Chengdu, Part 2: Big ass Buddhas

Size does matter

Our friends Barbara and Jeff seemed to have enjoyed themselves while they were here, but China is still China, after all, and there's only so much a sane-minded individual can put up during a visit. When I proposed during our four-day, three-night excursion to Chéngdū 成都 that the five of us make a day trip to Lèshān  乐山 to see the world's tallest Buddha statue, they blanched at the idea of riding two hours or more on a typical Chinese bus (as opposed to hiring a van and driver for the day) and decided instead to stay in town. And so it was that my wife, my daughter and I set out on our own to experience one of the country's better-known sights.

What does it say about our hotel room when the best view was to be had from the bathroom?

We actually arrived in Leshan in less than two hours' time from Chengdu's gritty Xīnnánmén 新南门 tourist bus terminal, then took a taxi to where the Grand Buddha 大佛 has been sitting for the past 1200 years or so. The driver didn't drop us off at the main entrance, but took us to another gate further down the road. However, upon discovering that at this window we could only buy the more expensive admission tickets that included entry to something called the "Oriental Buddhist Theme Park" (which we had no interest in seeing), we had the cab take us back to the main gate, where my wife was able to battle the scrum (with her husband acting as her bodyguard) to secure the more reasonably-priced admission tickets to the Grand Buddha (and a couple of other minor sights). Perhaps our friends had made the right decision to stay in Chengdu.

Once inside, we made our up the steps to where the Grand Buddha was carved into a cliff face overlooking the spot where two rivers, the Dàdù 大渡河 and the Mín, meet. Below us, sightseeing boats were doing a busy trade:

We approached the Grand Buddha from the top, beginning with an up-close-and-personal look at his massive head:

A staircase leading down to the base of the statue was already choked with traffic, even on a late Friday morning. One can only imagine what the place is like on weekends and national holidays:

It wasn't a pleasant experience making our down the steps (again, I was thankful it was only a weekday), but the views of the Buddha compensated:

There were smaller carvings in the cliff side, as well, to give yourself something to look at when the Grand Buddha was temporarily out of sight:

At last, we reached the bottom, where we could take in the statue in all its glory. It was finished around the year 803, and upon its completion, the swift river waters became calm and boatmen could proceed with their work in safety. It was truly a blessing that was achieved by dumping massive amounts of rock into the river during the carving process. The statue is 71 meters (233 feet) high; the ears stretch for 7 meters (23 feet); the shoulder span is 28 meters (92) feet in length; and each of the Buddha's big toes is 8.5 (28 feet) long. In short, the Grand Buddha is an impressive sight, an amazing feat of engineering and well worth the effort to get to Leshan:

The girls were impressed:

Amber provides a frame of reference:

With more time, it would probably have been interesting to have taken of one of the numerous sightseeing boats to get another perspective on the Great Buddha (for one thing, there are two guardians in the cliff side that are only visible from the tour boats). But with our time limited, and having had our fill, we kept walking along the steps away from the giant statue until we emerged onto this classically Chinese scene:

Before reaching the bridge, we ducked into the Máhàoyá Tombs Museum 麻浩崖博物馆 to examine a collection of tombs dating from the Eastern Han dynasty (AD 25-220):

The small museum contained artifacts excavated from the tombs:

From the museum we crossed the arched bridge, and walked up and over the hill to Wūyóu Temple 乌尤寺, which was established during the Tang dynasty (the same era as the Grand Buddha), but later underwent significant renovations during the Ming and Qing dynasties. The main hall fronts the Dadu River:

Away from the main hall is the Luóhàn Hall, which houses around a thousand terracotta arhat figures (those who have reached nirvana), with no two being alike, as well as a statue of the Goddess of Mercy (Avalokiteshvara in Sanskrit; Guanyin in Chinese):

At this point it was 3 o'clock, and we had tickets for the 3:30 bus to Chengdu, but the timing didn't look too good. Amazingly, however, we made it...just. First, by hopping on a bus going back to the main entrance to the Grand Buddha, the place where we had first bought our tickets. Across the street, a taxi had just dislodged its fare and was pulling away, with Pamela in hot pursuit. Apparently, the driver saw her in his rear-view mirror, frantically waving her arms, and stopped. We made it to the bus station with about five minutes to spare; as the three of us were the last ones on the bus, the driver took off then and there. A typical lane-weaving, horn-leaning Chinese bus driver, he had us making good time back to Chengdu, until we hit the late afternoon rush hour:

From the bus station, we walked along the Wangjiang River, which would've been a pleasant stroll had not the Chengdu city planners decided the sidewalk would also be suitable as a dedicated lane for speeding, horn-blaring motorbikes:

Before reconnecting with Barbara and Jeff, the three of us had dinner at a chuànchuàn xiāng restaurant, a type of spicy hotpot using meat and vegetables on skewers (you pay by the skewer) that is a local specialty. Things don't get more authentic than this, right down to the greasy residue left behind when we finished. Our friends from overseas, being vegetarians, probably wouldn't have enjoyed the meal; they most definitely would not have liked the nearby public toilet used by restaurant patrons and everyone else in the vicinity:

We eventually made it back to the hotel just in time meet up with Barbara and Jeff, and catch a taxi to the Jĭnjiāng Theater 锦江剧场 for an evening of Sìchuān opera, a Chengdu musical tradition with a history going back some 250 years. Well, what we actually saw were snippets of traditional opera, along with lasers, special effects and civic boosterism, and all of it set to a techno soundtrack. The show was clearly aimed at tourists, especially non-Chinese ones, but it was thoroughly entertaining, with the highlight of the evening being the "face-changing" 变脸, in which the performers change the masks they're wearing with such speed that it feels more like a magic show than an opera performance (I didn't make any videos, but you can see an example here). The best part was seeing the puppet that not only could change its face like the human actors, but was also able to spit fire:

The next morning, I took a walk around the streets near our hotel, catching a glimpse of the elusive Chengdu Giant Panda as it was scaling the Uniqlo building:

The Giant Panda Breeding Research Base 大熊猫繁育基地 and the Great Buddha at Leshan made our visit to Chengdu a worthwhile excursion (with more time, I would've loved to gone hiking at Éméi Shān 峨眉山), but I don't think I would've liked living and working there. I'm sure there are a lot of great restaurants, as well as things to do at night, but the air quality is poor and the city is just, well, too Chinese at times. And as to what that means exactly will be left to your interpretation...:

Chengdu, Part 1: Pandas (of course)

It isn't easy being an endangered species...

Pandas. Our friends Barbara and Jeff, visiting us from Belgium, wanted to see China's warm and fuzzy examples of soft power projection. And in China, the best place to get a glimpse of these endangered creatures is just outside the city of Chéngdū 成都, capital of Sìchuān Province 四川省. Which is why last Wednesday we arrived in the smog-choked metropolis of 4.1 million people. After checking into our hotel, the five of us went out to explore the neighborhood, but soon sought refuge from the pollution in the Green Wood Cafe:

Though in many respects a modern, prosperous city,  Chengdu still presents a Soviet era-style face at times, from it's wide avenues and vast public spaces, especially Renmin Donglu and its disappointingly small Chairman Mao statue. I was expecting something more Kim Il-Sung-like, but the Great Helmsman is swallowed up by the museum behind him and empty square in front:

I really wanted to line up the statue with McDonald's and/or Costa Coffee in the foreground, but the vastness of Renmin Donglu defeated all efforts. My daughter demonstrates just how big the space is:

From the author of the Little Red Book, it was a short walk to People's Park 人民公园, with its lake, teahouses and revolutionary monuments. Normally bustling with activity, the lousy weather (alternating rain with smog in that unique way China has with atmospheric conditions) had kept the locals at home on Wednesday afternoon:

By this time, it was getting late in the afternoon and we were getting hungry. Our friends wanted to eat at a particular vegetarian restaurant that they'd found online, but when we came across a 200 year-old restaurant serving Sichuan cuisine, it was decided to end the evening there instead. It was a long wait to be seated, the time of which was passed by drinking tea:

The food was worth the wait, as was the special Tsingtao Beer we ordered to quench the spiciness of the dishes:

Following dinner, we took a taxi back to the hotel, where Barbara, Jeff and I had cocktails before retiring for the evening. The view from our room the next morning wasn't promising weather-wise:

The Giant Panda Breeding Research Base 大熊猫繁育基地 was only a half-hour by taxi from the hotel. The reserve is home to around 50 giant and red pandas, and offers an unparalleled chance to see more than the usual pair of pandas on view in various zoos around the world. Though the main purpose of the reserve is to get the pandas to breed (naturally or otherwise), it's the fee-paying visitors like ourselves that make it Chengdu's most popular tourist attraction:

The giant pandas didn't disappoint. Though not the most active of beasts, we made sure to get there around the time of their morning feeding, when they're at their most active (if you consider being covered up to the chest in bamboo to be an activity):

Some had already overdosed on the food...

For Amber on Thursday morning, the Giant Panda Breeding Research Base was the greatest place on Earth, as she took numerous photographs and made several videos on our iPad:

As the morning progressed, the beasts became more lethargic:

Their superstar status has obviously resulted in some inflated egos:

The less-popular red pandas were harder to see and even more out of it:

We purchased a souvenir for our daughter, and paid three times more for the plushy than if we had bought it back in Chengdu. Of course, the money goes toward the care, feeding and breeding of the pandas, and as China is a society governed by the rule of law and transparent accountability, we felt assured that our money would be well spent:

From the panda reserve, we had ourselves driven back to People's Park. With the weather having improved, the locals were out in force, and Barbara and Jeff learned firsthand just how unbelievably cacophonous a Chinese park can be, even on a weekday afternoon, thanks to the karaoke machines and "dancing aunties":

Among the many teahouses in People's Park, the most popular is Hè Míng Teahouse, where we stopped for some flower tea and spicy snacks:

The ear-cleaning services are optional:

Time passes slowly in Chinese tea houses, but eventually we managed to roust ourselves from our tea-induced languor and walked over to Nánjiāo Park and its Wŭhóu Temple 武侯词. The temple is dedicated to several figures from the Three Kingdoms period, known to every Chinese from the classic Chinese novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which I have no intention of ever reading. Our friends seemed to enjoy the temple and its surrounding gardens:

Amber, on the other hand, just rolls her eyes whenever she hears the words "three kingdoms". She was much more impressed with Jĭnlĭ Gŭjiē 锦里古街, a reconstructed "old street" adjacent to the temple. The cotton candy was a work of art:

Despite the many snacks on offer in Jinli Gujie, Jeff was keen to experience some Tibetan food, and there's a small Tibetan neighborhood to the southeast of Wuhou Temple. The Kampa Tibetan Restaurant is mentioned in Lonely Planet (as is Holly's Hostel next door), but Jeff insisted we go to a more authentic restaurant across the lane, and we were all glad we did. It certainly seemed more like the real deal: there was no English menu, the servers struggled to communicate in Mandarin with my wife and groups of monks were sitting around the dining room. The food was delicious and the butter tea was surprisingly good. Which makes it all the more a pity that I can't visit Tibet due to my present line of work:

Following dinner, we returned by taxi to our hotel, where Barbara, Jeff and I, after attempting to track down an elusive bar that has live music (which we found by asking a couple of Americans having coffee in a Starbucks, and which turned out to be totally devoid of music or customers when we eventually located it), we ended the evening once again back at the hotel bar drinking copious amounts of cocktails. It's really the best of friends that brings out the alcoholic in you.