Chengdu, part 2: the city

After getting run out of town up in the hills, Adam, our translator friend and I left early Sunday morning for Chengdu, the nearest large city and the location of the airport we were scheduled to leave from on Tuesday morning. We figured that, if there were any lingering hard feelings about what we were made to feel was an unwelcome intrusion, it would be more difficult to track us down and hassle us among the millions of people in Chengdu. So that's where we ended up for the rest of our stay.

I'm not going to lie--it was relaxing. Probably the most relaxing time I had in China this summer. (I'm home now, and readjusting to American life--driving and so on.) If you ever find yourself in Chengdu needing a place to lay your head, find a hostel called The Loft and take a shower. Check your e-mail. Sleep in. That's what we did. Here's a photographic sampling of the activities we participated in while sequestered in a city with far less foreigners than the other Chinese cities I visited this year. (We were stared at a lot in the city, as well as in the countryside. There were simply no other white guys around, other than the few French and Australian tourists we met at the hostel.)

This was what all the hallways looked like at The Loft, which was converted into a hostel from an old printing factory.

From the minute we checked in, all three of us were doing plenty of this:

And a little bit of this:

Pizza Hut was our first meal when we got back to the city. It was expensive (thanks, Adam), but it was so, so good.

Adam kept telling me about how the Chinese would visit the one-trip salad bar and come back with a bowl stacked about a foot tall with produce, all contained within walls of cucumbers stacked meticulously to bring back half the salad bar. He was upstairs at the produce buffet for about 15 minutes, then came back down with his cucumber tower halfway accomplished...

...then came the quote of the day: "I don't even like cucumbers," he said. "I hate cucumbers." Which, from a man who eats anything--and lots of it--only means he'd rather be eating copious amounts of something else, but cucumbers would do. He's such an easy-going guy, and a great brother. There is no one I'd have rather spent that particular weekend with. If you read this, Adam, thank you. You're the man.

After explaining what "hut" meant to our dear Chinese friend (I'm not naming him or showing him in any pictures because he's afraid of getting on the wrong side of the authorities), we felt a little sheepish about our language. At least I did. "Shack" was the best translation we could come up with, to which he repeated, "Pizza Shack?" Yeah, tell us about it. "Radio Hut" doesn't sound quite right, either. Neither pizza nor radios should be peddled out of crude shelters, in my opinion.

So here we were, feeling sheepish, wishing English made more sense, when we saw it.

Now, I hate poodles in the first place (sorry to any poodle lovers out there, and forgive me if this specimen is not truly a poodle). But poodles with orange eartips? I felt better about my language immediately. We saw many, many other interesting sights, and I wouldn't be surprised if a picture or two of Adam and I are floating around on some Chinese dude's blog. Folks were staring, snapping photos with their cell phones and generally making us feel like dogs with orange ears or something...

Turns out Chengdu is usually a touristy city--giant panda breeding grounds are nearby, and a travel agency located within our hostel was advertising trips to just about every place in China you would want to see besides the Olympic complex in Beijing. I think that must have been where all the foreigners were, because as I mentioned, we didn't see one outside of the hostel.

All in all, it was an amazing four days. Saturday, when we got to talk to earthquake survivors and hopefully cheer them up a bit, was definitely the best. But the rest of our time wasn't so bad either. (We also got mostly painful foot massages from a guy named Bob whose orientation, if you get my drift, was questionable.) It may sound like our time in the city was fruitless or frivolous, but remember that our good friend is an earthquake survivor. He'd been away at college when it hit, but his family has been devastated, and he spent the summer living in the refugee shelter. He's one of the estimated 15 million people left homeless by the quake, and I think Adam and I were able to encourage him a bit. In fact, I know we did, because he told us so repeatedly. Just hanging out with him was a privilege that I will not soon forget.

So that about says it for our adventure in Chengdu. I am extremely glad that we chose to go, and that God opened doors like he did. Please pray for our friend. Many of you know his name; even if you do not, our Father will know who you are talking about.

I have a few more things to say about the entire six-week trip, and as I catch up on my sleep and memories, I'll jot down a bit more in retrospect here. Thanks for reading, and for following our adventures in the Far East. It's been a pleasure to keep you in the loop.