Travelling - Chengdu

Speaking of all things being relative, arriving in Chengdu (Sichuan's capital) was like a entering a tropical paradise. Again it was actually only about four or five degrees, but when you've come from the minus ten of Beijing's arctic tundra, it's a real blessing. Your shoulders drop from the hunched position they've been in for the last three months, the less-than-sexy thermal underwear can be left in the rucksack and you no longer have to utter gasped expletives upon leaving any heated building - "£%@# ME IT'S *%$£ING FREEZING!" is a favourite, usually heard as the automatic doors to my apartment block open.

I felt right at home in Chengdu almost immediately. Five degrees above, wet streets, and a miserable, insistent, spitting rain that seems to be saying "Well, I don't really feel like thoroughly soaking you, but I'll just piss you off a bit without really trying". The kind of rain that seeps through your shoes. The kind of rain you get in England.

I decided that I could tolerate a couple of days of English winter so I checked out the city. There were a couple of really impressive temples around (Wenshu Gong, Qingyang Gong) as well as a huge range of Sichuan delicacies on every corner to keep my stomach happy. However, the highlight had to be spending a very chilled afternoon in the teahouse at Renmin Gongyuan (The People's Park) among the old folk playing mah jong and cards. At the time I was reading Wild Swans, the story of three generations of women and their life in 19th/20th century China, much of which is based in Chengdu. Sat there, surrounded by the respected older generation of Chinese engaged in the same activities that had gone on there for centuries, it was hard to imagine the era of the Cultural Revolution('66-'76), when gangs of thirteen to eighteen year olds (Mao's "Red Guards") would be ordered to break up any potentially counter-revolutionary public gathering. Teahouses were banned, chairs and tables smashed and even elderly participants beaten up. I reflected on the insane notion of 10 years of history that tried to undo the previous 4,000.

Gladly, the enduring spirit of the Chinese people endures still, and I was happy at being able to enjoy my bottomless cup of molihua cha amongst the old-timers. Looking at the faces around me and seeing the vital tradition of human interaction and discussion that teahouses provide, I felt that trying to put and end to all this could only ever prove fruitless.