Us on the Slow Side of Chengdu

None of us expected one of our favorite memories in Chengdu to happen after midnight.

After a long day of walking, the four of us were already in pajamas at the hotel when someone suddenly said, "I'm hungry."

Nobody wanted to go outside again, and none of us could figure out the local delivery apps. We sent a message to Willow Zhan, mostly as a joke, asking if she knew what we could order nearby.

To our surprise, she replied and helped us find a small local restaurant that delivered late at night. A while later, a box of Zhong dumplings, Long Chao Shou, Dan Hong Gao, and Bingfen arrived at our hotel room.

We sat on the floor sharing Chengdu snacks at midnight, arguing over who got the last dumpling. It wasn't part of the itinerary, but somehow it became one of the most memorable moments of the trip.

That pretty much summed up our Chengdu holiday.

The four of us came from Canada, looking for a city that wasn't just about ticking famous sights off a list. Chengdu turned out to be exactly that. Relaxed, green, full of good food, and surprisingly creative.

Our guide, Ms. Lin, fit right into that atmosphere. She never rushed us from place to place, and she somehow always knew when we'd rather stop for a snack than hear another history lesson.

The pandas, of course, were every bit as cute as the internet promised. We arrived early enough to watch them eating bamboo instead of sleeping, and one little panda rolled down a grassy hill for absolutely no reason. Everyone around us laughed at the exact same time.

The day before, we'd wandered around Du Fu Thatched Cottage and Songxianqiao Antique Market. While my friends hunted for snacks, I disappeared into a tiny booth where an elderly man was teaching visitors Chinese calligraphy. Twenty minutes later I proudly showed everyone my masterpiece. They all agreed it looked like it had been written by a five-year-old. The old gentleman disagreed and stamped it with a bright red seal anyway.

One afternoon at Eastern Suburbs Memory, we joined a traditional paper-cutting workshop almost by accident. We had only planned to watch for a few minutes, but somehow all four of us ended up sitting there with little scissors and sheets of bright red paper. Mine actually resembled a panda. Emma claimed hers was a butterfly. Nobody else could see the butterfly.

Another favorite was Longxing Temple, where we enjoyed a simple vegetarian lunch before learning how to make traditional incense. Grinding the herbs, pressing them into wooden molds, and waiting patiently for them to come out in one piece was strangely satisfying. Mine didn't survive the first attempt, but the craftsman simply smiled and handed me another mold.

The only thing none of us had prepared for was Mount Qingcheng. We seriously underestimated how much walking we'd be doing. Every time we thought we'd reached the last staircase, another one appeared. Ms. Lin just laughed and produced a bag of local rice cakes from her backpack like she'd seen this happen a hundred times before.

Not everything went perfectly. One afternoon we spent nearly fifteen minutes looking for my friend's phone before realizing she'd accidentally put it in the side pocket of her own backpack. Later that evening we also got caught in heavier traffic than expected on the way back to the hotel. Nobody really minded. We opened the windows, chatted with Ms. Lin about life in Chengdu, and she started recommending local snacks we'd somehow still managed to miss.

By the time we headed to the airport, our luggage was noticeably heavier than when we arrived. Handmade souvenirs, panda cookies, tea, little paper-cutting pieces we'd folded ourselves... somehow everything found room in the suitcase.

The funny thing is, whenever someone asks about Chengdu now, the first thing none of us mentions is the pandas. We usually start with the midnight takeaway.