Chengdu days
Trip Start
Jan 24, 2004
1
24
31
Trip End
Apr 01, 2004
Chengdu,
China
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Saturday 13th March 2004
After a quick look around the completely excellent Mount Emei museum, I catch the bus back to Chengdu. It takes over three hours instead of two and drops us at the wrong bus station. That's a bloody good service for any bus operator in Asia.
'Hairdresser street' is the unlikely red light zone of Chengdu. In China prostitution takes place behind closed doors and normally those doors are at the back of a hairdresser shop. A very frail disguise if I may say so. Since as the day progresses, the all-girls team on duty at a typical hairdresser salon gradually begin to adopt a new type of uniform . One you might see in an Ann Summers catalogue. Barry, Keith 'the five knuckle shuffler' and I are sat across the street from one such salon casually drinking cold beer on a summer's afternoon. We've noticed the girls in the salon are playing up to us, only a fool wouldn't see. Question is, which one of us is going in there first ? Such pub stories do not belong here I am afraid.
There are also a number of official Police surplus stores dotted around. In which anybody can go in and buy some toys. Like those big red and blue flashing lights for the roof of your car. Riots shields and batons. Things like that. But as it's such a nice day we head for the reggae pub instead and bask outside there downing more cold beer. As Bob Marley tells us the train is leaving. Not today it's not. I see there's little in the way of clear blue sky, more like dirt colour sky . I doubt the air quality is any good in Chengdu.
It's 17th March 2004. Saint Patrick's Day. Back at HQ we round up the troops and head to the 'Shamrock bar'. Once again , I note with humour how every city in the world must have it's Irish theme pub. For days like today. The draught Guinness is a whopping 50 Yuan a pint. The place is packed solid as you might expect on such an important day in the Chinese calendar. Full of expats dressed as leprechauns, and backpackers flirting with pretty young Chinese girls. Some managing both roles simultaneously. Irish Mick and Scottish Glen enter down their names as competitors for the indoor bar Olympics. The uproarious triathlon of high speed pizza eating, beer racing and then boot-camp style physical exercises. The ultimate recipe for bucket loads of projectile vomit. Those not vomiting or skidding over in it are facing the DJ, jumping up and down waving their beers to U2 songs . Wearing tall green hats, and some with kilts. Heroically we chant with Bono "In the name of love, what more.." And so on.
A little unsurprisingly, I now have dorm 204 to myself since my clattering arrival at 2am this morning has caused two female occupants to check out. I would guess the smell was bad enough. A sombre day follows . But of course we all soon bounce back. My farewell drinks are in a place named Carol's bar, down on the riverside. There are good juicy burgers and self-serve mini kegs of beer on each table. It doesn't take long before people are up again, waving beer at the DJ.
In one last spurt of energy , Barry myself and the two German girls get a bus to Qing Chang Shan mountain. I want to work my knees to jelly one more time before moving on. It is a day of almost continuous drizzle. The girls wear thin yellow plastic ponchos. We climb up as far as we can and look around an almost deserted temple. Then scoff plates of hot noodles at a food shelter a little father down. We lose our way and return to base instead, sodden and tired.
We joke about Chinese trekking gear consisting of cheap off the peg suits and imitation leather slip-ons. I'm sure the Chinese share similar jokes about foreigners clad in Berghaus with their ultimate resilience hiking boots. As a matter of fact, on an earlier trip, I witnessed our guide in Viet Nam change into her plastic flip flops before scaling a mountain like a panther. Nobody could catch her. So , I suppose we really ought to be laughing at people like ourselves instead. Mountains are not conquered by gore-tex and fancy labels. Gullible consumers are. The small irony being that most, if not all of these branded 'quality' products are actually made right here in China ! Moving on..
Next ; A slow boat down the Yangtze
