the Bank of China, back to the boats, etc., desperately searching for a Chinese person who A. can speak English, and B. is willing to buy Chinese-price boat tickets for us. None of the money changers are interested, none of the other, boarding passengers seem to understand what we want and the two American teachers we bump into claim they have no time … They do urge, almost beg us, to come to their flat in the evening for a little party, as they haven’t spoken to any other Westerners for ages; they seem pretty desperate but, our minds on more important matters, we won’t commit ourselves.
We waste almost the entire day in Wuhan trying to getting those elusive tickets to Chongqing, Adam and I are happy to give up the ghost by early afternoon, much to the disappointment of Mike, our temporary travelling companion, whose sole purpose in China seems to consist of trying to avoid paying foreigner’s price for anything; so we keep on trying.
Alas, just before closing time we are forced to give up and buy foreigners’ tickets for over 200 Yuan. We take a deep breath and hand over the cash. Done.
Now we just need to get some new supplies: instant noodles, instant coffee, chilli, biscuits and fruit; the usual. Of course, this is when we come across the only English speaking Chinese person in Wuhan, who knows exactly what we were after… What a bummer!
To make up for our financial set-back, we have an exceedingly cheap dinner – greasy fried rice and mapu dofu (spicy bean curd) for Y 2,50 each – washed down with even cheaper beer at Y 0, 80.
When we get back to our freezing hotel room, it turns out that all the floor attendants have just washed their hair in our adjacent bathroom and used up all the hot water. Fuming, Adam storms downstairs, armed with a dictionary and shouting the magical words: “hot water! Now!” The flustered staff decide to open up two other rooms for us, so that Adam and I can squeeze ourselves into a tiny bath tub together, while Mike is forced to take his shower right next to a foul-smelling, blocked toilet.
And that was our Wuhan experience. In spite of the day’s difficulties, it didn’t seem an unpleasant city; we saw some stately, European-style buildings, many tree-lined streets and avenues, lots of well-stocked shops and excellent food markets with a wide variety of vegetables on display. Pity we didn’t have the time to explore a bit more.