Let me set the scene…
I’m sitting outside Nanjing Railway Station on a slightly chilly November morning sipping on my Americano; too hot and bitter but I need it at this time of morning; and munching down my morning “baozi”. I’m gazing over Xuanwu Lake and further afield towards the cityscape and Zifeng Tower. Some of the city lights are blinking off as daylight slowly drags itself out of bed.
But this romanticised view of the city is abruptly broken as I realise I’m going to my miss my train if I don’t get a move on. Not a great start to the day, as I rush across to go through the security area and on to getting my ticket checked, where a station employee fumbles around with my passport and I silently beg him not to bend it too much like that as he attempts to scan it.
Very soon after, I’m sat comfortably in my allocated seat as the train departs. Across the Yangtze River Bridge we go, heading in a northerly direction, and then eastwards towards Nantong.
I didn’t plan on going back so soon, if at all if I’m being brutally honest, but duty calls and the chance to see and celebrate with a friend and past students of mine proved a good-enough excuse to return to the eastern Jiangsu city.
My eyes drifted from my book, a collection of poetry by Ted Hughes, from its pages to the flat, irrigated plains that seemed far removed from the imaginative, symbolic and natural themes of the poems laid out in front of me in my hands. I thought to myself that I needed another coffee to perk me up as we made our way past Yangzhou (decent food, decent lake, decent spa baths) and on towards Taizhou (note to self; might visit one day) as the carriage around me slowly emptied of other passengers. The landscape stayed flat and characterless as we pulled up at Nantong West Station, my final stop for the time being.
Let me add a little context here. I lived, taught and adopted a cat in my 2-year tenure in Nantong. Regarded by some as China’s first “modern” city, I had longed for Chengdu and my previous lifestyle whilst there, and wished away my days when the decision to move to Nanjing was finalised. Numerous friends, colleagues and students had come and gone in more recent months, but I nevertheless planned to make a day of it, wandering around my old Nantong haunts while I waited for the early evening celebrations to begin.
The Didi dropped me off downtown as I realised, Toto, I was not in Kansas anymore. Coffee number two accompanied me as I made my way to the nearby Rive Hao (濠河). Imagine an ancient wall, think Xi’an or our more familiar Nanjing, and the river acts as the same,surrounding the old city centre like a square.
To kill time, I planned to walk the entire thing; the whole 15 kilometres of it (my watch step counter had a field day that day).
Very “Jiangnan” (江南) in style, character and atmosphere, despite being north of the Yangtze; museums galore, temples and a bell tower cradle the river. I avoided the lot, sticking to the wooden walkways that accompanied the river.
My destination after walking the circumference of the squared river, a few toilet stops and quick pitstop along the way for a beef kebab, was slap bang in the middle of downtown Nantong and a stone’s throw away from the busy shopping street, although fractionally busy compared to Xinjiekou, where were Nantong’s alleys.
These are not your typical inner-city alleys full of life. Most of the long-abandoned buildings here are adorned with the character, “拆”; to be demolished. Aside from these, a historical meeting house here and a “red” tourist sight there, tiny Daoist and Buddhist temples dot these alleys that are almost soulless, eerie in their emptiness.
Although the occasional e-bike rattles past, it’s the unnerving gazes of the homeless alley cats peering down at me from the roofs of the futureless houses as I meander my way through these mazelike alleys that keep me company. Part of me almost expects to turn a corner and see lavishly dressed couples having their wedding photos done, or even the Taobao models dressed to the nines, in these ancient looking ambient alleys, but I soon realise where I am. This isn’t Nanjing’s Yihe Lu area.
Coffee number three warms my hands up as I ponder a potential final look over the panoramic River Hao and contemplate the 2 years spent here. I think of friends and times gone by. To quote Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. I long to return to the hustle and bustle of Nanjing. I also realise that I’m a very different person to the one who lived here before; I’ve moved on and I’ve got the cat souvenir to prove it.
Much like the start of my day, I remember that I’m almost running late and have places to go, and people to meet. Sightseeing or “sight-remembering” done and dusted, with no time left to head south of the city and take in Wolf Mountain or Bingjiang Park. I quickly remind myself to book my train ticket back to Nanjing, back to home, and I force a smile on my face as I prepare to have my first real human contact of the day; intimidating and territorial alley cats don’t count.
The third coffee of the day (the last one I promise myself) gives me a much-needed buzz as I wait for another Didi to cart me off to where people are waiting for me in a Korean BBQ restaurant.
