Chongqing

We've had two remarkable days in Chongqing, the city where my parents met and married, the first exceptional for a clear blue sky, and the second for torrential rain. "It's filthy but fascinating" said Audrey when she landed here in 1943, and that's still pretty much the case. It has one of the most dramatic locations of Chinese megacities, with the central city jutting out like the prow of a ship (Han Suyin's metaphor) to the point where the Yangtze and the Jialing rivers meet. On a clear day like yesterday you can really appreciate the backdrop of mountains on both sides.

We've spent most of our time digging up the few remnants of the wartime capital city, and although I've been here before, I made some new discoveries with the help of our amazing guide, Sun Ying. Yesterday we began at the restored headquarters of the American general, 'Vinegar Joe' Stilwell, who was sent out here by Roosevelt (bizarrely) to be chief of staff to Chiang Kai-shek. They developed a hearty dislike for each other, and Stilwell must have hated trekking out from his residence, above the Jialing River, to pay homage to the Generalissimo at his estate in the hills south of the Yangtze - probably two hours away at the time. But he probably enjoyed living in his cliffside house - a handsome art deco style residence, with parquet floors, high ceilings and wood paneling. A long covered verandah runs the length of the house overlooking the river, and must have been good and airy.

Later we went in search of the residence loaned to the wartime British Ambassadors by Chiang Kai-shek, after the Embassy was damaged by Japanese bombing. It's called Feige, which means 'Flying Pavilion', and it's perched high up in Eling Park, also overlooking the Jialing River. It's a Chinese-style villa with a green tiled roof and upturned eaves. The main meeting room is hexagonal, and the dining room behind it is fan-shaped and the floor slopes away from the river - all features that provide good feng shui. This was certainly a happy spot for Max and Audrey, because it was here that the wife of Ambassador Sir Horace Seymour announced their engagement at a Christmas Day lunch for 100 or so guests. I found it hard to picture the original setting, because there have been lots of alterations - walls taken out (an original 14 rooms reduced to 6 or 7), windows boarded up, and the whole place decked out as a souvenir shop. Feige's young Chinese guide alternated between explaining its place in history (notable mainly to China for being the setting of a banquet given by Chiang for his rival Mao in 1945), and trying to sell us pricey antique artefacts - whose sale would apparently benefit people displaced by the Three Gorges Dam, from whose villages these artefacts came. Mike was particularly taken with the Qing dynasty 'sex education' jades of couples in various explicit poses!

After lunch and negotiations with a car rental agency, we explored Lingshi Xiang - Consulate Alley - the heart of the old diplomatic area which is now a shabby inner-city neighborhood. I'd walked around here with Sun Ying three years ago but we'd never found the British Embassy building. She didn't give up the search though, and this time she led us to a grand European porticoed mansion, tucked away in a compound owned by a Chongqing Supply Company. This was it - in just the right position, and large enough to be an important Embassy. Like most historic buildings in Chongqing, it is in a sad state of repair but still impressive. When my mother traveled out from England in 1943 to work for a senior diplomat, she was housed in temporary offices put up in the gardens below the Chancery - and known as the Cabbage Patch. These are long gone, and the land built over, but as we walked around inside the main building we could imagine all the bustle of the wartime days.

We headed downhill, rediscovering the old house where my father worked as assistant air attache - this has actually been done up a bit, saved from becoming completely derelict since my last visit. In the street nearby lots of people were gathered under an awning, a wake for someone whose flower-bedecked coffin lay at the end of the tent. We saw people walking uphill through a very narrow alley near my father's office, and decided to explore. The path led us down eventually all the way to the Yangtze - imagining the route that my mother must have taken after work, if she missed the Embassy transport and had to walk downhill to the ferry that would take her back to her digs on the south side. Our walk was quite a glimpse of old, poor Chongqing - past market stalls of shiny fruit and vegetables, raw meat and basic workmen's shoes and clothes, past cramped and dilapidated dwellings, and the thousands of people who still live and work in these neighborhoods. At one point, there was an overwhelming stench of sewage - turning a corner we saw a couple of men pumping raw sewage out of a blocked drain into the street - much cleaner than 60 years ago, but this city of 10 million still has its filthy spots.

Time to have breakfast and get going on our road trip, so more later.