China Diaries – 4

Chongquing to Chengdu – 24 May

When I last wrote we were on the cruise boat, all set to leave the Yangtze River.

In the morning drizzle we had to walk across the gang planks, flip flops splashing through puddles, our luggage heavy. The way ahead seemed interminable.

Suddenly the Bang Bang boys arrived. Oh what joy, and so unexpected. These were the ‘luggage wallahs’ – a black market service that was just so welcome. A thin wiry man with a pole across his shoulders heaved our bags up the steep hill and up vertical steps. The little legs moved with the ease of a centipede. We plodded behind, terrified we might slip.

We were in Chongqing, famous for the ‘three hots’ i.e. hot climate, hot girls and Hot Pot. Frank also told us that it was here that Chiang Kai-shek had his headquarters for the Nationalist government from 1939-45. Apparently he had imprisoned 200 communists in a cave and shot them all before leaving for Tai Wan.

But now it is a huge city of 36 million, including the suburbs, and as we struggled up behind our bang bang ‘boy’ we saw hawkers with oranges, eggs, live chickens and squirming eels in baskets. It was hard to concentrate on the task in hand which was to get up to the bus safely.

At a traffic light we were stopped for a while in the morning rush hour. I watched as the morning commuters stopped at a pancake vendor. He was so slick, I was just mesmerised. He thinly spread a pancake on a sizzling plate then broke two eggs on to the mixture and threw on a handful of spring onions.

Then he flipped it over, spread some chilli sauce and some coriander then threw on a handful of barbecued pork then flipped the sides up to make a parcel.

What a breakfast, and it all took a couple of minutes.

We then had a blast on the bullet train. Such luxury, such speed. We recorded our top speed of 298 km. an hour.

And at last we were in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan Province.

We unloaded our luggage at the ominously named Traffic Hotel and then off we went exploring.

I loved Chengdu.

‘A city,’ Frank said, ‘which is excellent for those who are retired or who like a quiet life. You can get up, smoke four cigarettes then have a cup of tea, then a shower then two more cigarettes then go for breakfast. You can then go to the People’s Park, then amble off to look for a good restaurant selling Hot Pot.’

Well, retirees we are and so off we went to the People’s Park.

What a fabulous place. Gingko trees, vibrant flowers, bamboo and creepers, lush, lush, lush.

Oh – and a cacophony of noise! Dancers, musicians and mini orchestras.

We watched a bossy lady in a peach cardigan and scary shoes organising a dance show.

It was too much for John!

Round the corner calligraphers practised their art by painting with water on the paving stones, so beautiful, and it all just fades away.

A dating service is held along the railings. Particulars are written for those seeking love.

Our young lads got a translation. A girl, born in 1986 with very white skin and her own car was seeking love. Terence was sorely tempted. She might have been able to support him!

We sat and drank tea, then were accosted by the ear-cleaning mafia.

I succumbed to curiosity and had long skinny instruments with fluffy ends stuck in my ears; my ear doctor sported a miner’s light on his head and had a tuning fork that he vibrated in my ear drum. It actually was not unpleasant.

John was chicken, I actually think he needed the treatment more than me as he suffers from selective deafness … in my opinion!

The evening was drawing in and it was time to search for the Sichuan Hot Pot.

A steaming cauldron of boiling chilli and oils. Slivers of beef are dunked in and cooked then eaten; mushrooms, quails’ eggs, tofu and vegetables were all added. A delicious bowl of sesame oil, garlic and ginger is at hand for dipping the meat in after it is cooked.

Our noses ran, our eyes were dripping tears but still we dipped and slurped. I just loved it.

Downtown Chengdu and the night was alive with sights and sounds and we mimed the exercise class,

watched random tea ceremonies

before watching a performance of the Chinese Opera.

I nibbled sunflower seeds and downed bowl after bowl of scalding Jasmine tea. Acrobats twisted and whirled, ancient Chinese heroines screeched and a virtuoso string player made his instrument just about get up and sing for itself. Wonderful Chinese variety show.

The next morning we visited the Pandas. Chengdu means pandas to the world at large, and once we beheld those big fluffy living toys we forgot all the other plusses of this fun town. They ate their bamboo, ambled about and were actually AWAKE. All the other pandas I have had the pleasure of viewing in zoos in New Zealand and Edinburgh have been fast asleep.

Here in China they have a beautiful, spacious environment and are hugely popular, and quite rightly so.

After our visit, Frank decided to dispense with proper restaurants and took us instead to a street stall where the cook wore a rather fetching dress with a fashionable veil to hide her legs.

We got Sichuan noodles with pork. So simple, so cheap and from my point of view when I am writing this, it was the most tasty dish I ate in China. It cost £3 each.

And now on, to another night train. This  time going further south.