January 22, 2001 VOL. 157 NO. 3

Bear Necessities in Ancient, Spicy Chengdu
By CRAIG SIMONS

Illustration for TIME by Satoshi Kambayashi

Twenty-four hundred years ago Shu kingdom Emperor Kaiming IX established his capital in a sleepy eastern market town he named Chengdu, meaning "becoming a metropolis." He surely couldn't have pictured the vibrant city the capital of Sichuan province is today. Modern Chengdu is prosperous: five-star hotels, coffee houses and hundreds of swank restaurants compete for space along the streets. But unlike in other modern Chinese cities, the bright future hasn't wiped out Chengdu's shining past. Without having to stray too far you can find dramatic relics.

Any visit should begin with a call on Chengdu's most noted residents, the giant pandas. A few representatives of the endangered species frolic at the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding in the northern suburb on Xiongmao Dadao (Panda Boulevard). You can travel by taxi from any hotel. It's best to call on the bears at an early hour, when they are most active; later in the day they tend to loaf like lethargic lumps. For $12, you can have your picture taken with a bear. Cross the Funan River, which was diverted in 311 B.C. to ring the city walls, and walk up Cattle Killing Lane to see the beautiful Tomb of Marquis Wu, one of the rulers during the Three Kingdoms period (A.D. 220-263). Stroll through the Qing Yang Temple, an ancient Taoist monastery, and rub the flanks of two bronze goats—an act that reputedly vanquishes one's troubles.

Another good stop is Wenshu Monastery (on Wenshu Yuan Street just east off People's Road), Chengdu's largest and most active Buddhist temple. Its bright red, orange and green structures were built during the Tang Dynasty (A.D. 618-907), and among its collection of sacred relics are three 19th-century books written entirely in blood. Monks produced the ink by lacerating their tongues each morning. If this devotion doesn't spoil your appetite, take lunch at the vegetarian restaurant on the grounds.

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No visit to Sichuan would be complete without an hour or two spent sipping tea in one of Chengdu's ubiquitous teahouses. Green tea, the standard in China, followed Buddhism north from India in the third century, but it was only from the 15th century that it became widely popular in China. Today's teahouses are places of play, and visitors can relax among raucous mah-jongg games and tables brimming with animated conversation. One of the most comfortable teahouses in the city sits beside the lake in People's Park; to get there from Wenshu Temple, flag a pedicab and pay between $1 and $3 for the open-air ride. The teahouse is just inside the main gate on Dongcheng Gennan Street.

Hungry? You're in luck. Sichuan boasts a 4,000-year culinary history and options are plentiful. For famously fiery Sichuanese fare, head to Shu Feng Garden at 153 Dong Dajie where musicians perform Chinese classical music and you can choose from a selection of the province's many tasty dishes. Be careful what you order: a common ingredient is Chinese prickly ash, a mouth-numbing spice reminiscent of trips to the dentist, but some people swear by it. If you're looking for other specialties, try "twice-cooked pork" (huiguo rou) or "strange-taste chicken shreds" (guaiwei jisi). After dinner, stroll through the market in front of the Jinjiang Hotel on People's Road or indulge in Chengdu's burgeoning nightlife. Ten years ago, karaoke was the only choice, but today there are clubs featuring local talent in everything from jazz to punk. Try the Little Bar at 31 Yulin West Street. With so much going on, Chengdu might have to reconsider its name—it has long since become a metropolis.

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