Visiting Chengdu, China
By Jian Ping
Chengdu, capital of Sichuan Province, is located in the southwest of China. I made an
unexpected stop at the city during my recent trip to China. A flight delay resulted in my arrival at
Chengdu Airport after midnight. Since I only had one full day in the city, a place known for its
rich culture and beauty, I set out from my hotel early the following morning for my exploration.
Armed with a detailed city map, I ambitiously marked six places that I wanted to visit.
I took the subway to Wang Fu Square, the center of the city. I had never been to this part of the
country before so I was surprised to see a large statue of Mao extending his waving arm
toward the large square when I emerged from the underground. As in any other cities in China,
construction cranes were visible in every direction. I wondered what Mao would be thinking if
he, not his statue, were watching such drastic changes.
The first site that I stopped by was the Wide and Narrow Alleys, an area which is set up for
tourists. The concept was quite similar to that of “Tian Zi Fang” ( ) in Shanghai or
“Hutong” ( ) ) in Beijing, with local street settings and building structures. The walls of the
Jian Ping
Jian Ping is author of “Mulberry Child: A Memoir of
China. “ For more information, visit www.moraquest.
com or www.mulberrychild.com. Jian Ping’s blog,
which she keeps with a couple of other authors, is at
www.smearedtype.com.
China. “ For more information, visit www.moraquest.
com or www.mulberrychild.com. Jian Ping’s blog,
which she keeps with a couple of other authors, is at
www.smearedtype.com.
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houses and courtyards were built with traditional gray bricks, and the
gates, heavy wood, topped with curved tiles. But despite the man-
made old aura, the inside of the cafes and restaurants along the
alleys were contemporary, giving the place a sense of “dual,” if not
conflicted, realities. Everything is commercialized and seemingly
proud to be so. One store even names itself “Zhui Yin Zu” ( ) ,
“Silver Seekers.” A small board, which was placed out front, declared
in crippled handwriting: “Father’s love is limitless; Mother’s love is
boundless.” Under the line was a for-sale announcement of 20% off
on its entire jewelry inventories. The message couldn’t be more
bluntly presented.
gates, heavy wood, topped with curved tiles. But despite the man-
made old aura, the inside of the cafes and restaurants along the
alleys were contemporary, giving the place a sense of “dual,” if not
conflicted, realities. Everything is commercialized and seemingly
proud to be so. One store even names itself “Zhui Yin Zu” ( ) ,
“Silver Seekers.” A small board, which was placed out front, declared
in crippled handwriting: “Father’s love is limitless; Mother’s love is
boundless.” Under the line was a for-sale announcement of 20% off
on its entire jewelry inventories. The message couldn’t be more
bluntly presented.
Mao statue at Wang Fu Square
As I walked toward my next destination, I couldn’t help noticing how
fashionable the young women were in the streets, nicely fitted clothes, high
heels, and even visible tattoos (below left). Many were talking on their cell
phones while walking. Even young mothers with small children at their heels
dressed themselves smartly.
As always, I took snap shots as I went along. Interesting people, street
vendors, and weird English translations. At one point, when I passed a grand
gate guarded by half a dozen soldiers, I noticed a slogan on the tall, burgundy
wall that stated something along the line of “soldiers are not to be violated!” I
thought it was quite odd. Soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army had always
been claimed to be the “sons and brothers of the people.” The signage
projected a message that was foreign to me. I took out my small point-and-
shoot camera and wanted to take a photo of the slogan. I heard a loud
shouting even before the cover of my camera opened.
“No photo taking!” a uniformed soldier by the gate shouted in a fierce voice.
I was surprised by the hostility. Just as I was about to put away my camera,
another soldier ran to me in record speed. There was no sign indicating what
organization was behind the gate and no language stating photos are
prohibited. Besides, the place was very close to the center of town. My puzzled
look didn’t slow down the soldier’s demand to take a look at my camera. I
showed him the last photo I took: a white-haired dog wearing four little red
shoes. I felt sorry for the cute little creature and took a picture of him or her as
we were waiting to cross a street. The man who was holding the dog leash
appeared pleased with his extra “care.” The soldier seemed to be satisfied
with what he saw and ran back to his position. I walked on, feeling offended
fashionable the young women were in the streets, nicely fitted clothes, high
heels, and even visible tattoos (below left). Many were talking on their cell
phones while walking. Even young mothers with small children at their heels
dressed themselves smartly.
As always, I took snap shots as I went along. Interesting people, street
vendors, and weird English translations. At one point, when I passed a grand
gate guarded by half a dozen soldiers, I noticed a slogan on the tall, burgundy
wall that stated something along the line of “soldiers are not to be violated!” I
thought it was quite odd. Soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army had always
been claimed to be the “sons and brothers of the people.” The signage
projected a message that was foreign to me. I took out my small point-and-
shoot camera and wanted to take a photo of the slogan. I heard a loud
shouting even before the cover of my camera opened.
“No photo taking!” a uniformed soldier by the gate shouted in a fierce voice.
I was surprised by the hostility. Just as I was about to put away my camera,
another soldier ran to me in record speed. There was no sign indicating what
organization was behind the gate and no language stating photos are
prohibited. Besides, the place was very close to the center of town. My puzzled
look didn’t slow down the soldier’s demand to take a look at my camera. I
showed him the last photo I took: a white-haired dog wearing four little red
shoes. I felt sorry for the cute little creature and took a picture of him or her as
we were waiting to cross a street. The man who was holding the dog leash
appeared pleased with his extra “care.” The soldier seemed to be satisfied
with what he saw and ran back to his position. I walked on, feeling offended
However, the place that truly struck a chord in my heart was the
“Thatched Cottage of Du Fu.”
Du Fu (712-770) is one of the most well-known poets in China. He
lived in the Tang Dynasty (618-907) and moved to Chengdu at 47.
He built a hut in the then outskirts of the city, which he fondly referred
to as his “thatched cottage.” He spent about four years there,
composing more than 240 poems, a most productive period of his
life. I was first exposed to Du Fu’s poems when I was a child. Today,
children in China start learning his poems in elementary school, if
not earlier. His classical, rhymed poems are powerful, expressive,
and soul-touching. Du Fu’s poems reflected everyday life and events,
and he was considered by many as a “social historian.” I was struck
with awe as I stood in the rehabilitated “cottage,” imagining this great
poet, a genius, once walked the same ground.
In one exhibition hall, a life-size Du Fu stood in front of a horse-pulled
cart. It was during the period of An Shi Rebellion (755-763). The eight-
year war was brutal, claiming the lives of 32 million people, two-
thirds of China’s population at the time. On the wall behind Du Fu
was a painting of a battleground, accompanied by his famous poem
about the war written at this cottage:
“Thatched Cottage of Du Fu.”
Du Fu (712-770) is one of the most well-known poets in China. He
lived in the Tang Dynasty (618-907) and moved to Chengdu at 47.
He built a hut in the then outskirts of the city, which he fondly referred
to as his “thatched cottage.” He spent about four years there,
composing more than 240 poems, a most productive period of his
life. I was first exposed to Du Fu’s poems when I was a child. Today,
children in China start learning his poems in elementary school, if
not earlier. His classical, rhymed poems are powerful, expressive,
and soul-touching. Du Fu’s poems reflected everyday life and events,
and he was considered by many as a “social historian.” I was struck
with awe as I stood in the rehabilitated “cottage,” imagining this great
poet, a genius, once walked the same ground.
In one exhibition hall, a life-size Du Fu stood in front of a horse-pulled
cart. It was during the period of An Shi Rebellion (755-763). The eight-
year war was brutal, claiming the lives of 32 million people, two-
thirds of China’s population at the time. On the wall behind Du Fu
was a painting of a battleground, accompanied by his famous poem
about the war written at this cottage:
by the rude treatment. I asked a street vendor half a block away what was behind the tall walls and guarded gate.
“It’s the army,” she said without lifting her head.
I sought solace in my next stop, Qing Yang Si, a Taoist temple. The walled area was much larger than I expected, with
meticulously maintained gardens, pavilions, courtyards, and temples that contained numerous statues of Taoist
immortals. The symbol of Ba Gua, the eight trigrams which was explained in I Ching, an ancient divinatory text, was
mounted on the walls, carved into the concrete platforms, and even shaped on the bushes. Visitors burned incense and
kowtowed on the cushions placed in front of the immortals. There was a sense of peace and reverence in the air. I lingered
much longer here, examining the images of the deities that I had heard of in bits and pieces over the years.
“It’s the army,” she said without lifting her head.
I sought solace in my next stop, Qing Yang Si, a Taoist temple. The walled area was much larger than I expected, with
meticulously maintained gardens, pavilions, courtyards, and temples that contained numerous statues of Taoist
immortals. The symbol of Ba Gua, the eight trigrams which was explained in I Ching, an ancient divinatory text, was
mounted on the walls, carved into the concrete platforms, and even shaped on the bushes. Visitors burned incense and
kowtowed on the cushions placed in front of the immortals. There was a sense of peace and reverence in the air. I lingered
much longer here, examining the images of the deities that I had heard of in bits and pieces over the years.
| Ba Guat at Qing Yang Temple |
| Bonsai Garden at the Thatched Cottage of Du Fu |
I remember reciting the poem as a child and revisiting it
numerous times as an adult. But standing there next to Du Fu’s
statue, I felt the power of the words and the emotion of the poet
more than I had ever before. Tears welled up in my eyes.
I wanted to check out every pavilion, garden, exhibition hall and
pagoda surrounding the “cottage,” an area of 59 acres. Three
hours later, I was still walking back and forth. I captured many
photos of tall bamboos, ponds full of golden fish, and well-kept
bonsais, along with hangings of Du Fu’s poems in beautiful
calligraphy and huts and cottages built in the style of the Tang
Dynasty. As the time came for me to return to the hotel for my
evening activities, I found myself reluctant to leave.
There are so many other places in the city that I wanted to see. At
the end of the day, I was only able to check off three attractions on
my list, which left me with a strong desire to return for another visit,
hopefully in the near future.
numerous times as an adult. But standing there next to Du Fu’s
statue, I felt the power of the words and the emotion of the poet
more than I had ever before. Tears welled up in my eyes.
I wanted to check out every pavilion, garden, exhibition hall and
pagoda surrounding the “cottage,” an area of 59 acres. Three
hours later, I was still walking back and forth. I captured many
photos of tall bamboos, ponds full of golden fish, and well-kept
bonsais, along with hangings of Du Fu’s poems in beautiful
calligraphy and huts and cottages built in the style of the Tang
Dynasty. As the time came for me to return to the hotel for my
evening activities, I found myself reluctant to leave.
There are so many other places in the city that I wanted to see. At
the end of the day, I was only able to check off three attractions on
my list, which left me with a strong desire to return for another visit,
hopefully in the near future.
Spring View
The nation has fallen, the mountains and rivers still
stand;
Spring greens the trees and grasses in town.
Flower petals shed tears of sorrow;
Birds’ chirpings startle the souls at parting.
Turmoil of war goes on three months in a row;
A letter from home is worth a fortune in gold.
Scratching the white locks makes them thinner;
A hairpin can hardly be held in place.
The nation has fallen, the mountains and rivers still
stand;
Spring greens the trees and grasses in town.
Flower petals shed tears of sorrow;
Birds’ chirpings startle the souls at parting.
Turmoil of war goes on three months in a row;
A letter from home is worth a fortune in gold.
Scratching the white locks makes them thinner;
A hairpin can hardly be held in place.
Du Fu's Thatched Cottage; below, his study
