Chongqing Travel

Chaotianmen→Monument → the people's Liberation→Liziba Light Rail to Baidi City→Wuxia

The mountains and waters of Chongqing tell stories. Look at the vortex where the two rivers meet at Chaotianmen, it is clearly the navel of the earth; The neon and time-honored lanterns of Monument to the people's Liberation are like the ups and downs of pepper and sea pepper in hot pot; Even the whistling of the light rail passing through the building carries the crisp sound of copper bells on the eaves of the suspended buildings. On this journey, we will follow the waves of the Yangtze River and chew out the layered feeling of the mountain city among the hills and ridges——

Chaotianmen: The navel of the two rivers

In the morning, Chaotianmen, like a dock worker who has just woken up, yawns and swallows the river water. The green of the Jialing River collides with the muddy yellow of the Yangtze River and twists into a Fried Dough Twists in front of the stone steps, making people want to squat down and touch the water. Ying, who set up a stall on the shore, picked up an iron pot and the oil tea "sizzled", mixed with the Sichuan opera tune broadcasted by the dock, stirred up the morning mist. The glass curtain wall of Raffles City reflects the bricks and tiles of the old city, where the new and the old clink glasses and drink the same pot of Shancheng Laoyin tea.

Monument to the people's Liberation: Time Machine of Spicy Stamping

Through the fireworks of Bayi Road, Monument to the people's Liberation sticks in the center of downtown, like a needle to calm the sea god. The old man selling sugar paintings under the pedestal, with a copper spoon turning, is like a phoenix, and the sugar threads are pulled thinner than the girl's bangs. Entering the delicious street, the vinegar aroma of sour and spicy noodles hooked people's noses as they walked. Before the stool was even heated up, a bowl of red oil dumplings had already slipped into their stomachs. Looking up and seeing the light leaking through the cracks of the high-rise building, I suddenly realized that this monument was clearly a bamboo sign, a combination of the old time of hotpot flavor and the new trend of neon signs.

Liziba: Light rail passes through the intestines, leaving a deep impression in the heart of the mountain city

I arrived early at Liziba. The light rail platform is embedded in residential buildings, like a bamboo chopstick poking through a piece of tofu. The observation deck below was already crowded with people, holding their phones and waiting for the scene of "swallowing" the light rail. The salty aroma of cured meat wafted out of the residential building, and the floral bed sheets hanging on the balcony were blown like sails by the wind passing through the building. The photographer wearing a yellow raincoat held up a "20 yuan photo" sign and helped the tourists adjust their posture: "Make a gesture of supporting the light rail with your hands, yes! Smile a bit.

Baidi City: a place where clouds dip in ink to write poetry

As the boat sailed up the river, the steep cliffs of Kuimen pressed against it, causing the river to sharply turn and throw out a string of white foam. The White Emperor City crouched on the mountainside, with blue tiles and flying eaves carrying a few idle clouds, reminiscent of the punctuation missed in Li Bai's poetry. The tour guide Lao Zhang pointed to the Wind and Rain Corridor Bridge and said, "Liu Bei was here to support himself back then, and his tears were thicker than the current river water." Turning his head, he took out Zhang's ten yuan banknote, and the back of it was printed with the Kuimen in front of him - the mountains and rivers had already been stamped with Chinese yuan and sent to every passerby with 210 yuan.

Wuxia: A pot of old soup stewed with mountains and waters

Transfer to the Little Red Boat and enter Wuxia, where water vapor rises and the mountain shadows fade away. In the split waves of the bow, a myth suddenly popped up: the Goddess Peak is the youngest daughter of the Queen Mother of the West, the Twelve Peaks are her pearl hairpins, and the clouds and mist are her dried gauze skirts. Boatman Lao Li smiled with a dry cigarette in his mouth and said, "Don't believe what's in the book! Look at those mountain folds, do they look like cured meat simmering on the old stove?" Suddenly, a wild monkey swayed over the cliff, startling a pool of white egrets, and the landscape suddenly came to life as ink animation 2.

Returning to the dining table

The returning train shook like a cradle. Fried Dough Twists with the mouth of the magnet in the pocket, the fog of Wu Gorge in the corner of the clothes, and the spiciness of the Monument to the people's Liberation on the tip of the tongue. The child sitting next to him opened the window and exclaimed, "Look!the mountains are running!" Chongqing's mountains are long legged, chasing after the river, chasing the light rail, and finally running into the dreams of tourists, turning into the floating jasmine fragrance in the old tea house's covered bowl.