Chengdu: Fire it Up
he people of Chengdu have long been labelled lazy. To this accusation they lean back in their bamboo chairs, take a take a leisurely sip of tea and smile. As their entrepreneurial countrymen along the Eastern coast toil ambitiously, the Sichuanese enjoy a much slower pace of life. After all, this is tianfu zhiguo or the Heavenly Kingdom. Surrounded by rugged mountains, Sichuan's isolation and 2,000 year history has seen the province evolve its own distinctive culture. Chengdu first rose to prominence when the Emperor of the Shu Kingdom moved his capital to the area. When local governor, Li Bing, designed an ingenious irrigation system at nearby Dujiangyan, Chengdu instantly became prosperous, and her future assured. The city soon developed into an important trading centre and even today competes with nearby Chongqing as major economic powerhouses of the south-west.
Like many Chinese cities, Chengdu has changed significantly over the last decade. The older quarters are battling to survive in the face of rapid modernisation, with new high-rises and shopping malls mushrooming around town. Thankfully there are still pockets of delightful backstreet magic. The temples of Wuhou Ci, Wenshu Yuan and Qingyang Gong, and the recreated traditional Chinese street Qintai Lu, remind you of Chengdu's ancient past. And while road developments try desperately to control the ever-increasing traffic, you can still enjoy the leafy charm among the tree-lined boulevards or stroll along lanes like Kuan Xiang Zi to see the old brick and timber dwellings.
But, what really sets Chengdu apart from other cities is its laidback feel and unique culture. A local saying goes 'teahouses in Sichuan are more than all the teahouses under heaven, teahouses in Chengdu are more than all the teahouses in Sichuan.' Nowhere in China are these sipping institutions such a defining part of a city's character. Teahouses are literally everywhere, ranging from character-oozing backstreet affairs charging RMB 2 for a constant pour, to lavishly upmarket indoor venues where you'll pay top dollar for the country's finest leaves.
In central Chengdu, the vast Tianfu Square is lorded over by a huge statue of Chairman Mao waving at passers-by. Just a few hundred metres west, the Peoples Park Teahouse is one of the finest traditional teahouses in the city. Situated beside a delightful, tree-lined lake, on any afternoon scores of patrons can be seen sprawled across bamboo chairs working hard enjoying themselves. Roving amongst the crowd 'tea doctors' make sure everyone's traditional Sichuan gai wan cha cup is full, while ear-cleaners, shoe-shiners and fortune tellers vie for business.
Like the cafes of Europe, Chengdu's teahouses have long been the gathering place for the city's intellectuals and artists. Zhong Chen is an emerging local filmmaker with aspirations of becoming the next Zhang Yimou. "Much of my inspiration comes from time spent in teahouses," says the 35 year-old Zhong. "I like to hear the sounds, and get inspired by talking to people and the life going on around me." He assures that while modern bars, discos, and cafes have become popular leisure options for Chengdu's cashed-up kids, they pose no threat to the city's traditional teahouse culture.
Zhong also insists that while there's a popular perception that people in Chengdu spend their time simply relaxing in teahouses, many are actually working between sips. "People in Chengdu are so clever," he grins. In true Sichuan style many a business meeting has been held, and contract signed in a Chengdu teahouse.
But in even truer Sichuan style, most people visit teahouses purely for play. At any teahouse at any time, the murmur of chatting patron's competes with the slamming of playing cards on tables, and the unmistakable shuffling of mah-jongg blocks. Sichuanese are especially famous for their penchant for this game, often dubbed 'Repairing the Great Wall'.
Even the local style of Chinese opera, Chuanju, is often staged in the relaxed surrounds of a Chengdu teahouse. Famous for its slapstick humour and bian lian (the lightening-fast ability of some performers to change face masks), admission tickets generally include unlimited refills. There's nothing quite like the performers painted faces and colourful costumes as they belt out hitch-pitched arias amidst the rattling of cups and slurping of tea.
As well as the sipping spot of choice, locals like to think of their city as a culinary heaven. And there is no denying that their cuisine makes the nation's mouths – and eyes – water. Sichuan food is characterised by its mouth-numbing spiciness. Though often associated with chillies, it's the combined use of spicy chilli with a local, mouth-numbing peppercorn, huajiao, which gives the food its famous zing.
Another local adage, '100 Sichuan dishes will contain 100 different flavours', refers to the incredible variety of Sichuan dishes. Almost as numerous as its teahouses, Chengdu's countless restaurants – from cheap and basic to totally extravagant – do a roaring trade, serving up delicious local dishes like mapoudoufu, twice-cooked pork and kongpao chicken. Scores of street vendors also produce an inexpensive range of flavourful snacks – most with a fiery kick. The local version of BBQ meat and vegetable skewers (shaokao) is a favourite late night snack.
While originally from Chongqing, Sichuan hotpot (huoguo) is equally as popular in Chengdu, with the number of steamy hotpot spots here sure to rival that of the Mountain City. In a big pot of bubbling broth containing both the 'ma' and 'la' flavours, patrons cook a range of meats and vegetables at their own table. Contrary to popular belief, not all Sichuanese like spicy food and, with eating hotpot being a truly social occasion, many restaurants provide non- or half-spicy versions (yuan yang).
With such a delicious cuisine and relaxed way of life, it's little wonder that throughout history young Chinese have been warned about visiting Chengdu for fear they'll settle for its lazy lifestyle and ruin successful career plans. But, perhaps those detractors in the east are really just a tad jealous. Why, who wouldn't want to live in heaven?
