Sichuan: Part Two

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.