I am in Chongqing, in the near dead centre of China. It's a good place to start, having never been to China (mainland) before. I was transported here by the luxurious and efficient Dragonair, which is as luxurious and efficient as the astonishingly spacious Hong Kong airport. I was transported to the airport by the equally astonishingly efficient Hong Kong express train, which not only costs far less than the extortionate Heathrow/Gatwick/Stansted express, and doesn't have irritating TV playing, but it has an indicator board with a blue line telling you exactly where you are on your journey. On arrival at the airport station, not only are there plentiful – and free – luggage trolleys, but some have been carefully placed to face the disembarking travellers, so they needn't go to the bother of removing a trolley from the trolley rack. Little things.
Chongqing, from what I have seen so far, is skyscrapers, smog and two rivers. We are staying in the JW Marriott hotel, next to which is being built a Marriott finance centre, which – thanks to annoying remnants of jetlag, which make me exhausted at 10pm and wide awake at 11pm until 2am and thus forced to watch the Princess Bride (“chello, my name is Inigo Mantoya…”) – starts work at 6.30 on a Saturday morning. There are 27 million people living in the Chongqing conurbation, according to Simon, who met me at the airport, and most of them seemed to be on the streets last night for a Saturday stroll past the Armani and Gucci shops. Or Escada, at least. I am ashamed that I have never heard of Chongqing, though this could be because it used to be transliterated as Chungking. I have at least seen Chungking Express, but that's not much excuse for my ignorance.
There was too much competition for the oddest South China Morning Post headline yesterday, so I will list the top four and if you care, you can vote for more information on any or all of them. I know which is my favourite.
“Paralysed land activist's injuries were self-inflicted, officials say.”
“Ducks stalked by death on Widgeon Island.”
“French expat returns to Seoul and finds babies in his fridge.”
Oh, the hot pot. It is Chongqing's famous dish. It is hot and it is in a pot. We had the yin-yang variety, which is a large tin pot divided in two, with milder soup base on one side and sizzling Sichuan pepper base – Sichuan pepper being known as the “numbing pepper” – on the other. The technique is simple: Watch soup bubble. Put in whatever the hell you want. Dip in your sauce bowl. Add, if you like, the silvery powdery MSG that is on a bowl in the table and supposed to be used as a condiment. Eat, a lot. Wake up at 2am – or, in my case, remain definitely awake at 2am – and realise you're hungry because you've actually eaten a lot of mushrooms and turnip and water, and that's it.