Chengde not Chengdu — scribbler at large

As I keep mentioning, we spent some time in Chengde (chung-duh) over China’s National Day two weeks ago. Most of the country had what they would call seven days off—Saturday through Friday. In China, national holiday scheduling (like so many other things) is different. After having Saturday through Friday off, most locals had to work Saturday through Friday—seven days in a row. Essentially, they get rid of post-holiday weekends and compensate for lost time. Something tells me this deal wouldn't fly in the U.S.

If you’ve ever googled Chengde, you’ve probably turned up results for Chengdu, which is a larger city in the southwest of China. But Chengde has its charms, too. It's a city that doesn’t have many western visitors, so we were true strangers in a stranger-land-than-usual, and our Mandarin (my husband’s, let’s be honest, mine is laughable) was super necessary. We were there for three days, so I’m going to highlight-reel it and try not to be long-winded.

Mountain Resort (Bishu Shanzhuang)

The main tourist attraction in the city is the Mountain Resort, which was built in the 1700s during the Qing dynasty, over a span of almost 90 years. It’s a vast complex of imperial buildings and parkland that was used as a summer base of operations for the Emperor. It's the biggest existing imperial garden and temple complex in China (which is saying something), covering more than 1500 acres.

Qiwanglou, the hotel we stayed at (above) was formerly part of the Mountain Resort itself, but has been repurposed into a beautiful historic establishment with impeccably manicured grounds. — Qiwanglou, the hotel we stayed at (above) was formerly part of the Mountain Resort itself, but has been repurposed into a beautiful historic establishment with impeccably manicured grounds.

Emperors Kangxi and Qianlong used this palace complex as a base for strengthening their administrations along the northern border of the country, and to receive visiting dignitaries. It’s famous for it’s more than 70 “scenic spots,” which were created by the two emperors I just mentioned. Some of these spots are miniature depictions of famous landscapes and gardens within China—for example, the resort includes manmade hunting grounds created in imitation of the grasslands of Inner Mongolia. The Emperor even had yurts built to complete the scene. On top of all that, the resort is surrounded by 12 temples, some built by China’s ethnic minority groups.

The big let down is that we didn’t take many photos while we were in the park. It was raining and jam-packed—we were swept through the gate by a sea of people and then spent 20 painful minutes dodging toddlers and umbrellas and cameras pointed at us (our appearance was more of a novelty in Chengde than in Beijing). We found a quiet, green-flanked road branching off to the left and followed it—feeling like geniuses for escaping the masses. That is, until we realized it was a tour bus route that circled the perimeter of the park. Every two or three minutes, buses came screaming down the road (by screaming I mean driving at a speed no law-abiding American would attempt considering the width and curvature of the road). Our walk morphed into an anxious loop of listening for the sound of impending doom and diving off the shoulder to avoid impact. Inevitably, as a bus zoomed by, we'd hear at least one passenger yell “hello!” out the window. If we responded with “hi!” or “hello!” the bus would erupt with laughter.

We had a few funny conversations with people we passed on the road—two older ladies telling us to stay away from the trees in case of a lightning strike, and a younger couple recommending we stay on the paved road when we turned down a dirt pathway into the woods. When we told them we were going to explore anyway, they followed us, smiling.

We walked the full perimeter of the park—about 10 miles—stopping to look at pagodas or to climb the perimeter wall to get a view of the surrounding city and temples.

The Putuo Zongcheng Temple, which we saw looking out of the Mountain Resort from the perimeter wall.

Throughout most of the walk, we heard and sometimes saw fireworks going off in the distance—a daytime celebration of National Day. The scenery was worth the life-risk, but by the time we made it back through the crowded (albeit beautiful) grounds to the gate, we were exhausted, nerve-damaged waif-people.

Rice snack (left), fried quail eggs (right).

We bought snacks from vendors outside the gate for an energy boost—one was fried quail eggs on a skewer, painted in a mystery brown sauce, and the other was a sticky rice rectangle molded around a stick, then dotted with some kind of raisin-like red fruit and rolled in sugar.

Bing tanghulu (hawthorn berries dipped in melted sugar)

The eggs were really tasty, but the rice snack was an odd texture combo of gooey-starch and granulated sugar. Our last snack was what’s called bing tanghulu (bing tong-hoo-loo), which is hawthorn fruit on a skewer dipped in sugar syrup. When the sugar hardens it looks glassy, hence bing, which means ice. It’s not the easiest eating experience, but the combo of tart and sweet was much better than expected. We bought ours from a basket on the back of a guy's bike. A little green bug was stuck in the sugar on mine (along with who knows what other un-seeables) so I ate around him.

That night we picked a random restaurant for dinner and the staff flocked around us while we looked at the menu. We made the mistake of asking what the chef’s specialty dish was, which turned out to be a watery, earthy chicken stew peppered with bone splinters and very tough meat. It also (here's the real problem) didn’t have a marked price. Our other dishes were a rollercoaster of good and bad, but we ate until we were full—me feeling bad about not finishing everything. We asked for the bill, which—surprise!—was about 100 yuan ($15) higher than we’d expected. Conveniently, all the servers disappeared at this point and we were stuck with a busboy who smiled at us and said he was sorry there was nothing he could do about the price tag, he was just a lowly staff-person. After some pissed-off back and forth, we paid and left the restaurant feeling hosed (because we had been). Some battles are worth fighting and some aren't.

Beautiful chicken stew that didn't taste beautiful.

Delicious noodles, served cold with cucumbers and a spicy brown sauce.

Sledgehammer Peak (Qìng chuí fēng)

The next day, after an epic Chinese breakfast at the hotel, we walked about 5 kilometers to what’s known as “Sledgehammer Peak” or “God’s Thumb,”—a giant, naturally occurring, rock aberration at the top of a mountain.

In a minor communication misfire, we bought what we thought were tickets for a cable car ride up the mountain, but actually weren't. We stood in the cable car line for 45 minutes before the ticket checker told us we'd bought tickets to climb the mountain, not ride the cable car. We were temporarily crushed, but after a bathroom break we decided to pa shan (climb the mountain). As we headed up the trail, a cab driver asked us if we needed a ride, in Mandarin. A woman standing nearby said, “don’t talk to them in Chinese, they can’t understand anything.” As we walked by, my husband said “I heard and understood everything,” in Mandarin, which the two of them thought was hilarious. We heard them laughing behind us for a solid 3 minutes.

Our first stop on the trail up the mountain was Pule Temple, built in 1766 in the style of a Tibetan mandala. Some great details on the building and spiritual significance can be found here, if you want to dig in. It was a gorgeous, peaceful spot that we wouldn't have seen if we'd taken the cable car. Balance: restored.

Looking up at the third tier of Pule Temple.

From the temple, we started the real climb to Sledgehammer Peak. Like the trail at the Great Wall, this one was highly developed--basically paved, with built-in stairs. That said, it was still a pretty steep climb and took us more than an hour. We were both wearing hiking shoes and ventilated clothing, but we were loners in that department—other climbers sported adorable dresses, high-heeled sneakers, pleather pants, sparkly shirts, and sports jackets.

Most people we passed commented on the way we looked, sometimes just exclaiming: "waiguoren" (foreigners) or the less complimentary "laowai" (literally means something like "old outsider"). Lots of people said “Hello!” when they saw us.

After a stop at “Frog Rock”—another interesting rock formation on the way up—we arrived at Sledgehammer Peak. We followed the constant stream of tourists up a scary-skinny set of stairs to reach the naturally formed viewing platform, which had a significant drop on either side (you can see it in the photo below). “God’s Thumb” towered over it, stretching about 100 feet into the sky.

Sledgehammer Peak and Frog Rock (off the right).

The platform was crowded with people taking photos, and a “fence” around the edge formed the only barrier between us and certain death. I say “fence” because it reached the middle of my shin when I stood next to it in a daring attempt to measure just how useless it was. No one fell over the edge while we were there (although I'm sure many people have) and we climbed down intact.

Frog rock as seen from Sledgehammer Peak.

The drop down the side of the viewing platform area.

Looking up from the base of Sledgehammer Peak.

We successfully bought tickets for a cable car ride back down the mountain, which was a relief after climbing in the sun. The cable car was essentially a ski lift that showed off some good-looking views of the city and of Pule Temple. On the ride down, we passed other people riding up, many of whom took advantage of the slow-moving lift to get a good look at us, take a photo, or say “hello!” and wave.

We walked back to the hotel, clocking another 10 miles for the day. On the way, we ran into a vendor selling sweet-potato chips. She gave us a taste and we bought a bag. Salty and sweet and crispy, they were the best snack we had in Chengde. Wish I'd taken a photo.

That night, we picked another random restaurant, committed to checking prices before ordering. The gaggle of servers and the stares from other customers was similar to our experience the night before, but my husband's Mandarin skills won over the staff, and the vibe was much friendlier. We ordered four dishes—more than we could eat—and two 22 ounce beers for a total of $16 USD. Can't beat that.

Our meal looking much yellower than in real life. Left: sautéed spinach with peanuts. Top: fried rolls filled with red bean paste. Right: dry-fried green beans. Bottom: what we Americans would call Kung Pao Chicken, which is chicken with peanuts, sc… — Our meal looking much yellower than in real life. Left: sautéed spinach with peanuts. Top: fried rolls filled with red bean paste. Right: dry-fried green beans. Bottom: what we Americans would call Kung Pao Chicken, which is chicken with peanuts, scallions, and hot pepper.

The last experience I’ll note here, was a show we went to called “Kangxi.” It was a dramatic, nighttime rendering of the life of Emperor Kangxi, performed in a natural amphitheater a few miles from our hotel. We hired a cab driver to get us there who promised to pick us up after the show for twice the price of getting us there. We were cool with that, considering we'd be paying $8 instead of $4 and we didn’t know where we were or what the transportation options would be after the show.

We silenced our phones and put away cameras once we were in our seats—in cooperation with repeated audio announcements—but as soon as the show started the rest of the crowd whipped out their phones to take photos and video. There was also a lot of high volume shifting, chatting, and walking around, despite pre-show guidance to be quiet. The show itself was pretty stunning—particularly the light design, which made use of the surrounding hills and had the crowd oohing. It was elaborate—real horses were involved, plus ornate costumes, moving sets, and even English translation. It was just over an hour and worth the cost of admission (about $40 each). We clapped at the end, but the rest of the crowd bypassed applause, simply getting up and leaving. We found our cabby after the show and made it back to the hotel safely.

Overall, it was a really interesting cultural experience, and super entertaining on many levels.

There you have it—the highlights of our trip to Chengde. Like all good excursions, it featured good things to eat, awesome scenery, and minor failures. More importantly, it was an overdue glimpse of the China outside our western-washed Beijing neighborhood.

One more thing: