Warsaw to Bangkok

Xiongmao are surely one of the world’s favourite animals. Xiong means bear and mao predictably means cat. Bearcats are native to Sichuan and outside Chengdu they have a sanctuary for them.

Bearcats are black, white, fluffy and floppy. They love sleeping and eating bamboo. They are sometimes called giant pandas. They are amongst the rarest animals on earth.

I spend nearly an hour watching two youngsters wrestle each other on a wooden playground, about four feet off the ground. The smaller one was losing badly, being battered around by bigger paws. Then he got smart, and started using his quickness. However, his merciful nature prevented him from toppling his bigger sibling when he had the chance. It ended in a draw of sorts when both youngsters turned their attention to the professional photographer ten feet away. They kicked her tripod’s backside up and down the block.

Pandas love bamboo. They take the stem (trunk) in their paws, using the stub-thumbs they have. They strip the bark off with their teeth and then chew on the wood. They do this while reclined, chilled out as though they were about to sit down with some ‘boo and watch the game.

There are a dozen or so pandas at the conservation centre. The most famous of them is Pride. She was named, and is technically owned, by a cigarette company. Pride cigarettes, bearing her likeness, are one of China’s biggest sellers.

Not to be outdone are red pandas. Smaller than giant pandas, they are coloured like foxes with raccoon patterns. They are about the size of ocelots. They have feline whiskers and scratch their chins with their hind paws. They flop on their backs and look up at you just like otters. I’d never seen a red panda before – not even a picture – but now they are amongst my favourite animals. I want one.

Walking Chengdu
Of course, if I wanted a red panda, I could probably get one. I later walked down a stretch of raod where pets are sold. Like the sidewalk kittens for sale in St. Petersburg and Moscow, the scene was one of mixed emotions. The baby animals were themselves undeniably cute, but I felt depressed.

Many of the pets were turtles. Some of them were quite large and by the wear and tear on their shells quite old. Clearly, they’d been plucked from the wild to be sold as pets. There is something wrong about taking an animal with 25 years of living in the world and just offering it up to the highest bidder. Hasn’t it earned a little dignity? It’s better than the soft-shelled turtles, mind you. They are sold at fishmongers’. I suppose you could say that for any of the critters on display – at least they’re not food – but that’s not much consolation. The puppies were in piles in boxes, and some were clearly suffering. I’m not in a position to nurse a puppy back to health, and besides purchasing one only encourages these idiots, but then this means leaving the poor kid in the hands of someone who obviously doesn’t care. I hate no-win situations.

Being a pedestrian in China is bad business. You see, pedestrians are the lowest on the food chain. Even militant, physically intimidating ones like myself stand little chance. The Chinese have crosswalks and pedestrian crossing lights. But you don’t have right of way. Those lights don’t mean it’s safe to cross, they mean it’s SAFER.

National Day
I was looking for a particular restaurant. Being the multi-day bash known as Chinese National Day, downtown Chengdu was jammed to the gills. This brought out the street food with a vengeance. I never found my restaurant, which is just as well because I was nicely stuffed anyway.

I had Grade Z sausage, skewers of meat, skewers of gelatin with peas inside, and gelato. Gelato! To drink, I got a coconut milk thing with black balls at the bottom. These are made from something starchy and glutinous – tapioca, sago or rice. They have little flavour, and are texturally annoying. However, the straw for the drink is big enough to handle them, thus rendering them the kind of sloppy, wet projectile every boy loves. Three yuans for a drink and twenty spitballs? This isn’t rocket science, ladies and gentlemen. (I swear, I only used them for purposes of evil).

Attractions
With the holiday time, and the massive population, finding a quiet place to get away was near impossible. I tried Dufu’s Cottage, but it was so crowded wandering through the grounds was like a zombie conga line.

The Wenshu Temple, right around the corner from where I was staying, was a much better bet. Rich with incense on a rainy afternoon, the temple grounds have sufficient quiet space, some traditional musicians, and some great architecture to admire. I spent a few hours there chilling out.

Mostly, though, I wandering around and hung out at the hostel, which was a fairly nice place. The street it’s on is good old school China, too, which I enjoyed. I read books, spent some time online, and generally took a load off.

Soon, though, I was on my way to Chongqing.

Tags: Chengdu, China, Travel

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