The next part of my journey took me to Chengdu, the capital
of Sichuan Province. The first thing I noticed about Chengdu was how incredibly
ordinary it was. Large, busy, and very boring to look at. Over the last ten
years I have visited several capital cities and each has had its own charm;
Beijing is full of interesting historical sites, Shanghai is glamorous with
amazing nightlife and Xian veiled in a kind of exoticism I have yet to
experience in any other city. Chengdu seemed to lack all of these qualities. It
was something of a comedown to arrive into another dull city after the beauty
of Jiuzhaigou, but the weather was glorious and I had high hopes of getting to
see my beloved Giant Panda again.
The next thing I noticed almost immediately was the locals
of Chengdu. I have long heard that the most beautiful women in China come from
Sichuan and I was struck very quickly by just how true this was. On a day to
day basis here in China, I often feel like a great lumbering hag surrounded by
tiny Eastern beauties, but never have I ever felt so much like that as I did in
Chengdu. My first bus ride from the airport to the hostel showed me that. I
vividly remember standing in an overfilled bus, wearing clothes badly in need
of washing and loaded up with my oversized backpack, sweating in thirty degree
heat and desperate for a shower when I caught myself staring enviously at these
gorgeous women with perfect porcelain skin, lovely silky hair, beautifully
dressed and apparently completely devoid of sweat glands. I will never fail to
admire the Chinese and their inability to perspire in 90% humidity.
This in turn had me thinking about Chinese men… If Chengdu
apparently held the most beautiful women in the country, then where are all the
beautiful men? Geographically I was pretty much at the halfway point of my
journey and I’d yet to be wowed in the aspect. I was beginning to think perhaps
they had all left the country. Perhaps I just hadn’t been to the right places
yet? I was hoping for the latter…
After I arrived at my hostel, I declined to take up my usual
habit of immediately showering and sorting out my desperate laundry situation,
in favour of heading without delay to the front desk to inquire about my
pandas. I had heard a mixture of depressing news since my trip started. Rumour
had it the bad weather had restricted access to the Chengdu Research and
Breeding Base, which is without doubt China’s premier Giant Panda reserve, and
where I have been desperate to visit for as long as I’ve known of its
existence. Another person I had met told me I would only be able to see fully
grown pandas, it was completely the wrong season to see any smaller ones, which
was what I was really keen to check out. I approached the desk with a heavy
feeling in my heart, preparing myself for the disappointment of being told I
would not see any pandas on this visit.
The news however was great! The Research Base was in full
working order, the pandas were ready and raring to be visited, and there was
room for me to join a tour at 7:00am the very next morning. Boom! Done! After a
large amount of cash was exchanged it was sorted. The whole process had left me
so excited I was nearly sick. No time for that though, my three outfits I had
packed for six weeks of travel were not going to wash themselves…
So, as I’ve mentioned before on this very blog, the Giant
Panda is more comfortable in the cool bamboo forests up in the Sichuan Mountains,
and here I was trying to visit them in the middle of the summer. Consequently
our tour group needed to be up and on the way to the base as early as possible,
before the hottest part of the day, when the furry little balls prefer to move
inside into air-conditioned comfort. As soon as we arrived we were escorted
toward the back of the reserve to an indoor enclosure complete with six small
pandas, all ten months old, and no bigger than 40cm tall (when sitting… which
is their preferred state of being). We were able to watch them playing from
behind Perspex and they looked super cute, however the filthy window was not allowing
me to take any decent photos, and I was feeling a little disappointed thinking
this was as good as it would get. I was wrong! Soon we were herded toward an
outdoor area attached to the indoor panda house. The area was resplendent with
a large wooden fort, covered with fresh cut bamboo and I was able to stand only
a mere two metres away with a perfect unobstructed view. I made sure to elbow
small children and old people out of my way to guarantee the best position for
photos. I figure nearly 30 years of polite queuing and careful regard for
others had earned me the right to be rude for 10 minutes in what would have to
be my favourite moment ever.
At 9:30 exactly the
pandas had their door opened for them and out they all tumbled. Six small
pandas came running toward the bamboo, in a lumbering way only pandas can and
my heart soared. Over the next half an hour I got to watch and take some
amazing photos of these gorgeous creatures playing, eating and rolling around
in the bamboo. But next came the best
part!
The day before I had organised not only to go to the Reserve
and see the pandas, but I had also paid a great deal of money to have an extra
special visit, with some one on one time with my favourite animal. I was taken
away from my group and placed in another, where we were taken through to the
panda nursery and given some really lovely outfits to put on. Once we had put
on our gowns, gloves and shoe covers, we may have all looked like we had
escaped from a hospital, but were ready for our panda time.
As I stood in line watching the people in front of me
holding this super cute ten month old lump of a panda, waiting as patiently as
I could for my turn, I could feel that burning in my eyes again. Like anyone,
I’ve always had big dreams of seeing and doing certain things, but have also
struggled to reconcile with the idea of ever really being able to do them. But here I was, about to hold and cuddle what
must be the cutest and rarest animals in the world, and I felt like a raw
nerve. I wasn’t even holding the damn thing yet and I was already on the verge
of tears.
After maybe 40 minutes of waiting in line I finally got my
turn. I sat down and had the fluff ball placed on my lap with strict
instructions to simply hold him around his waist and not to touch his head or
ears. They may be cute and cuddly looking, but they are still bears, and still
have sharp teeth and claws. So I did as I was told and held my new friend
carefully in my lap and tried to commit to memory my initial impressions. He
was really heavy, easily 40 kilograms, I don’t know what I expected but I was a
little surprised at how much weight was in him. He was also fluffy as all get
out and super soft to boot. The outfits we were made to wear were designed to
not have any of our skin exposed while touching the pandas, but as the panda
was being placed on my lap, the sleeve of my gown rode slightly up my arm and I
was able to feel just how soft he was on my bare skin. Also, somewhat
surprisingly, he did not smell anything other than lovely. But my suspicion is that he might have been
bathed just prior to meeting us.
While I sat there, trying harder than ever not to cry, the
little panda sat contentedly and gnawed away at a bamboo stick covered in
honey. Every few minutes he would finish licking all the honey off and would
throw the stick to the ground and reach out expectantly for a new one, which
his keepers were quick to replace. He did not move much, he never attempted to
wriggle away from me, instead preferring to be quietly held as he nibbled away
at his sweet treat.
During my one on one time there were two staff members who
were designated to capture the moment for me. One was a professional
photographer and there is another nursery worker who takes as many photos as
they can with your own camera. I also managed to convince the lady in line
ahead of me to stay after she was finished at take some more photos for me with
my iPad, which she was happy to oblige, given I had just done the same for her. By the end of my time with the panda I had
more photographs to remember the occasion than I ever thought possible. Perhaps
my favourite moment that was captured was when the little fellow stopped
chewing his bamboo, twisted his head up to look at me, proceeded to sniff my
face then take a little nibble on my chin. I like to think I must have a slight
bamboo-esque scent about me that appeals to pandas.
It was roughly about this time that you can see in the
photographs, if you look close enough, that I have tears on my cheeks. For the
second time in a week I felt overwhelmed with love for my life and the amazing
experiences I was having.
I spent a few more days after this in a cloudy panda hugging
haze, feeling like Sichuan was fast becoming a firm favourite of my China tour,
and as my time in Chengdu was winding towards a close I was anticipating
visiting Emei Shan before leaving the province for Yunnan. Emei Shan has long
been ranked in the top ten places to visit in China and I had read much of its
beautiful scenery, amazing hiking trails and extremely cheeky monkeys. The
entry fee into the mountain reserve was pretty steep, and like most places had
been hiked up for the peak season and was closing in at ¥220, the most
expensive entry fee so far. Given the wonderful things I had heard I decided
this was an opportunity not to be missed and I bought a ticket to Emei via long
distance bus.
Before leaving I had done a little research and pre-booked a
hostel that appeared to be quite new but had received good reviews so far. I
arrived late in the evening and was dead tired and looking forward to another
early night. I was greeted warmly by Carrie the owner, in a foyer that looked
more hotel than hostel, and she proceeded to give me a coffee and give me a
rundown of how best to approach the mountain the next day. So far, things were
looking good, but I was wrong. So wrong.
Next I was taken up three floors and shown to my dorm room.
I was told I was very lucky as no one else was currently booked in so I had the
dorm to myself. This should have been a good indication of things to come.
Carrie opened the door and showed me into what was clearly a mistake; she had
accidently lead me into a linen closet! The room was no wider than 1.5 meters
and no longer than 2.5. There was room for a bunk bed and a very narrow bench
and nothing else. When she started pointing out the features of the room, it
dawned upon me that this was in fact no closet; this was to be my home for the
next three nights. Incidentally, the features included a working window that
had a view out to a brick exterior of the next hotel and a bug repellent I could
plug into the wall. It was pretty much the saddest looking room I had ever
seen. By this time it was 11pm and I was
about to hit a wall. I would have slept comfortably in the gutter by this
point.
The next day I planned to get up at around 6am to get ready
for a full day of hiking. The weather was due to be sunny and clear and I was
determined to beat the crowds by arriving as early as possible. But before I
left I was in need of a bathroom. Sadly my small cupboard was not complete with
ensuite and I instead had to walk down three flights of stair to the shared
bathroom. “But shared with whom?” I hear
you ask. It must be virtually like a private bathroom if there are no others
staying in the dorm. Not so my friends, I was sharing this bathroom with both
patrons of the hotel’s restaurant and the kitchen staff.
If it has not been made clear already by my description,
please let me explain. I was not staying in a hostel; I was staying in a
converted storage room in a hotel. So I was reduced to walking down through the
restaurant where Chinese people were eating breakfast, to the bathroom that was
to be shared by all of us, which consisted of a squat toilet with a shower over
the top of it. The shower was literally attached to the kitchen and as I went
in and locked the door behind me I could hear the kitchen staff chatting and
cooking like they were in the toilet with me. I turned and looked about me and
quickly made the assessment that this was not the bathroom for me. The
unfortunate location was just the beginning. Sitting in the sink, on the floor
and in the toilet were remnants of chopped vegetables, which pretty much
convinced me I needed to a) not shower and leave immediately and b) not ever
eat in the restaurant. Without having even put my toiletries down I made the
decision to forgo this shower and instead wait until the evening when hopefully
it would somehow transform itself into a normal bathroom.
I returned to my cubbyhole and washed with baby wipes and
doused myself in deodorant. After realising I had scrubbed up pretty well and
decided to get out there and see this amazing mountain right away. It was
looking a little grey outside but I had been told by several people the weather
was due to be lovely, so I decided to risk leaving my umbrella behind,
believing it would clear up and become warm in no time. Oh how wrong I was!!
Despite my early start, the queues to the mountain were
enormous and by 7am there were already thousands of people pushing and shoving
their way up the mountain. It was colder than I expected and still shaping up
to be grey for a while, but I decided to persevere and push on through the huge
crowds, clinging to the hope the amazing views would be worth it. After several
hours of weaving in and out of tourists, struggling to gain any distance and
becoming increasingly frustrated with the hordes I finally reached the Golden
Summit and I nearly cried and not from joy this time. Visibility was nil. The
top of the mountain was shrouded in a white mist and I quite literally could
not see more than four feet in front of me.
I wandered around for a little while hoping to catch a glimpse of
something, anything, through the white fog. In the end I found a concrete bench
in the haze and plonked myself down determined to wait it out and see the mist
clear up.
 |
| The only photo I took that wasn't just fog. |
I waited for nearly an hour before the damp fog turned into
drizzle. I was cold, hungry and becoming increasingly damp and irritated. Since
it was impossible to enjoy the view from the Golden Summit through the fog, the
Chinese tourists had taken to starring at the only thing they could see, yours
truly. Now being gawked at by locals is all part of the experience of being a
foreigner in China and it hardly ever bothers me. I am used to being pointed
at, whispered about, shouted at and being asked to have photos taken. It is par
for the course. But every now and then the novelty wears thin. It was shaping
up to be one of those days. Under normal circumstances I will happily have my
photo taken and talk to the small children who stare bewildered at me but at
that very moment all I wanted was to be left alone. The final straw came when a
rotund, middle aged man came over to me, took my photo without asking and then
laughingly called me fat. It was more
than this cranky Australian could handle. I snatched up my bag, shot him a
filthy look, and decided to leave the mountain.
I came back to my
storeroom, looked about me, and decided to treat myself to an upgrade to the
next cheapest room with a private bathroom. An hour later I was walled up in my
own spacious twin room and loving it. No vegetables in the toilet and now
featuring an air-conditioning unit as opposed to a non-operational fan. I spent the rest of the night drinking red
wine on my own and trying to work out if I could afford to leave Emei sooner
than anticipated.
