A Green and Spicy Day
I wanted to leave Chengdu to head north to the storied Jiuzhaigou, supposedly one of the most beautiful places in China. However, I couldn't get a flight for two days, so I was stuck in Chengdu -- but that doesn't stop Mikey from having some fun. So, one taxi ride and two frustrating bus rides later, I arrived at the base of Qingcheng Shan, a small mountain known for its green scenery stretching out in every direction.
I got too late a start to try the back route, so instead I headed up the front face, the main route, and was soon accompanied by two Chinese guys in their early 20s, Yang and Reno, who spoke very good English. It would be the three of us for the day.
Up we headed, step after step, shaded from the unusually strong sun by trees, both bamboo and others I couldn't identify. Occasional breaks in the canopy afforded us views of dense forests to the distant horizon. Along the way were scattered Daoist temples, their multi-colored murals and large idols of deities, both human-like and quite not so. Incense burned in the front courtyard of each temple, pleasantly mixing with the smell of the forest that blankets the mountain. I was starting to feel like I had stepped into a scene found on many Chinese scrolls. Around the next bend I was sure a wise old man would soon divulge to me the ways of the world.
Not exactly, but the three of us did enjoy our mildly exerting hike to the anticlimactic summit. We chose a different, more secluded way back, making our way down stone steps, as the sun threw dancing shadows at our feet. Halfway down as we rounded a particularly gorgeous bend in the mountainside, with trees shooting from the ground far below to well above our heads, there was indeed an old man. Wise? Maybe, maybe not. But he was playing a nice tune on one of the wooden flutes he was selling. The melody echoed among the rock walls, and perfectly complemented the scene.
Leaving the old man and his song behind, we continued on down where the flute was replaced by the sound of a sweet harp. However, this harp was not played by a man, but instead came from rocks -- er, speakers disguised as rocks. Oh well. It was still relaxing to the ears, and I got back in time to say goodbye to my friends and catch the last bus back to Chengdu.
That night, I sampled some more of the famous Sichuan food -- huoguo. Of course, I was the only non-Chinese person at the open-air, bustling restaurant. The crowd was quite amused as I tried my hardest to explain what I wanted. Eventually, out came the huoguo -- a large, boiling pot of two different broths. One, red and spicy, the other yellow and slightly less so. With huoguo, you stick skewers of meat and raw vegetables into the broth, where they cook quickly and make for a fantastic meal. As I couldn't explain what kind of skewers I wanted, I got up and pointed to the display out front. Mushrooms and couple types of meat that I couldn't identify filled me up quite nicely (I later found out one was tripe). Washed down with a couple beers, it was one of the best meals I've had in China.
Before I could leave, a large group of young revelers nearby insisted I drink with them and it was more of the same -- good times with complete strangers -- that have helped endear this country to me.
It was a green and spicy day, and I couldn't have planned it any better.
I got too late a start to try the back route, so instead I headed up the front face, the main route, and was soon accompanied by two Chinese guys in their early 20s, Yang and Reno, who spoke very good English. It would be the three of us for the day.
Up we headed, step after step, shaded from the unusually strong sun by trees, both bamboo and others I couldn't identify. Occasional breaks in the canopy afforded us views of dense forests to the distant horizon. Along the way were scattered Daoist temples, their multi-colored murals and large idols of deities, both human-like and quite not so. Incense burned in the front courtyard of each temple, pleasantly mixing with the smell of the forest that blankets the mountain. I was starting to feel like I had stepped into a scene found on many Chinese scrolls. Around the next bend I was sure a wise old man would soon divulge to me the ways of the world.
Not exactly, but the three of us did enjoy our mildly exerting hike to the anticlimactic summit. We chose a different, more secluded way back, making our way down stone steps, as the sun threw dancing shadows at our feet. Halfway down as we rounded a particularly gorgeous bend in the mountainside, with trees shooting from the ground far below to well above our heads, there was indeed an old man. Wise? Maybe, maybe not. But he was playing a nice tune on one of the wooden flutes he was selling. The melody echoed among the rock walls, and perfectly complemented the scene.
Leaving the old man and his song behind, we continued on down where the flute was replaced by the sound of a sweet harp. However, this harp was not played by a man, but instead came from rocks -- er, speakers disguised as rocks. Oh well. It was still relaxing to the ears, and I got back in time to say goodbye to my friends and catch the last bus back to Chengdu.
That night, I sampled some more of the famous Sichuan food -- huoguo. Of course, I was the only non-Chinese person at the open-air, bustling restaurant. The crowd was quite amused as I tried my hardest to explain what I wanted. Eventually, out came the huoguo -- a large, boiling pot of two different broths. One, red and spicy, the other yellow and slightly less so. With huoguo, you stick skewers of meat and raw vegetables into the broth, where they cook quickly and make for a fantastic meal. As I couldn't explain what kind of skewers I wanted, I got up and pointed to the display out front. Mushrooms and couple types of meat that I couldn't identify filled me up quite nicely (I later found out one was tripe). Washed down with a couple beers, it was one of the best meals I've had in China.
Before I could leave, a large group of young revelers nearby insisted I drink with them and it was more of the same -- good times with complete strangers -- that have helped endear this country to me.
It was a green and spicy day, and I couldn't have planned it any better.
posted by Unknown at 11:21 AM
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