City-hopper special #3: Nantong, Jiangsu province

It was only the day before I was heading to the airport to fly to Nantong that I learned it’s not south of Chongqing. With ‘nan’ meaning ‘south’ in Mandarin, I thought I had the geography of China sussed with a single word, but it was only when Ash looked on a map did we realize I was, in fact, a two and a half hour flight east of Chongqing, back to the coast, north of Shanghai. So Nantong is south of somewhere, just not Chongqing (which is confusing as everyone knows CQ is the centre of the world?).

After I arrived at the smallest airport I've been to so far here, it was straight to lunch with the client. Being back on the coast there was more fresh seafood, including the most enormous fish I’ve ever seen which, I was told, had just been fished from the Yangtze. I used to be a bit squeamish of any food that still had its eyes, but China is toughening me up by regularly exposing me to things I simply do not want to see. Not much can shock me now…

After the clinic had finished I was taken to my hotel and left alone for the evening. I had a quick Google search of things-to-see in Nantong, and hopped in a taxi for 20 minutes to Haohe scenic area. Initially brought to life as a man-made moat, it was created to protect the city from attack. The map showed a big square green area with water and bridges, but, as usual, there was no green to be seen! Instead I took myself down to the water’s edge and walked under bridges, over bridges, and around the most European-feeling city I have come across so far this side of the world. The sun was setting and, as you can see in the photos, the lush green trees and giant lilies made for a really wonderful ramble. The river winds around for 10km in the city centre and is allegedly one of the most well-preserved moats in China. Despite the 35 degree heat, I walked for four miles, plodding and taking photos, having a generally lovely time and basking in the sunshine (read: sweating). I’m not sure at all what I was looking at, but whilst there were no Western shops to be seen, the place still felt really comforting. It also helps that I feel very safe in China - walking past a group of men here doesn’t prompt the same nervousness as it can do back home (and if they are staring, it’s likely because they’re curious about the foreigner, not because they’re about to wolf whistle at you).

Just as the sun was setting I grabbed a Didi home and silently sent thanks for the cold air conditioning in his car. The driver said “you hot?” in English and thrust an electric fan my way. His brave attempt at English gave me the gusto I needed to try and have a chat with him in Chinese – my Chinese friends are always telling me I need to practice more (Yuki and JieLi – this one is for you). I told him I thought Nantong was beautiful, and when he asked, I explained that I live and work in Chongqing and that I was in Nantong on business. I asked him if he’s ever been to Chongqing (no) or England (no). Seven months ago I didn’t know a single word of Mandarin so this was a very proud moment for me! Knowing the language is one thing, but having the guts to just speak and see what happens is another. Conversations are hard compared to transactional speech; you experience more vocabulary, you’re likely to come across all kinds of grammar structures and there’s no way to guess what’s coming next, and that can be enough to put people (me) off even trying. Don’t get me wrong – there were a lot of ‘two ing bu dong’ (I don’t understand) and shenme? (what?) coming from me, as well as silences where there probably shouldn’t be silences, but that’s all part of the fun right?

It’s amazing what you can do when the sun comes out.