Matt Schiavenza From the Dragon to the Apple- A Sinophile in New York

Chungking Express

I'm currently writing from the comforts of the Starbucks just astride the Liberation Monument right in the center of Chongqing, China, where I'm attending a work-related conference. My hotel, the conference room where my meetings have been, and my hotel form a triangle representing a mere sliver of this city. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to throw out thinly-referenced, totally unfair perceptions gleaned from my few days here.

Chongqing by some accounts is the largest city in the world. This might come as a surprise to some of you who, while your knowledge of Chinese geography might not be Magellan-like in its thoroughness, still think you'd know a fact like this. In fact, this distinction relies a little too much on misleading accounting.

Amid its various provinces, special administrative regions, and laughably named 'autonomous regions', China has four cities that serve as their own province: Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and Chongqing. Until 1997, Chongqing was snuggled neatly in the eastern part of Sichuan Province. After a bit of administrative maneuvering, it is a province of its own.

So while there are technically 30 million people in Chongqing, this figure represents the population of the province, not the city. An area, mind you, roughly the size of the Netherlands. Fuling, the city made famous in Peter Hessler's River Town, is now considered part of Chongqing.

Chongqing itself then isn't the largest city in China, much less the world. This isn't to say, though, that it's in any way small. It's astonishingly, mind-blowingly big. The skyline appearing on the banks of the Yangtze River stretches on for miles in all directions. Everywhere one looks in this city- provided the notorious air pollution isn't particularly nasty that day- there are gigantic apartment and office blocks. The city's many hills also allow for a number of neck-craning vistas during a day's stroll around the center.

Chongqing is also known for its hot food- and hot women. Proving the former conviction is as easy as a bite of the city's tongue-numbing hot pot cuisine.  As for the latter, conclusive evidence is rather more subjective, but in the humble opinion of this blogger the reputation is justified. Also hot- the tempers of the locals here. I knew the Sichuanese were fiery but even I was surprised to witness two near-fracases (fracasi?) in the space of five minutes while quietly eating a bowl of dandan noodles (担担面) only the aptly named Good Food Street (好吃街).

Tomorrow night I fly back into the mountainous redoubt I call home: Yunnan Province. But in the meantime I'll enjoy my last 24 hours in one of China's three furnances, one whose name rather unfortuantely has been given to a well-known Hong Kong slum guesthouse.