So once again, the same pattern to start the day, of rising early + catching the bus down to the wharf. But with what different feelings we were doing so! This time there was a lightness in our hearts + steps, + buying some dumplings (of course) first, we went aboard with a jaunty air. There were 5 travellers aboard: John the Irishman + his American friend Gerry, Guiseppini, Val + me, + we were all put into the same cabin (along with 19 Chinese.) And we spent much of the morning chatting in the most amiable of manners, with John telling us of his various travels in Asia for much of the time. He is a carpenter in London, earning enough in 3 months every year to go travelling for the other 9. I had been extremely apprehensive about how well I would get on with Guiseppini, but in fact we all got on well. She was pleasant, friendly, + amiable, + had lost the silliness that so grated before.
Apart from that, there was nothing to do but doze + read + write + watch the riverside go by. And after lunch, an entirely acceptable offering, I played John at chess, finishing up narrowly ahead, having won one game + drawn two. He gave us a few new thoughts to consider, chiefly the idea of taking some time to visit Bangladesh, a country he was very enthusiastic about.
We managed to mess things up for dinner, arriving there just in time to grab a bowl of peanuts, the only dish they hadn’t yet entirely cleared away. Luckily it didn’t matter – we were docked for the night at the small town of Wanxian, where we would be able to get out for a few hours. That was at 8 o’clock, + we had until 12 as shore leave. Finding somewhere + something to eat was not quite as easy as we had hoped, particularly since Guiseppini is a vegetarian, but eventually we settled upon a place. I was immediately thrown into a foul mood by not being able to buy a bowl of beer at what I knew to be a fair price, even tho’ I could see lots of local blokes there drinking the stuff. I knew they weren’t trying to do me, it was a misunderstanding of some sort, but this made it all the more frustrating. It quite spoiled my meal (not that that was anything special), my temper only being restored when I did find some, at a fair price, at the next place. So we all sat down + had beer + peanuts. So once again I got myself mildly pickled – with beer at 8c a litre, it’s hard to resist.
Back on board, I took the radio up on to the top deck, sat myself down, + listened to ball by ball commentary on the cricket over the headphones. Until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, that is, + went down to my bunk.
The first part of a river journey, before one realises that it is going to be pretty much the same view throughout the journey, are generally pleasant, and so it was here. As is clearly outlined here, however, I do allow myself to be dragged into a foul mood by even small setbacks, though the beer which followed did seem to get me back into a more amiable mood.
