I often feel drawn back to the Yangtze's muddy shore in my last days in Chongqing. Chaotianmen Ferry Terminal stands where the olive-drab Jialing River meets the Yangtze's chocolatey flow. Ships of all sizes swarm the shoreline in a slow-mo game of bumper boats. A man cradles his son on stone stairs leading to Chongqing's busy docks. Fishermen cast their nets from rocking canoes while their wives paddle against the current.
Coal barges, shallow draft cargo ships and tugs crowd the narrow channel.
And while farmers from the surrounding countryside cram rusting ferryboats to the gunwales, Russian-built hydrofoils zip past. With their long tail fins and Sputnik-styling, they seem wonderfully kitschy throwbacks. Most of the boats eschew the crowded dock and simply ground themselves on the river's shore. Porters carry inhuman loads on their shoulders with nothing more than rope and a bamboo stave. The wiry men swarm new arrivals, and bundles of green veggies on one side are quickly balanced against a television set on the other.