Ben in Southwest China (1)

Hi, my name is Ben and I am 31. Once upon a time in another life I was a hedge fund manager in the city in London. Then the credit crunch hit like swine flu and swept away my bank, my job and half my investments. After 10 years of working 24/7 like a robot, I am as lost as a hippopotamus in Antartica. Sleep 2 weeks straight eating nothing but Chinese and Indian takeaways, crisps and Coke. Only eating and sleeping stops me thinking, stops me drowning in my own self pity, stops me jumping off the roof.

One night, after two Vindaloos and three Kung Pao chickens, I start vomiting. I look at my reflection in the vomit, see the tears in my eyes, and know I have to leave town. But where the heck was I to go?

Walking back to my bed from the toilet, I feel a pain in my foot. I have trodden on the dart I had used to use to pick my investments. ‘I know, let the dart decide,’ I say to myself, just like I used to in the good old days. Pulling it out of my foot, I hurl it angrily at a big map on the wall I had used to find out where my investments were. “What the hell, where it lands, that’s where I’ll go.” It lands somewhere in the southwest China, some place I have never heard of called Chengdu! “Oh, no, it’s close to Tibet, it must be short of oxygen! NO! I don’t want to go somewhere I can’t breathe.” Closing my eyes, I throw the dart again. Chengdu again!!! God save me!

Two weeks and 50 vindaloos later, I got my Chinese Visa and one way air ticket but I still don’t know anything about Chengdu. My French friend, Jacques, who runs a business in Hong Kong tells me that he went to Chengdu 25 years ago by mistake and there were only two hotels there!! My Hong Kong friend Skip went to Chengdu when China just started to open up in 1979. He says Chengdu was a sleepy country town with no tall buildings.

I type “Chengdu” in Google. Loads of photos of pandas come up. “This is fantastic. I can change my life 100% and live in a bamboo hotel in a bamboo forest and give bamboo breakfasts to cute baby pandas who wander into my bamboo room. Back to nature! Fantastic!”

29 Dec 2008. The plane lands at Chengdu airport. “That’s funny. No shortage of oxygen, and the weather is just like London - damp, cloudy and humid, not cold like Tibet should be. This airport’s just like any airport in any country - only difference is that after you pass border control, you scan your luggage again for customs.”

Customs catches a short man in a dirty crumpled suit ahead of me with two bottles of cheap plonk (only one bottle of alcohol is allowed duty free).

Shorty goes bananas : "It’s not right! Just now, I saw a guy go through with eight bottles of Don Perignon, and I only have two of these.”

“ Which guy?” the customs officer asks eagerly. “You show me and I’ll stop him.”

Shorty looks around, but his victim has long gone. “He really had eight, he really had eight!”

Poor guy, don’t you get it? The richest Russian mafia guys wine and dine in the poshest joints in Knightsbridge and Mayfair while the small-time crooks do porridge in jail. Survival of the fittest, man, the law of the jungle. Wake up and live! I pass the scan quickly – one bottle of 30-year old scotch was all I needed – no prob.

I walk out of the airport and join the queue for taxis. Taxis come and go like an endless green dragon, dropping the customers off, driving 30 meters and picking up new ones. Supply and Demand in perfect equilibrium! Like a clockwork machine. A taxi stops in front of me, Panic! I don’t know where to go! But with only two hotels it must be easy. I show him my English and Chinese handbook : “Hotel, HO TEL” I yell in my best Chinese accent. He mumbles something I don’t understand! Suddenly, a sweet voice whispers in my ear: "The driver is asking which hotel you want to go?" I swivel around. A sweet pretty young lady is standing behind me, the skin of her face like porcelain.

“I was told that Chengdu only has two hotels, I don’t mind which.” I reply to the porcelain girl.

"What? There are hundreds of hotels in Chengdu. Oh, my lord. You got to hurry up! You are blocking the taxi queue." She looks offended. I look back. Oh dear, dozens of taxis are backed up. The green dragon has a big dent in it. One driver is yelling and gesticulating at me. From behind me a cockney accent screams words I can’t repeat.

"Where are you going? Do you mind I go to the hotel near where you are going to? " I don’t mind where I go, but it would be nice to stay near this porcelain girl.

"Ok, anyway, I am going to the city centre, hurry up! " I help her load the luggage into the taxi and jump in, still not sure where we are going.

"I am Ben, nice to meet you," I say to the porcelain girl.

"I am Ollie, nice to meet you too. Are you from London? You have got London accent. I am working in London and I came back over Christmas." Ollie is tall and slim with curly hair and, as I have said, transparent porcelain skin. She dresses in a long black woollen outfit, and a tartan black and red scarf. The rich Scottish red gives her the face of a porcelain baby. Her smile is very sweet and innocent.

"This is my first time in China and I have no idea where to go." I feel like a homeless person.’

"Don’t worry. I know a hotel called Chunxi” (pronounced “Chung Chee”) “My friend lived there before. She said it is nice, good location and good price. If you would like go to posh one, there are plenty too.’

"Oh, I think the Chunxi hotel will be good enough for me. " I just lost my job, I can’t spend money without thinking like I could before.

I look out the window. High building after high building. Chengdu must have totally changed since my Hong Kong friend visited it 30 years ago.

After 30 minutes, we arrive in what must be the city centre. On the instructions of Ollie, I pay 40 RMB - £ 4 in sterling, and the pound has really fallen - for the taxi. The same trip in London would be more like £40.

“Chun Xi Hotel is on Chun Xi Road,” Ollie tells me. “Chun Xi road in Chengdu is like Oxford street in London except it is a walking commerce street. Our taxi can’t park in front of the hotel and we have to walk for 10 minutes.”

Chun Xi road is a bee hive of activity, loads of department stores, shops and restaurants with well-organised rows of squeaky-clean food stands running down the middle of the wide pedestrian boulevard. The Chunxi hotel is in the middle of this area. It is 160 Yuan (£16) for a double room including Internet and breakfast. Ollie is right, it is excellent value for money.

"I can show you this area so that you can have a rough idea," says Ollie.

" I have troubled you so much. Don’t you need to go home to see your family first?" really appreciate her help and would love to have her show me around but I can’t hold her for too long. Her family must be waiting for her.

"My parents are living in a village far away from here and tomorrow I will take a bus to go to my hometown. Only my sister is living in Chengdu, but she has to work until very late."

"Thank you very much. The best thing when you travel is to have a person with local knowledge with you. " I reply.

Chun Xi Road day and night

BBQ meat and vegetables

We walk out of the hotel into the pedestrian precinct, passing shop after shop.

Everywhere the air is inundated with the smell of food, rich and spicy, seductive and inviting. Snack stands everywhere. Many people are eating while walking. Involuntarily, my lips moisten with anticipation.

"In England, I always miss these street snacks. Excuse me, Ben, I can’t help starting eating now!!" She rushes to a barbecued lamb stand and buys two sticks of spiced lamb and passes me one. It is very spicy and tasty, and has a special smell and flavour to it.

"Is this special favour from opium?" I joke.

"The flavouring called Ziran, comes from Xinjiang. The BBQ lamb snack originally came from Xinjiang muslin too."

"Where is Xinjiang? " Of course the whole world knows Xinjiang now because of the Uighur (pronounced “wega”) Muslim riots, but at that time no one knew.

Snacks we eat on Chun Xi Road

Snack Stands

Squid Balls

For the next 3 hours, we never stop eating and walking. The snacks are so cheap. One stick only costs 2 RMB(about 20p). We only spend £ 4 in total but I feel so full. My shirt is covered in food stains. Eating and walking is an art I still need to perfect.

Suddenly I see Chairman Mao walking towards us!!!!!

"Ollie, Is that Chairman Mao?"

"Oh, she is a woman. She dresses up like Chairman Mao for fun. " I would find that Chengdu people have a great sense of humour and China is very open now.

"Are you tired? Do you want to wash your feet? This is a feet washing center. "

"What?" I look up. It a building covered in bright neon lights.

"It is like spa and massage your feet. Look at the lights board. “足 means “feet”. Do you think it is like somebody is walking. "

"Oh, yes. It’s the first Chinese word I can read! Let’s go. " We walk through a door, and a young girl dressed in tight, sexy clothes comes out to greet us. She takes us to a room. There are already 4 or 5 customers there. They are lying down on beds and every customer has a young girl to look after them.

I sit on the bed and a young girl carries a wooden bucket and puts it in front of my feet. There is a disposable plastic layer in bucket. The assistant mixes the hot water in with some Chinese medicine.

The young girl puts my feet in the bucket and starts to wash them. At beginning, I feel embarrassed. My face must be flushing like a beetroot. I look around. Everybody is so relaxed. Some are even sleeping!! As the girl gently caresses my feet in the soft water, I feel my whole body gradually going limp. All the tensions of the day seem to leave my muscles. A peaceful, easy feeling takes over, almost like a narcotic. After 15 minutes wash, the girl tells me to lie down on the bed. She starts to massage my feet. I feel drugged, and feel myself falling effortlessly into the beautiful world of sleep.

"Ben, wake up, finished. " I open my eyes and look at my watch, one hour sleep in heaven!!! The amazing thing is it only cost £20 for the two of us.

"Ben, what are you going to do tomorrow?" Ollie asks.

"Pandas, I want to see the pandas. Chengdu is famous for pandas,” I mutter, still half asleep.

"Ok, tomorrow I can take you to Panda Centre. But tomorrow evening I will have dinner with my sister. The day after tomorrow, I am going to Zigong. "

I am surprised how late the shops stay open. When the department store finally closes at 10:30pm, Ollie takes a taxi back home and I walk back to hotel, stopping for a couple more snacks on the way.

At 11:00 pm, I have to rush to the toilet. I don’t know how much stuff I release, but it must be a lot because when I try to flush the toilet, it blocks up! The water level rises, almost overflowing, and nothing goes down.

I try to break everything into little pieces, but just make a big mess. I flush again, but then everything overflows onto the floor. I curse loudly. What can I do next? No point in calling Reception. No one speaks English. I sit on my bed, the toilet brush still in my hands, my head on my knees, upset, confused and feeling like a fool. “Why did I ever come to China?”

My phone rings. It must be Ollie. Who else knows my room number? I put the brush down and pick up the phone. A girl’s voice says something in Chinese.

“Sorry, I don’t understand Chinese.”

The voice stops and I hear animated voices speaking with excitement. Then someone comes on the phone and says “Sepal Serrbis”

“Special Service?” How do they know my toilet is blocked? I look around for a hidden CCTV camera.

I speak into the phone. “Yes, yes, special service, special service, please come quickly. This is an emergency. I am desperate. Hurry, hurry.”

“I come, I come,” says the woman in a sing-song happy voice that almost seemed like it is laughing.

Wow, this hotel has fantastic room service. How do they know my toilet needs repair? Did I make too much noise – I was shouting and swearing rather loudly. Or maybe the water is leaking through and someone else called ? Or have they got a secret CCTV in my room?

After 3 minutes, I hear a knock at the door. So quick! I rush and open the door to find myself looking into the big hazel eyes of a young girl with bright red lipstick, a mini-mini skirt and high heels. What a sexy plumber! I feel so embarrassed to show her my mess. It would be much nicer to hold her sexy little body and kiss her. But I don’t want to get into trouble.

I invite the plumber to come in, lead her to the toilet and point the mess in the loo.

“Ooooooh!!!!!!” A look of total shock comes over her pretty face. Her eyes almost pop out of her head, her face turns grey as the blood leaves it in one big rush and her pretty red lips curl into a gross distortion. She screams and starts to run away. Instinctively I grab her arm, but with surprising strength she wrenches it away and disappears out of the door, screaming and with arms waving. The door to the next room opens and a shocked elderly couple put their heads out and shake them at me with a look of disgust and disapproval. I can only imagine what they are saying about me.

I am so annoyed at myself! I must do something. Panic is running through my veins. I run down to the reception and ask to see the manager. I am met with blank stares. I repeat my request, louder this time. More blank stares. I say it louder still. Then an older woman in a blue business suit comes out of a room in the back. “May I help you, sir? I am the night manager,” she says in perfect English with a touch of a Scottish accent. I take a deep breath of relief.

“I have a complaint of your lady plumber. After she saw the mess, she just screamed and ran away! What kind of plumber is that?”

The woman gives me a wry look. “Plumber? There is no female plumber. Why don’t you tell me what happened?” I shout out the whole story.

“Please don’t worry, sir. We will send a male plumber up, and he will fix everything for you.” She says it very seriously, but I can’t help feeling that she is laughing at me.

Back in my room, a plumber arrives about midnight, a man this time with no qualms. He quickly sorts everything out. I offer him a tip, but he refuses. Finally I relax and I fall asleep dreaming of sexy plumbers and spies, but mostly of pandas.

The next day I tell the story to Ollie. She too seems to be trying to stop herself from laughing. Then she explains it to me: “Special service is a kind of nicer way to say sex service in Chinese hotels. The lady plumber is a prostitute from some where and she must think I was mad and wanted to torture her .”

“How could I know? In English hotels, service means room service, for food, drinks or things that need fixing.” Finally we both burst out laughing.