Undying love for The Mix hostel. Anyone who charges ¥25 for a bed, maintains western toilets, and can maintain a friendly demeanor in the face of 30 loud American collegiates deserves sainthood. A few blocks from the city center, they have carved out a little piece of backpacker heaven resplendent with Tibetan tapestries and secluded by bamboo walls. I have no great stories from there, just a lot of gratitude.
Chengdu is … relaxing. Pleasantly flat and peppered with tea houses, it is a good place to kick back. While there I went to the Tibetan quarter, an oldtown Chinese tourist town, the panda reserve, a bamboo garden, an art market under a bridge, and had possibly the best burger in the world. The Tibetan quarter was blah, tourist town was a good use of an hour, the pandas were cute, the bamboo garden was peaceful, the art market productive, and the burger was … a religious experience. There. Now you know what I did in Chengdu. Mostly, I just hung out and had a good time.
I do, however, harbor great animosity towards the city’s taxis, or rather the dearth thereof. I spent a particularly unpleasant forty minutes alone on various street corners with my luggage, vainly looking for a taxi. Eventually I found what appeared to be a favorite taxi-driver bathroom and waited alongside a car as its driver was inside. When he came back I informed him that I would be riding in his taxi.
I’m really trying here, but am drawing a blank on any stories worth repeating. So, Chendgu: Great city, amazing hostels, far too few hostels. Done.
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