Kungfu Panda

Casey writes:

On the sleeper train from Chengdu to Xi'an, as I lay on my third tier bunk with my head hitting the ceiling, I am reflecting on the oddity which is called Chengdu. Here is a bustling city of 4.1 million people who haven't seen the sun or a blue sky since forever, due to the incredible smog and pollution; a city which has left me both loving and hating it simultaneously.

It wasn't quite love at first sight. We arrived at 5:30am after a 24 hour journey on a sleeper train from Kunming, only to realise the adjacent tube line didn't open until 6:30am. We waited patiently in the dark with a horde of other lost souls, who suddenly sprinted for the ticket machines and left us for dead. By the time we arrived, lugging our bags, the queue was half a mile long and pandemonium was erupting. We learned quickly that, in China, queueing is for losers, and that the norm is to push and shove (elbows work best), or even just blatantly walk to the very front of the line and nonchalantly pretend you've been standing there all along. Eventually, after using our backpacks as weapons and wiping out a few unsuspecting queue jumpers, we made it to the front. To our dismay, the ticket machine was completely in Mandarin and despite us holding up the line, no one was keen to assist us. We randomly pressed some buttons and paid some money, and magically, two tickets popped out. We found the train and somehow, fifteen minutes later in the midst of peak hour, we stumbled off at our stop, walked a kilometre or so and arrived at our hostel.

Fortunately our first point of call in Chengdu immediately elevated our first impressions: A day trip to the Giant Buddha in Le Shan, a two and a half hour bus ride away. Richard was virtually bouncing out of his seat with excitement and anticipation (or maybe it was just the rough road and poor bus suspension). And yes, this massive, 1200 year old heritage listed stone structure carved into a cliff face, is in fact the largest Buddha in the world. I was barely as tall as one of his toenails.

The sight was absolutely thrilling, although the one hour that it took to shuffle down a few flights of stairs amid hundreds of Chinese tourists (many of whom thought they were far too important to queue behind everyone else), tested my patience just a little. We did, however, become mini celebrities, when a dozen or so Chinese suddenly wanted to pose next to the pale skinned weirdos, and instantly cameras were flashing at us from every direction.

Chengdu has two main claim-to-fames:

1. Giant Pandas
2. The 'Sichuan Hot Pot'

Both exceeded our expectations and provided highlights of our time here.

Hot Pot: We arrived at a restaurant and an English speaking waitress took us under her wing. Soon, a massive vat of oil, chillies and peppercorns arrived, and it was our job to cook the dishes of raw meat and vegetables in the bubbling hot pot ourselves. We opted for 'huo guo' (half spicy half plain) but found that the chilli vat was definitely our preference. This proved to be a brilliant experience we will not forget.

Pandas: These awkward, uncoordinated, lazy animals can't help but be cute. Their day consists of eating, sleeping and looking sweet for the masses of tourists that descend on the Chengdu Panda Research Base each day. We didn't pay the 2000 yuan to hold a baby panda because we simply couldn't justify it, but we were mesmerised by the behaviour and character of each individual panda in the many enclosures: Some are too lazy to sit up to eat; some manage to climb trees and then spend the next half hour trying to work out how to get back down; and some just sit placidly and look lovingly at the bamboo that surrounds them. Richard and I were transfixed for hours.

On our second evening in Chengdu we went to a Sichuan Opera Show. With no operatic singing, it was more of a cultural performance, but it had beautiful sets, costumes, dancing, acrobatics, masks, and a commentary with hilariously translated English subtitles. It was here that we met an English guy who has been doing almost our exact overland trip, but in reverse, starting in England. The one major difference between him and us puts us to shame... he is CYCLING the whole way from Istanbul to Hong Kong. What a show off! But I am very impressed and actually a little envious.

The People's Park in Chengdu is a sight to behold. We meandered in, hoping for some tranquility to counterbalance the mania of the city streets. Instead, we were faced with more noise and chaos than anything we'd witnessed before. Everywhere we looked, there were groups of dancers, karaoke singers, cat walk exhibitions and other random performances, all with stereos blaring, trying to drown out their neighbours. Hundreds of people were watching each performance. Definitely no serenity. We stumbled upon a children's mini theme park, and before we knew it, we were riding the very poor excuse for a roller coaster.

From The People's Park we headed to Tianfu Square, a magnificent square in the heart of the city, where the centre point is a giant statue of Mao saluting his people. Conscious that we had been spending money at a rate that was exceeding our budget, we opted to eat a cheap dinner. We found ourselves in a corner shop that looked more like a milkbar, but which offered noodle dishes for around $1 per plate. It didn't look the cleanest of facilities, but we'd successfully eaten in much worse establishments in recent weeks, so we figured we had nothing to lose. As we were eating, we noticed the huge rat who had obviously deemed the restaurant beyond even his own hygiene standards, and he'd launched himself out of the restaurant without looking each way, and ended up a squashed mess of rat intestine flattened on the road in perfect view of our table. The stomach cramps I experienced that night were perhaps a warning that in future we will need to consider our dinner options more carefully, but fortunately the pain settled and I did not suffer any further ill effects. We were extremely excited for our final day in Chengdu. At the advice of our hostel, we arrived at the train station to buy tickets for the heritage listed Dujiangyan Irrigation Project, which apparently has stunning scenery and a rich history. When we were told that the trains were already booked out, we disappointedly resorted to Plan B, which was a half hour walk to another significant site; The Tomb of Wang Jian. We arrived to find a huge padlocked door, and a guard shaking his head and waving us away. Despite being advertised as open, yet again our plans had proved unsuccessful. It was at this point that the stress of these two failures became too much for Richard. He hadn't had his daily morning fix of Coca Cola, and so he resorted to his own personal solution: Foot stamping, hand clenching and whining 'I want pop!' in what can only be described as the best tantrum I have ever seen from an adult. We did end up visiting the nice Wenshu Temple instead, and wandering through some pretty city streets, but it was a frustrating end to what had proved to be an overall difficult city. We also strolled through the Cultural Park, which emitted the peace and tranquility that The People's Park was lacking. Determined to add some excitement to our day, we spotted some (very old and dirty) hire boats on the lake in the park, and decided this was the perfect solution to our dull morning. the next thing we knew we were sitting in what I can only describe as a pseudo submarine, motoring around the lake to the bemused looks of the hundreds of locals sitting and staring while they sipped their tea in the surrounding teahouses. While I was in charge of the plastic gun mounted on the front of the submarine, Richard's driving skills impressed me very much, and he managed to manouvre us around tight bends and under a very low bridge. He may not have a car licence, but the good news is that submarines are his new forte.

Our overnight sleeper train was due to depart Chengdu at 9:15pm. As usual, we arrived at the station ridiculously early, for our own peace of mind. In this instance, our two hour buffer nearly wasn't enough, as we spent an hour and a half queuing, arguing, queuing, arguing, then queuing again, in an attempt to pick up some pre-booked tickets for a day excursion we'd planned for a few days time in Xi'an. We had paid our hostel a hefty commission to book the tickets online for us, in the hope it might save us the hassle of trying to do it all in Mandarin at the station. Instead, when we arrived at the ticket office and produced our printed receipts, we were told that the names on our tickets were different to our passports. The darling receptionist at our hostel had only entered our first names, and despite our passports clearly proving who we were, bureaucracy barred us from collecting our tickets. We'd paid in cash at the hostel so a refund wasn't an option, and it wasn't until we'd tried every tactic in our capacity, including crocodile tears, anger, and basically any behaviour that we thought would cause a big enough scene, that we finally had our tickets amended and printed. We then had the frantic sprint to the sleeper train terminal and managed to catch our overnight train by a matter of minutes.

Stressed, sweaty and annoyed, we settled into our beds for the night after being a temporary entertainment venue for our fellow Chinese passengers who wanted to point at us and try to talk to us in Mandarin (with VERY limited success).

And on that note, I'm rolling over and about to go to sleep, very grateful for the metal bar stopping me falling out of this ridiculously high bunk bed, because the train is lurching and shunting as though the driver has modelled his style on that of the many crazy bus drivers who have made some of our previous trips such a delight. Earplugs in, snoring buddies drowned out... goodnight!