“On one hand, the world is rather crowded. On the other, you can ask for a lifeline anytime and there’s a fair chance someone is willing to throw one to you and pull.” – Old Sean
Relief and Arrival in Chengdu
So, if a person in Chongqing were to, hypothetically, hop on a train to a city directly northwest, that person would find themselves in a fantastic metropolitan known as Chengdu.
The first thing I love about this sprawling town? It’s flat. No hills to hike up, and the roads don’t follow curving mountain valleys. I can go exploring anywhere without worrying about an uphill return hike.
I landed myself in Chengdu for the purpose of finalizing my Visa because as my boss has repeatedly warned me, “Charm isn’t an exemption from deportation.” He’s wise like that.
First Hour in Chengdu
The first thing I did upon visiting Chengdu was stop at the local worker’s visa office and turn in all my paperwork. English was scarce here, but I was told I just needed to wait one day for everything to be sorted. Satisfied that I had achieved my prime goal, I went looking for my hostel.
However, at this point, I hit a hiccup.
My company had booked a hostel for my night in Chengdu, but they had made a slight oversight. The hostel was a Chinese hostel. Therefore, as a foreigner, I wasn’t allowed to stay overnight in the building. I pleaded my case for a while, but the Chinese hostel owner catering to Chinese citizens didn’t understand enough English. I was unable to generate sympathy.
Uncertain, I ended up walking around the streets for a while before settling into a café for some internet access. At this point, I was a little nervous. I wasn’t fluent in the local language, I didn’t have my main passport available and I couldn’t book anything online, being illiterate in Mandarin.
However, I did have an English-speaking friend in the area. I called on her help and she agreed to come pick me up, leaving work slightly early. Sadly, she was just visiting Chengdu too and her Chinese was also lacking. I was still without a place to stay when she found me.
Out in Chengdu
Since the café was closing up, we ended up leaving. I slung my small bundle of luggage across my back and followed my friend through the streets, listening to the lilt of her Yorkshire accent as we walked. She led me to an expat bar in the hopes of finding someone who could lend me a hand.
All English accents have the potential for immense endearment. It is to my abstract delight that the majority of UK citizens I’ve met use it for an alien lexicon of curse words. But, best of all, when someone from the UK introduces you to the numerous English-speaking bars of the area, you will meet their friends.
Russian Lifelines
Sometimes, when you meet a decent group of expats, they will be Russian.
And when you meet a Russian, you will drink before being invited out.
And when you are invited out, they will toss your luggage in a spare apartment bedroom, clap you on the shoulder and say you now have a place to stay, no worries.
Of course, when you are invited out, the night will turn into a blur of underground bars, midnight meanderings, jarringly spicy restaurants and skateboarding.
It’s basically the Russian version of “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.” If the Mouse spent a lot of time buying you shots and howling with laughter after hearing your less-than-stellar attempts at Russian pick-up lines.
We ended up finishing the night by lounging near a really beautiful bridge called Anshun Lang Bridge. One of the Russian guys commented that this generation of Americans were easier to get along with since they’re a touch more cynical than the previous generation. I giggled at that, which might have invalidated his opinion.
My life is generally strange, but if you had told me a month ago I was going to be rescued by some Russians living in a Chinese city, I would have been skeptical. Amused and hopeful, but skeptical.
A Russian Farewell
The following morning, my Russian roommates helped me check into a proper expat hostel. The spare hours of the morning were spent forcing some horrendous coffee-vodka down my throat “for recovery, da?”
The Russians went to work, my UK friend went to work and I took a brief shower. Despite being sleepy, I tried to visit some local sights. The one that really managed to stand out was the oldest street in the city, Jinli.
Now, generally speaking, these old, traditional streets aren’t uncommon in China. They’re usually areas in a successful city that have been refurbished in a fit of preservation instincts. They usually host a gallery of street shops, vendors, traditional buildings, brightly painted idols, temples, Zen gardens, museums with convenient English translations and live performances. It’s a bit like a Renaissance-Festival-Chinese-Theme-Park version. They still have people living in them, but they retain some of that old-world charm. The name for such a neighborhood is Hutong. (胡同/Hútòng)
Walking the Hutong
While it is highly entertaining to walk around, enjoy the sights and try all the food humanly possible, China’s populace has found a much more practical use for these areas. Namely, the practice and perfection of taking selfies amidst flattering and perplexing backgrounds.
The number of selfie-sticks waving around could have built Noah’s Ark with a tugboat for the dinosaurs.
Finally, it was about time for my train to leave back to Chongqing. I ended up walking through Tianfu Square on my way back to the station before clattering home, squeezed between two old guys who kept trying to get me to play cards with them.
Chengdu, in every sense of the word, was a deeply appreciated visit. I hope to return again soon.
Until then, best regards and excellent trails.
Old Sean
Written February 21st, 2017
For recommendations and points of interest when visiting Chengdu, China, click here.
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