Continuing adventures in Chengdu

Yesterday, post-pandas, I spent the next part of my day trying to get my photos uploaded over the incredibly slow (but free) internet connection at the hostel, since I've maxed out my digital camera's cards and the iPhone's free space.¹

After succeeding but spending more time on this than I care to admit, I got my train ticket for this evening to my next destination (Xi'an, 16.5 hours away, via the upper bunk on an ominous-sounding "hard sleeper") and scored some tickets to tonight's FIFA Women's World Cup match between (get this!) Sweden and the USA. It's happening right here in Chengdu! (I'm guessing most folks in the bleachers might be hard pressed to guess which I'll be rooting for -- myself included. After buying my ticket, I met Andreas at the hostel, a Swede who is also attending the game. We'll be going together, a microcosm of fans for each side.)

I then spent some time in People's Park, which has been the most interesting, concentrated experience of Chinese culture yet in Chengdu. People's Park totally kicks ass over the park I visited the day before (Culture Park, and no, I'm not making these names up). Amid the scenes at People's Park: lots and lots of groups engaged in synchronized dancing (styles from around the world); karaoke galore (miked and heavily amplified without shame, nor often talent); men standing in circles around games of Go; couples paddling themselves in rowboats on the aptly named Artificial Lake; hormone-crazed teens playing a flirtatious games of bumper-boats on the same lake (and with the same boats); children ga-ga over playground equipment at Children's Paradise; and hundreds and hundreds of people in the tea houses sprinkled throughout the park. All of this taking place within earshot of all the rest. A beautiful, if cacophonous, expression of People.



The atmosphere was jovial and relaxed. Although it was only about 4:30 or 5:00, I had the sense that folks had been hanging out all day, and would be here late into the evening (although I don't know whether either is true).

After this, I began a meandering quest for a late lunch. The food experience here in Sichuan is such a big part of the experience. I decided to try Chengdu's famous "little eats," which are plentiful but only available during the typically Chinese lunch and dinner times (which are much earlier than my habitual mealtimes). Again, the joy of street food is that you get to see what you'd like to eat, the curse being that I don't know what to call it in English.

I can ask for steamed vegetable buns in Chinese pretty reliably now (and have only had what I ordered turn out to have meat in it twice), so I started with a delicious, airy bun with green onions and green beans inside.

This was followed an hour or so later with what I think must be the Sichuan equivalent of french fries: boiled potatoes (which tasted more like new potatoes that your generic spud), pressed and then julienned into a familiar french fry profile (but thinner), and covered with red peppers and red pepper oil. (With all that oil, they may be about as healthy as french fries too, despite never hitting a deep-fryer.) You are given a serving in a plastic cup with a toothpick, which you use to convey them to your awaiting taste buds. The heat was present, but nothing too powerful.

Next, after a walk, I encountered a crock-pot full of white-and-brown mottled eggs, which are plentiful here (every store seems to have them out front). The look like eggs that have been soaked in soy sauce or something. (Are these the famed "thousand year eggs?" They don't seem nearly pungent enough to be.) This time, they were being sold off the back of a bike, and instead of chicken eggs, the pot was also contained smaller eggs. Quail, perhaps? Snake? The egg was hard-hard-boiled, with the yolk partially green inside, and the way they have been cooked, which gives their shells the spotted appearance, also imparts some of that color to the inside of the egg. Ideas what kind of egg this was, anyone? Here's a photo to help.



The final course of this street-food meal was a bread pocket stuffed with shredded vegetables. The bread was about the taste and consistency of an English muffin. The veggies were spicy, but again, not intensely so. I bought this from a woman also selling it off the back of her bike. Interestingly, just as I approached her and the group of vendors she was a part of, they all quickly covered their wares and scattered. It wasn't xenophobia -- I looked over my shoulder to see a police officer on a motorcycle who pulled up immediately behind me. Apparently, these vendors weren't supposed to be there, but this seemed like a rather comic game of cat-and-mouse, since most of the vendors went perhaps only twenty feet behind the cop and immediately began selling again. The officer had a look on his face of resignation, and did not turn around or look in his mirrors: the point seemed to be more to disrupt these vendors periodically than to actually have any hope of stopping them.

Speaking of police, I witnessed two minor fender-benders in traffic yesterday. Both were resolved quickly with some conversation between the drivers (in one case, a rather heated exchange) and money changing hands to compensate the wronged party. (In both cases, these were minor incidents, involving mere scratches on a bumper.) It appears the rules of the road here are akin to skiing's mantra that the downhill skier always has the right of way. In this case, the forward vehicle always appears to have the right of way, and folks behind need to be prepared for that forward car to perform any manner of stunt. It's less clear what the rules are at intersections. It's a bit like playing chicken: if I'm trying to cross your lane of traffic, and get my vehicle sufficiently in the way of yours, then I get the right of way. There are traffic enforcement officers at busy intersections in Chengdu, the first I've seen in China. Like the traffic lights, they are sometimes, but not always, heeded.

Much like the trash and recycling bins, which are plentiful but do not seem to be effectively separating trash from recycling -- people seem to use them interchangeably.

Chengdu has also provided my second encounters with people who appear to be homeless (Shanghai being the first). The range of people's apparent situations runs an all-too-familiar gamut: older single men and women with their possessions on their back; parents with babies (mostly women but I've also seen one man holding an ailing daughter, asking for help); and a few youth who I suspect may be living on the street. One of the most impactful encounters was with a guy engaged in a kind of street performance to demonstrate that he could not use his legs. He would throw his body around and drag himself along the sidewalk with his arms to catch the attention of passersby. Shocking, sad, and powerful indication of what he was willing to do to survive.

Street homelessness here is far less common than most American cities of its size, but is no less perplexing given the safeguards and safety nets that ought to be afforded by the Chinese government. It is hard to say how many others might be without adequate, safe and affordable housing here -- which I'm sure hinges a lot on how you define such things in this context -- but I would not be surprised if it were a large number. Most towns I've visited have an older part of town that verges on being a shanty-town. Of special importance will be to watch what happens to the residents of these neighborhoods as China's gang-busters pace of development continues.

__
¹For the iPhone wish list, let's include a way to delete any content on the iPhone, especially podcasts I have already listened to. Right now, you can only delete text (emails, bookmarks and notes) and video, and in fact, an annoying prompt appears every time you finish a video, asking if you want to delete it. Now, I don't know how many times I'll watch Serenity on this trip, but I brought it expecting that number could be greater than 1. I'd much rather delete media in the same easy, elegant way you can delete text. (I hope that helps, Mr. Jobs. Oh, and by the way, you owe me $200.)