Pandas and culture collide
Chengdu has plenty of markets, great park life and historical treasures
“Now, that bear is definitely not white,” the Dutch tourist next to me said. The giant panda turned in our direction at that moment and let out some kind of loud sneeze or snort as if to say, “Give me a break, pal.” It was raining and muddy, after all — and even slightly smudged, the panda bears at the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding were still absurdly adorable. The bear ambled off to climb a nearby jungle gymlike structure, fell off once or twice, eventually gave up, and finally settled on a choice piece of bamboo to munch on.
Pandas reside almost exclusively in central China. While a handful can be seen in zoos worldwide, the research base in Chengdu, the thriving seat of China’s Sichuan province, is one of the few places to see dozens of the animals thriving in a pseudo-natural habitat. It’s just one of many reasons to visit. Despite being one of the country’s largest cities, Chengdu largely has flown under the radar for the tourist set; deep in the heart of China, it’s closer to Tibet than to Shanghai. After recently spending 10 days there over two trips, I can say that it’s a fantastically exciting, progressive city, with plenty of museums and urban temples to explore, great shopping and a famously spicy cuisine that will torch the careless.
Animal attractions can be dicey, particularly in China, but the research base is very well done — the animals seemed happy and active — and seemed to serve a larger purpose: conservation and research of a threatened species that’s notoriously slow to reproduce. The price was right, too: only 58 yuan (around $12 Canadian) for admission. My advice is to get there in the morning — not only will you beat the crowds, but it’s the pandas’ breakfast time so they’re more active than usual. Don’t miss the nursery, either, which may have some very cuddly snoozing babies (there were three when I visited).
How to get there? I recommend Chengdu’s clean, efficient subway system, and suggest you get used to taking it. The metro, which went into service in 2010, has been built with blinding, almost frightening, speed. There are now six subway lines in operation. Single-ride tickets vary based on distance, but expect to pay between 2 and 5 yuan when you ride. You’ll also notice no one bolting down the stairs to make a train in Chengdu; there’s almost always another one about three minutes behind.
My lodging at the Chengdu Panda Apartment was tricky to locate — it’s hidden in a residential apartment block — but the room was comfortable and the price reasonable (276 yuan per night). The decor was extremely panda-heavy: blankets, towels, bedspreads — everything. Fortunately, I thought it was pretty cute.
If you’re looking for something a little more traditional, I also stayed at the Sheraton Chengdu Lido Hotel, just one stop north of Tianfu Square, on the metro’s primary northsouth line, for just 488 yuan per night. Getting into the city from the airport, incidentally, is fairly hassle-free. While there are shuttles into downtown, I would download and set up Didi Chuxing before your trip. My ride into the city cost just 45 yuan. One nice perk of the app is that if you message your driver in English, it is automatically translated into Chinese.
But I found that walking is the best way to get around Chengdu. The city isn’t as hectic as Beijing or Shanghai, and it’s a pleasant place to take a stroll.
Park life is essential in China, as it’s one of the few ways to escape from the crush of urbanity that marks its major cities. People’s Park is another great place to walk around, unwind and take in the sights and sounds of local life.
Another of Chengdu’s historical treasures, the Jinsha Site Museum, has been accessible only recently, as it was accidentally discovered in 2001 during real-estate development.
Markets are another great place to check out Chengdu’s seemingly endless food offerings. Jordan Porter, who runs a local food tour company called Chengdu Food Tours, tipped me off to a bustling local market near the west side of the1st Ring Road called Qingyang Market. It has everything you could want, from pig’s feet to sugarcane stalks, homemade sausag- es, crocks of blindingly potent baijiu (grain alcohol), fresh tofu, spices and vats of doubanjiang, a spicy, fermented bean paste. After doing a couple of loops, I sat down at Yanjing Mian, a small restaurant near the market’s entrance, for a piquant bowl of hand-pulled noodles with pieces of short rib (10 yuan).
Street food, incidentally, has its drawbacks. If you’re an adventurous eater, sometimes you get sick. One day on Dongsheng St., near People’s Park, I noticed some appealinglooking stacked metal containers outside one storefront. They were sputtering steam and brimming with soft, fluffy baozi (dumplings). I bought a bag of eight (6 yuan) and chowed down happily as I turned left on Ningxia St. After I’d inhaled three, I noticed something felt slightly off. I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say I didn’t find a place to solve the issue in time. It was a long, humbling walk home.
If you decide to go the safer restaurant route, you won’t be disappointed. Chuan chuan is essential Chengdu — skewers of different meats and vegetables sitting in a bath of spicy oil (dinner for two might run 60 to 80 yuan) — as is getting an entire fish.